Why Our Kids Love Having a Babysitter

We don’t get babysitters very often.  This disappoints our five-year-old twins immensely. They’ve always loved babysitters.

I have a few theories on why they love having other people look after them.

Theory One has to do with the fact they’re twins. There’s comfort in numbers, especially when your partner-in-crime has been with you since the womb. It also can’t hurt when you outnumber your babysitter 2:1. Odds like this increase the chance that the inmates will run the asylum, especially when the two head guards are AWOL.

Theory Two of why our kids love babysitters is the fact that William and Vivian spent the first year of their existence living in Thailand. Thai people love babies and adore twins. Multiple births, especially a boy/girl combination, are considered lucky. So much so, that a driver asked my husband to select a lottery ticket for him.

The Holding-Babies Brigade

Since we were carless in Bangkok, we spent a lot of time pushing our limo-stroller through the congested streets. We wouldn’t get very far before food vendors, tuk tuk drivers, and waitresses would pick up and cuddle our twins. Even the Coca-Cola delivery man oohed and aahed over them.

Theory Three as to why our kids love babysitters is we’re lousy parents. We don’t read parenting books bettering ourselves, or write and perform family plays. We’re just kind of there. We took Vivian and William sledding on New Year’s Day, and that was pretty much the Event of Their Life. I figure if you set the bar low, it’s easy to maintain the standard. Needless to say, when they have a babysitter, the endless games of hide-and-seek and make-believe fuel their love for their babysitter and provide a foil for our lackluster parenting style.

To illustrate the extent to which William and Vivian love having a babysitter, here are two snippets of conversations that occurred this past weekend.

Saturday morning

Vivian: “Mom, we haven’t seen our babysitter in a while.”

Me: “That’s because we’ve been away on vacation.”

Vivian: “Can you guys go out?”

Me: “Uhh, okay.”

Saturday evening

William: “How long till she comes?”

Me:  “Fifteen minutes.”

William: “Fifteen minutes?” [Insert dramatic pause as he gazes outside through our picture window]. “But Mom, it’s really dark outside.”

Big alligator tears stream down his cheek. I kneel down, eye level with my now-sobbing son. Vivian comes and rubs his back. William doesn’t weep often, and we’re frantically trying to determine the cause.

Me: “What’s wrong, William?”

William, between sobs: “It’s, it’s, it’s…dark out.”

I wipe his tears away.

Me: “Mommy and Daddy won’t be gone long. We’ll be home soon. Just after you fall asleep.”

William: “Fifteen minutes is a long time. What if she doesn’t come?”

Epiphany.

Me: “Are you worried your babysitter won’t come?”

William: “Yes.”

Me: “Then you’re not upset because you want Mommy and Daddy to stay home with you?”

William: “No.” He looks up and wipes his snotty nose on his sleeve. “I just want her to come right now.”

All that crying over the fear he’s going to be stuck with his mommy and daddy again.

Minutes later, the doorbell rings, easing his fears. Before I can put on my coat, the kids have removed their socks for optimal grip and have begun a raucous game of tag…with their babysitter happily chasing them around the house.

Photo collage adapted from Meemal, Farangrakthai, superhua, cplapied, (cc) Creative Commons, used under a ShareAlike License.