Let’s hear your tales of woe! I know there are some horror stories out there but
mine’s not too bad. I was sitting for my cousins back when I was 8th grade and they were in 2nd. Unfortunately, one of them had been exposed to chicken pox and the little darling passed them on to me. :mad: I ended up missing 2 weeks of school - during finals.
On the plus side, my grades were good and the teachers were sick of grading finals so I got to slide on most of the makeups. I never did finish my Home Ec project.
However it was a very bad case and I ended up with permanent scars. 
I was sitting for the kids I usually sat for and the kids of their parents’ friends. The little girl and little boy I usually sat for were two and five, and were normally very well-behaved and sweet. The two other little boys were older (seven and eight) and absolute hellions. They broke most of the house rules–not putting away toys before choosing a new one, not asking me to pour milk or juice for them, using bad words, etc. The thing was, they knew that all of these things weren’t allowed in the house, because they’d stayed with that family before many times. But I was the babysitter and so could be tortured. Verbal warnings didn’t do anything, timeouts didn’t do anything, threats to tell their mother didn’t do anything.
The final straw came when the oldest climbed up on the kitchen countertop and then on top of the refrigerator. There he found a nudie calendar and brought it down gleefully tp show the other little boys. I came into the kitchen from changing the little girl’s diaper because it had gotten really quiet. One of the little boys was whispering, “Are those her boobs?”
Yes, Virginia, they were. I took in the scene–kitchen chair pushed up against the counter, fruit bowl tipped over, Tupperware on the floor from on top of the fridge. I pulled the calendar out of the ringleader’s hands and said something like, “Timeout. Now.”
It wasn’t so much the porn that pissed me off as it was that they had been climbing on top of the fridge and knocked all sorts of crap on the floor, after trashing the playroom and most of the rest of the house. It’s funny now, but it was really awkward trying to explain to a five-year-old why those naked women were lying on top of cars or wearing rollerskates and nothing else. Gah!
Oh, man. First, you must understand that I had worked the early shift at the bakery, and then gone to classes all day, before I started the babysitting evening from hell, so I wasn’t at my best.
I had two older boys and a baby girl. The middle boy could climb anything, and promptly decided to show off by sitting on top of the fridge. The older boy decided it would be fun to grab the kitchen knives and run around the house with them, so I scooped up the baby (we wouldn’t want her getting tripped over and accidentally stabbed, now would we?), confiscated the knives, and put them in their room for a time-out. They punched holes in their door–three or four of them. I’m not sure exactly what happened when, but I do remember that it’s pretty hard to put knives up high enough to elude those kids; at last, I gave in and called my dad, holding the baby while the oldest boy sawed away at the telephone cord with the bread knife.
I just could not cope with those hellions. I don’t know how their mother survived–she’s a great mom and was quite strict with them, but I think they sensed my weakness.
They were 1, 3, and 4. They were all in the tub together with their PJs laid out when I got there. After a rip-roaring few minutes in the tub (water everywhere) I got them out in the following order: baby, wrap in towel; 3-year-old, wrap in towel; 4-year-old, wrap in towel. I then sent the older ones to put on their own PJs while I got the baby ready for bed.
They didn’t. By the time I had the baby diapered and dressed they had gone outside, without even wearing their towels, and to make things worse they had climbed up onto the roof of the house via a rose trellis. (Actually the roof of the carport, which was flat, as opposed to the sloping roof of the house. But still!)
And there they were, naked and cavorting for all the neighbors to see and report to their parents. I couldn’t climb up to get them because even though I was pretty skinny at 14 I was no match for a flimsy trellis and besides, I was holding the baby. Who thought it was all pretty funny and kept reaching out for her brother and sister, and laughing.
I had absolutely no idea what to do so I called my mother. She came over. With her camera.
Which actually turned out to be pretty brilliant. The naked miscreants clowned for the camera and then climbed down, got into their PJs and were put to bed. My mother said that whatever a kid is doing that is worthy of a picture, they will stop it as soon as they see pictures being taken, and that truly seemed to be the case.
