“They like to explore what they’ve got down there,”

Penny said, laughingly apologetic.

“Ah…right,” I responded in my best ‘boys will be boys’ tone.

Penny is the mother of Teddy and Tim, Swedish-American boys age three and four, who do indeed enjoy poking, flicking, tugging, and generally exposing their boy parts.  My placement with them is possibly a divine intervention at my prudeness/prudity (why isn’t there a nounization of that word?), which I find wholly uncalled for.  Everyone loves a prude.  What a terrific website name – everyonelovesaprude.com – and it’s open for the taking.  Go.  (Prude.com disappointingly leads to a page covered in ads for Russian women and interracial dating.  Sacred is nothing. ?)

But back to my little cherubs.  Teddy is beautiful, as three year olds should be, with liquid hazel eyes engulfing half his face, a tiny upturned nose and perfect little chin. His round head is covered with a mop of dark brown hair that straggles on and off his forehead.  Tim is properly Nordic looking with blond hair, blue eyes, and a chinadoll complexion.  He enjoys long walks on the beach and…

“Shebooooon,” Teddy whines his interpretation of my name when he needs me.  “I have pee-pee.”

This caught my attention.  Pee pee has the ambiguous pleasure of being a reference to both the instrument and output of his nether regions, meaning the correct response to his announcement was either “Yes you do, now put it away,” or “We must go to the toilet!”

Naturally he had wet himself.  But only a little – he had had the foresight to save some for the toilet.  Upon which he sat, holding his Pee Pee (for balance I assume) and then waving his hand in front of the stream.

“It has pee!” He shouted, holding his hand up.

“Yes.  Let’s wash it with soap and water, OK?”

“OK.”  He’s really quite a compliant child.


And yes, I spent four years and tens of thousands of dollars for a university degree, only to end up as a babysitting tutor.  But there are perks.  I get to watch cartoons, eat McDonalds, and pretend to be a crocodile.  Also, when was the last time your work buddy made you a Lego flying house?  Or asked you penetrating questions about the origin of your gender?  (“Why are you a girl?  But why?”)


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