My wife and I don’t get out much. Most weekends we stay at home. After 12 months of parental confinement, we decided that we needed a babysitter. “All baby and no play makes Jack a dull boy” or something to that effect.
So how do you find a babysitter?
Approaching random teenage girls on the street seemed like the wrong way, as did answering posts on Craigslist. If only there was a club, a loosely knit organization of teen girls who primarily sold teen fiction and occasionally babysat.
I wouldn’t even know what to look for in a babysitter. I mean, aside from the braces, acne and the propensity for texting. And negotiating with teen girls is not my forte, as my awkward high school years can attest to.
Thankfully my wife resolved the situation and found us a neighbourhood teen willing to sit. I surmise my wife’s efficacy in the matter may be a direct result of her formerly being in the club. I suspect the club is like the Freemasons with a far-reaching secret influence primarily in matters related to diaper changing.
As far as the actual babysitting goes, it’s mostly sitting and not that much baby. Our daughter goes to bed at 7pm. The sitter shows up at 6:45, just enough time to make polite conversation with our daughter before bed. The other four hours of our sitter’s stay involves sitting, lots of sitting – directly in front of the television.
She’s a TV sitter.
On our babysitter’s first visit, I spent more time explaining how to work the various remotes then I did explaining how to care for my daughter. Our daughter sleeps through the night, and the main instruction given to our babysitter was on replacing our daughter’s soother if she awoke and became fussy. That and how to call us.
You see, when my wife and I go out on dates we have a chaperone. The ever-present cell phone. It sits on the table and we stare nervously at it during conversational lulls. It never rings. Our daughter is sleeping and our babysitter is too busy performing the teenage triathlon of texting, Facebooking and channel surfing.
Yes, I’m paying a 13-year-old seven dollars an hour to watch television. And occasionally glance at my sleeping daughter’s baby monitor. It seems ludicrous that we actually left care instructions for our daughter. We should have left them for the TV.
Sometimes the TV and DVD player don’t get along. If the DVD player gives you any trouble, unplug it. Then plug it back in.
The TV is not allowed to order on-demand movies.
The TV likes to play the same shows again and again.
We don’t want our TV to just watch reality programming. Please try and make it watch some PBS or a nature show.
Don’t let the TV see you using the internet. This upsets the TV a lot.
If the TV gets too loud just press the mute button.
Please turn the TV off before the infomercials start.
Our babysitter has never had any problems with either the television or our sleeping beauty. Having someone babysit lets my wife and I go out together and be culturally current. We’ve seen a handful of the Oscar-nominated movies. We’ve attended the same parties. We’ve tried trendy new restaurants.
Being able to do all of these things is worth the flat hourly rate of seven dollars (plus fridge privileges) and it’s comforting knowing that someone is watching our television on Saturday nights. Even more comforting is the fact that it’s not me.
Follow @DaddyDistracted on Twitter.