Oh–the parents actually called me back. (I think they were desperate.) And I actually went back. (I was desperate too.)
Wow, a bunch of climbers.
When I was fourteen, I think, I had to babysit two little boys. The younger was manageable and rather sweet, the older one, aged about ten, was a little hellraiser. He scratched and bit enough to draw blood when I told him to go to bed, and then he climbed on the roof of the parsonage and threatened to jump off and kill himself if I didn’t let him stay up. Flair for theatricals that one. It’s a bit blurry but I seem to recall telling him to go ahead, and walking away. On the grounds that: he bit me, and he was really playing it up for the audience. He came down from the roof of his own accord and I refused to babysit the boys ever again.
Can a tell a second-hand story? This is my college roommate’s babysitting horror story:
She had 3 or 4 kids, and took them to the playground. However, the father had neglected to tell her that one of the kids was constipated and had been filled up with the usual sorts of softening treatments. On the way home (walking), the kid exploded in poop. She got him home somehow, and plopped him in the tub, where he proceeded to poop some more. His brother was so grossed out by the poopy water that he threw up. I don’t remember any more, but I don’t think things improved much from there…
I sat for a family of three boys, ages 10, 7, and 3, for an entire summer.
The littlest one was an angel. He was smart and talkative and inquisitive, and just a great little kid. So, of course, his big brothers felt the need to torment him constantly. They would sit on him and tickle him till he peed - and if he didn’t pee, one of them would sometimes pee on him instead. Because, you know, that’s funny. :rolleyes: They’d always time this for when I was busy making them lunch, so I’d always get there just a few seconds too late to make a difference.
But the worst thing they ever did was to hide the hamster. He belonged to the little one, of course, and the big brothers decided to let him out of his cage and stick him somewhere. I only learned of this at bedtime, when I was tucking the 3-year-old in and he noticed his hamster was missing. Two solid hours of hamster-hunting ensued. I searched, followed around the house by an inconsolable little boy worried that his hamster was scared, and also followed by a dog who looked like if he got to the hamster first I’d find myself elbow-deep in dog esophagus trying to retrieve it.
That family has since moved to Toronto, and my city breathes a little easier. Hope the little guy learned to defend himself.
Antigen - what happened to the hamster?
Sage advice. I may put that on a t-shirt!
When I was 7 and my brother was 5, we had some teen girl babysit for us for the first (and only time.) This girl was in so far over her head. When she wanted us to go to bed, we refused, and ran through the house turning all the lights off. In the kitchen/living room there were two sets of switches that both controlled all the lights. We would each stand by one of the switches, ensuring that the sitter could not get the lights on for longer than a second. When our running around the dark screaming prompted her to lock herself in the bathroom, I got a big butcher knife out of the drawer and slid it under the door as she shrieked. She then flew out the back door crying and ran all the way home. When her mother returned to try and get us under control, I told her defiantly “I don’t have to do a thing you say.”
She called my parents, who had to leave a company Christmas party to come home, and boy did we ever get a whooping. Had to write apology cards to the sitter and deliver them ourselves. And people ask me why I don’t want kids…
Found him in a sock, under the sofa. Took the sock and dumped him out of it back into his cage, because I figured he’d feel pretty bitey after his ordeal. Families of boys are hell on babysitters.
And now, having said that, I’m guaranteeing that I will have only boys when I finally start a family of my own.
When I was in my teens, I did a lot of babysitting. The worst job by far was when I sat with a kindergarten-age boy who was a bona fide genius. This child was remarkable. I’ve never met a kid with such a large vocabulary. His artistic skills were impressive, he was a math whiz, and he played the piano, the violin, and the flute.
He was also truly, genuinely crazy. A couple hours after the parents left, we had a disagreement over the issue of bedtime (I’d been told that bedtime was 9:00, and the kid said otherwise). As I turned to leave the room, the kid came at me with a butcher knife, and I really think he was trying to kill me. I locked myself in the bathroom and wedged a metal chair against the door.
