I babysat D’s nieces yesterday for about 2-3 hours. After which, I returned home and basically, well, collapsed. I was exhausted. The two toddlers ran around, ate Popsicles, pushed each other around in their tiny wheeled Little Tikes Coupe, drank lots of water and also colored a lot. And never within the lines, I might add. After an hour, I was stealing glances at the wall clock. By the second hour, I was wondering where their parents were. By the time 6.30 pm rolled around, I was probably as excited as they were that both mummy and daddy were back.
Readers, this short, one time experiment, has proven, once again, why I cannot have children. I simply do not have the right temperament. Or energy levels for a task that is as taxing as raising children.
At the same time, it also raises the rather interesting question of why parents should feel safe in leaving their children in the hands of teenage babysitters. I’m a grown adult, trained in pediatric medicine and not only did I find it hard to keep up with the two children, there were times when I lost track of at least one child because one child demanded more of my attention than the other. How, in the world, does a teenager do it without more young children getting hurt in their care?