The Babysitting Years

Before I entered the official world of the working class I did the ubiquitous babysitting thing.

I worked mostly in a small neighborhood that was kind of a planned community.

The houses all looked the same, same porches, same front doors, same cedar shingles, same swing set in every backyard facing the same way.

And not a tree in sight.

Think Stepford wives.

But I digress.

One of my regular customers recommended me to her neighbor.

The neighbor called and wanted to ‘try me out’.

A test run, as it were, while she was there to watch over me and make sure I passed muster.

So off I went.

She informed me they ‘kept Kosher’. Did I know what that meant? Vaguely I said.

So she proceeded to show me around the kitchen with its double sets of everything.

I had no idea how vague my knowledge was until that moment.

Anyway, I guess I passed the first test and she booked me for that night.

She planned the meal so I wouldn’t be too confused.

Hotdogs.

I could do that.

She reminded me of the ‘meat’ serving utensils and dishes and off she went.

Dinnertime came; I meticulously got out all the proper dishes and accoutrement and made dinner.

I was feeling pretty proud of myself that I actually got it right.

The dinner went smoothly, they came home and off I went.

The next day she called.

I assumed it was to book me for another gig but instead she began to shout at me for being a dunce!

I couldn’t get a word in edgewise!

Finally, I managed to slow her down enough to ask what I had done wrong.

I had made a slight error she said ……..I served MILK with the hot dogs the previous night!

Oooops…….