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Hell on Earth?
Nope, I'm just Babysitting

Grace O'Connor
Avondale CC

At this very moment I am wondering what in the name of God has happened? There is silence. Just five minutes ago I was treated to a variety of piercing screams, childish shouts and sibling squabbles. But as I told you, there is suddenly silence. This cannot be good. I am tempted to venture upstairs but, to tell you the truth I think I prefer the silence. If you haven't guessed, I am babysitting. Well I'm trying to, but the thought of what these two could have done to each other has me a little worried. This is the part of the day when I deeply regret having been taken in by their mother's pleading eyes and reassuring smile telling me "they'll be good this time". And I believed her? Was I mad? No, I was skint and would have gone mad had I not made some money soon. So, gritting my teeth, I agreed. I have even learned to sound enthusiastic when replying. In fact I must be fairly convincing. Nobody has discovered yet that I actually don't like children at all.

They must have switched off their mute button, sound is back and I have decided to act oblivious to the war being waged around me. The eldest child has just walked downstairs and ominously announced, "Something smells disgusting". It is in fact going to be this boy's dinner. (Chips and burgers, I'm a babysitter so it's assumed I can't cook any thing else). While we eat there is a brief spell of silence as they eat. I choke down my food, counting the minutes and mentally counting my money. After dinner while working at my laptop I can feel someone's breath on my neck as one of them cranes to look at what I'm typing. He has evidently forgotten that he can't read.

There are strange forces at work here. Two very friendly seemingly nice people cursed the world with their horrific children. These children should get Oscars for their amazing portrayal of angels in front of their parents. Do they keep up this act all day? I am reminded of that old film "Village of the Damned", you know, the one where the children have all the adults brainwashed. Well, I'm not sure if I'm brainwashed but something about these children makes me stand in front of their parents and with every ounce of sincerity I can muster up say that they were perfectly well behaved all day. In my mind I know this is a pure lie but I suppose I couldn't bear to shatter this disillusioned woman's ideas of her model sons. She now owes me eighteen pounds, but I think in a way I owe her thanks. I now know I don't want children.

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