![]() “Great.” I sighed, putting the ants and logs on a plate in the middle of the kitchen table. “Look!” Janie held her ponytail up to me, showing me a wad of gum so big I couldn’t imagine how anyone even got it in their mouth in the first place. Henry, almost ten, was always doing something to annoy his older sister. “Henry did what?” I licked peanut butter off the knife and slid it into the sink. “Henry did it!” Janie, who was eleven, blond and blue-eyed like her mother, stomped into the kitchen where I was making their after school snack-“ants on a log.” They were just celery sticks spread with peanut butter, raisins dotted on top, and looked more like turds on sticks to me, but whatever. And their kids were great, which is something I couldn’t say about the three families I’d played nanny to before them. They were my favorite people in the world. I’d been a nanny for five years and had gone through three families, when I finally found the perfect job. Not that I advertised that fact during interviews. Sometimes I thought a monkey could do my job. Basically, I needed to know how to keep kids alive. ![]() ![]() Being a nanny required that I know how to cook and how to do CPR. I became a nanny because I hated school, anything involving retail, and working in fast food. I wasn’t one of those girls who started babysitting when I was ten and fell in love with children and decided to spend the rest of my life playing Mary Poppins. I didn’t become a nanny because I loved kids. ![]()
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