Okay, don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate all kids. But I didn’t have kids for a reason, and it was NOT so that I could babysit yours. I work as a physical therapy tech. So when parents bring their kids in, they need to keep them quiet, keep them from mashing their snacks into the floor, and tell them not to bug me while I’m trying to work.
Not-a-babysitter.
So when I saw this post from Miss Flohr, I couldn’t help but laugh, since I do the same thing:
I agreed. And I have a reason for it. I definitely don’t treat them like kids to make them like me.
Quite the opposite, in fact, However; It’s brat-magnetic. I don’t coo at them, or giggle at what they do, or do that other cutesy crap b/c I want them to know:
What I think: “Hey, I’m not interested in that piece of sh*t thing you drew. And no, I don’t want it. So don’t bring it to me.”
What I say: “Oh… Grrreat. Why don’t you sign it and I’ll put it in my [square] file”
Brat: “Yeah… it’s a DOGGY”
What I think: “Noooohoho, hun… THAT is not a doggy. That’s what MY doggy shat out yesterday. And then she ate it. And then she barfed it back out again. Now, whether she ate it a second time again is debatable. Anyway, that’s what that is.”
What I say: “Yeah, sure it is… that looks like my doggy [leaving out the vomit/defecation part for zero reason other than the fear of losing my job]”
Brat: “No..it’s MY doggy”
What I want to say: “Hah! Maybe if he was sleeping under the wheel as mommy backed out of the driveway on her way to bring her two brats to physical therapy today (which even SHE is probably regretting having done at this point).
Now go sit next to your sister, play that game where you see who can keep their mouths closed longer – but make sure to keep breathing. Ehh… that second part is optional.”
What I actually say: (to her mom) “Hey, is she going to fall down from that six foot tall table she’s trying to scale? Just wondering…”
The kicker is when this same brat was brought in on a separate day, and another unrelated patient, who was observing the child’s actions, told me that I should go and make sure the kid didn’t fall as she tried to scale that same table.
We aren’t a jungle gym! Child care wasn’t on my resume prior to my date of hire. We are nice enough to let that patient bring in her brats at all. But that’s where it ends. SHE needs to watch them. That is NOT my job. And my boss knows better than to ask that of me.
This time, I had no problem telling said patient exactly how I felt. I’ve mastered saying “F.U.” with a smile, so I pretty much told her where to get off, but professionally and politely, with all the right euphemisms.
I would sooner wait until your kid falls down, rather than further strain my back to save their stupid disobedient asses. Not because I’m the boogey man, but because I don’t get tipped or paid to do either, and you (as a mom) chose to spread your legs and pop them out, so you need to watch them.
Either you know your brats well enough to know that they fall all the time and are going to be fine when it happens again in a second here, or you need to work on your parenting skills. What better way to learn than to have your brat hit the floor and start screeching? Experience is the best education~!! Lesson learned. Next time you’ll watch and they’ll listen to you.
I don’t have a maternal inclination. Don’t assume I do. I care about some of my friend’s kids. They’re cute. I care about those kids. You’ll know if I care because I will ask how your kids are doing and comment on their cute pictures you post on facebook. But not some random patient who assumes I’m a daycare employee.
Again: NOT a babysitter.
xoxo
<3~A