One of my co-workers brought his daughter into work today. She is six years old, super smart, and talks with a slight British accent. Can't even handle it. She spent the whole day at the office, hanging out with our receptionist as they made arts and crafts for all of our co-workers.
I got a pair of "earrings" and a dog on a popsicle stick. Score. I told her she was very generous and she said, "it's nice giving people things because I like hearing people say 'thank you.'" Demands gratitude like a boss. Get it, girl.
Anyway, I didn't think it would be fair for her to leave without a gift from me in return (andI'dbettergetathankyouokaaay?). I went to her dad's facebook, printed off a picture of her, and drew a princess outfit around the face. It looked pretty awesome, and she loved it. So as she was leaving at the end of the night, I noticed that she had left it in our production office and I brought it to her as I was saying goodbye. She was pretty wound up at that point and threw it down and sort of punched it. Total 180. So aggressive. wtf. Then she delivered this line: "I like it but I'm scared for other people to see it." Yeah, I just got served by a six-year-old who not only undercut my artistic abilities but also managed to subtly imply that I'm a little creepy and other children might be made uncomfortable by my arts and crafts. It was like Angelica Pickles meets the Dowager Countess. My reaction was pretty much the same as what I imagine it would be like for Helen Mirren to call me a slut. Recognizing that I had been insulted but trusting that she was right because she said it with a British accent.
This is not the first time that I have been served by someone under the age of seven:
-- There was the time I was babysitting my professor's daughter, and I asked her what she asked for for Christmas, and she said an iPod. She was four and I was a little skeptical of this request. I said, "Oh and what kind of music would you put on your iPod?" It took her 0.00001202 seconds to respond, "Miley and Flo Rida." Certain that I had misheard "the Wiggles" as "Flo Rida," I said, "Oh really? And what does Flo Rida sing?" And she launched into "apple bottom jeans-JEANS, boots with the fur-FUR..." Then I gave her all the money in my wallet and asked her to explain string theory in layman's terms.
-- On another babysitting occasion, I was watching this 6-year-old nerd and was trying to make conversation. I had just seen Madagascar in theaters (yes, I was going into my senior year of high school and yes, seeing Madagascar in theaters is the only part of this blog post that did not involve babysitting, why do you ask?) so I asked him if he had seen it yet. He replied, "Madagascar? What's that?" Oh yeah, and he sounded like Charlie in the Box from the Island of Misfit Toys:
So I said, "Oh it's a movie.. there are animals in it.." (it's clear now that at this point, my parents were clearly paying him to babysit me) And he just casually responds, "Madagascar is where we get vanilla," drops the mic, and goes back to his legos. Fast forward seven years, and I want to find this kid and team up with him for Sporcle world domination.
-- And finally... I babysat these twin 3-year-old boys for a summer named Aidan and Ethan (they called each other "A" and "E." I can hear the awwwws from here). They loved bubbles and were hands down the cutest children I have ever met (with the exception of my baby cousin Chris who is hands down the cutest child anyone will ever meet). So we were playing with trains one day, and one of them had a little too much energy (not that I ever got kids to stop crying by giving them tootsie rolls). He kept de-railing his Thomas the Tank Engine so he could hit me in the ass with it. So I said "Alright now, no more hitting me in the butt with your trains." He looks at me and says with a totally straight face, "But it's so big, I can't miss it." I couldn't even be mad because if given the opportunity, I would have said exactly the same thing. 10 points to Gryffindor.
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| Nicole, our lovely receptionist, with her swag |
Anyway, I didn't think it would be fair for her to leave without a gift from me in return (andI'dbettergetathankyouokaaay?). I went to her dad's facebook, printed off a picture of her, and drew a princess outfit around the face. It looked pretty awesome, and she loved it. So as she was leaving at the end of the night, I noticed that she had left it in our production office and I brought it to her as I was saying goodbye. She was pretty wound up at that point and threw it down and sort of punched it. Total 180. So aggressive. wtf. Then she delivered this line: "I like it but I'm scared for other people to see it." Yeah, I just got served by a six-year-old who not only undercut my artistic abilities but also managed to subtly imply that I'm a little creepy and other children might be made uncomfortable by my arts and crafts. It was like Angelica Pickles meets the Dowager Countess. My reaction was pretty much the same as what I imagine it would be like for Helen Mirren to call me a slut. Recognizing that I had been insulted but trusting that she was right because she said it with a British accent.
This is not the first time that I have been served by someone under the age of seven:
-- There was the time I was babysitting my professor's daughter, and I asked her what she asked for for Christmas, and she said an iPod. She was four and I was a little skeptical of this request. I said, "Oh and what kind of music would you put on your iPod?" It took her 0.00001202 seconds to respond, "Miley and Flo Rida." Certain that I had misheard "the Wiggles" as "Flo Rida," I said, "Oh really? And what does Flo Rida sing?" And she launched into "apple bottom jeans-JEANS, boots with the fur-FUR..." Then I gave her all the money in my wallet and asked her to explain string theory in layman's terms.
-- On another babysitting occasion, I was watching this 6-year-old nerd and was trying to make conversation. I had just seen Madagascar in theaters (yes, I was going into my senior year of high school and yes, seeing Madagascar in theaters is the only part of this blog post that did not involve babysitting, why do you ask?) so I asked him if he had seen it yet. He replied, "Madagascar? What's that?" Oh yeah, and he sounded like Charlie in the Box from the Island of Misfit Toys:
So I said, "Oh it's a movie.. there are animals in it.." (it's clear now that at this point, my parents were clearly paying him to babysit me) And he just casually responds, "Madagascar is where we get vanilla," drops the mic, and goes back to his legos. Fast forward seven years, and I want to find this kid and team up with him for Sporcle world domination.
-- And finally... I babysat these twin 3-year-old boys for a summer named Aidan and Ethan (they called each other "A" and "E." I can hear the awwwws from here). They loved bubbles and were hands down the cutest children I have ever met (with the exception of my baby cousin Chris who is hands down the cutest child anyone will ever meet). So we were playing with trains one day, and one of them had a little too much energy (not that I ever got kids to stop crying by giving them tootsie rolls). He kept de-railing his Thomas the Tank Engine so he could hit me in the ass with it. So I said "Alright now, no more hitting me in the butt with your trains." He looks at me and says with a totally straight face, "But it's so big, I can't miss it." I couldn't even be mad because if given the opportunity, I would have said exactly the same thing. 10 points to Gryffindor.
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