It seems like every TV portrayal of babysitters has always been done by a female. Even in my day, that wasn’t true. I hung out with Wendy, Donnie, Laurie, and Kerri a few times while Aunt Linda and Uncle Don went somewhere. I don’t think they quite realized they were introducing a fifth kid into the household, but we managed to get through it without tearing down the house, so I guess I did OK. Many years later, they reminded me how I said “guzzle, guzzle, guzzle” or some similar silliness. I think somewhere in our adventures, I was pretending to fill up something with gas. It’s funny what you remember, but I suppose having fun with cousins is about as good as it gets.
Most of my babysitting duty was watching Alan, Kim, and Scott while Uncle Bo and Aunt Nancy went to work. It was easy money as all I was really doing was spending the night, getting Alan and Kim up in the morning, and seeing to it that they made it on the bus. I remember once we missed the bus, so I had to load them up in my car and catch up with the bus down the road. I got it done, though.
There was one memory that stands out above the rest. It was one of the first times I spent the night there. Scott was still a baby, and he slept in this bag-like thing that zipped up. It was kind of like a sleeping bag with arms. At that time, he was still in a crib. In the morning, I get Alan and Kim up. We’re in the kitchen getting something for breakfast, and I hear something in the hall, so I step around, and it’s Scott walking in this thing, and it looks like he’s done it a million times. I know I couldn’t have done it. I was slightly amused until it hit me that he had somehow gotten out of the crib while wearing that thing. I don’t know how he did it without breaking his neck, but he was not going to do it again on my watch. From that point forward, he slept in a twin bed with me, between me and the wall. Fortunately, I was a skinny kid.
I don’t remember how much I was paid, but I know it was enough to keep gas in the car and allow me to stop by the store on the way home for an RC Cola and a bite to eat. There wasn’t anything else in the world I needed. But there was something else, and I hope it makes sense.
People have varying definitions of what a hero is. When most people think of a hero, they think of someone that does something extraordinary in a crisis. They do something to help someone with little or no regard for their own safety. That’s not my definition, though. I am more impressed by someone who has done it day after day for decades. For me, two of those heroes were my Uncle Bo and Aunt Nancy, a police officer and an intensive care nurse. No, I wasn’t doing anything heroic, not much of anything really. But I was doing something that made it easier for heroes to do their thing. For a teenage country boy, that wasn’t too shabby.