One of the many questions I get asked when I reveal my profession is "So, which do you prefer, babies or older kids?"
I could be lying. It's entirely possible that no one has asked me that question, and I just need a way to start this blog. But it feels like this has been asked of me before.
In my first few years as a nanny I would have said older kids all the way. This is because my experience with babies was limited to a few terrifying moments when an aunt would see me appropriately enchanted by their newborn and breathlessly ask, "Do you wanna hold him/her?" And I would nod numbly like a person agreeing to buy Girl Scout cookies: You really don't want to, but you'd feel like a complete ass if you say no. Honestly, no I do not want to hold your baby. Unlike a box of Girl Scout cookies, it's really hard to buy another if I drop it. And I would be firmly convinced that somehow, in the time it takes to transfer your miraculous bundle of love into my arms, the Crisco fairy would hop along and just coat my limbs with the stuff and BAM! Shame and dishonor on my whole family, soul, and life. Have I actually ever dropped a baby? Well, no, but fear is more tangible than reality. As time passed I became more comfortable with infants. I started to really like working with them. Yes, you have to change diapers and you must be prepared to wear their lunch. If they are teething then God have mercy on your soul, but nothing will make you feel more accomplished faster than successfully changing that diaper, getting at least one spoonful of winter squash in their mouth, and running like hell out the door when your shift is over (because I'm sorry, nothing compares to the horror that is teething). Toddlers are more independent and often potty trained, but there is something about the wonder of watching a baby recognize your face.
Be it a toddler or a baby, we can all agree on one thing. They are driven on finding new and innovative ways to kill themselves. Hmm, what's this, a teeny tiny lego? I'm pretty sure I can choke on it, let's find out, he seems to say. Well, I'll be. An electrical socket. That's the perfect size for my fingers, she appears to ponder. I'm glad they feel safe and secure in their environment that they want to explore, but could they not explore what a plastic bag over their head? I feel like I should set up a crisis hotline with some of their toy cell phones. "Mr. Jonah, please don't hang up. Stay with me, I need to know why your life is not worth living after you spotted Mr. Potato Head in pieces".
Perhaps one day we can figure out what goes on in their minds, but until then, I'm just going to eat a box of Girl Scout cookies to relieve my anxiety.
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