Three hours later, the parents returned home. They let me out of the bathroom. The kid was back in his room, asleep. I told the parents what had happened, and showed them the wound on my arm from the knife. Their response chilled me to the bone. The kid’s mom shrugged, and the kid’s dad said “Oh, no, not again.” WTF? They knew that their child had a habit of attacking babysitters with a butcher knife, and they didn’t even warn me?
I got a five dollar bonus from the kid’s parents. Never babysat that scary little kid again. Sometimes I wonder what became of him. I keep thinking that someday I will see his photo on a Bill Kurtis crime show called “Psychotic Little Monsters” or “Tiny Serial Killers” or something like that.
Damn! What’s with these kids? How many stabbings is that now? :eek:
I’ll add to the carnage. I babysat a 150 pound 10 year old and his six year old little brother. There were lots of family issues due to the death of the oldest’s father, the oldest’s medical conditions, and a messy divorce from the youngest’s father. The oldest one picked on the younger one a lot, and one time took a butcher knife after him. The younger one grabbed another sharp kitchen knife to defend himself. One of them called their mom at her job at the bank to complain that I was trying to take the knives away from them. She was hesitant to do what needed to be done, just yell into the phone “put the knives down right now or else” because she was with a customer…
It was Superbowl Sunday. I was to babysit for the entire day well into the night. It was a little boy and girl I had babysat before, and at least two other boys who were friends. The parents had considerately hooked the kids up with as much coca-cola and candy as they could eat. After getting completely hopped up, the kids started to go CRAZY. They threw toys around the house, causing me to chase them around trying not to let them destroy the house. They smashed a vase full of flowers. They then ran outside and when I chased them they locked me out of the house. I eventually got in but it was after a long time. Then they asked me for a snack, so I went into the pantry to get some crackers or something for them, and they locked me in the pantry. Occasionally they would open the door and poke me with broom handles and fire squirt guns at me. That was fun. Eventually they wound down and I think they must have been getting hungry so they let me out. When their parents came home I told them everything and I mean everything. I got paid a couple hundred dollars and got a telephoned apology from the boy the next day.
Yep, I went back.
Crikey. I babysat a little when I was younger, and the worst that happened to me was the odd temper tantrum about nothing discernible.
I don’t really have any hellacious stories from babysitting, but I did torment my babysitter one time. I was usually a good kid (only previous issue was being “in trouble” for not staying in bed when I had a problem with sleepwalking - which my parents duly explained), so this only happened once. A good friend’s brother was babysitting, so I figured he was Fair Game.
Using the art of deception, we convinced him to play with us. I explained I had to tie him up first with a jump rope. Goodness knows how he fell for that trick, but once he was tied up, he stayed tied up. I went off to play Nintendo and not go to bed at bedtime. My sisters put makeup on him and put this pointy pink princess hat with a long veil on him.
We got in trouble, but nothing memorable. We still giggle about our brilliance to this day.
My cousin, whom I’ll call D. I was babysitting for him and his brother and sister earlier this year. D is the youngest, and a fun little kid, but he’s got a huge mischievious streak in him. I don’t remember what was going on, but all of a sudden, I couldn’t find him. (He’s about five at the time.) His brother, G, and his sister, J, are helping me look, and G suggests I look for him outside.
So I’m outside, yelling at the top of my lungs, calling his full name, when his sister yells for me.
He’s standing in a tree, in the front yard, grinning at me. The little imp! Scared me half to death-I had visions of him lying in the woods somewhere. (Hey, with this kid, you never know.)
Later on, my cousin’s wife had him call me to appologize. I didn’t tell her-my aunt came to pick me up and take the kids out somewhere, and later, G told his mother what happened.
Of course, now it’s a funny story that I cannot wait to tease him about when he’s a teenager and starts bringing girlfriends to the family picnics!