The Story of My Life :P

The Stupid Sleep-Talking Babysitter

I am a girl who has many peculiar features. I'm a morning person, I'm left-handed, I like working out, and, most important to this story, I respond to people when they talk to me while I'm asleep.

So one Saturday back when I was in Jr. High, I got up bright and early and prepared myself for the day. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, and ate breakfast. As was also customary for me, I packed a large bag with everything I might need in case I had to leave for some reason (ever the dreamer, hoping that the characters in my stories would come to life and drag me away :) ). I always enjoyed my Saturdays, emphasis on the 'my'. Having decided to play The Sims 2, I hopped on the computer. Time passed. My mother came downstairs and began getting ready to go to work at our church.

"Look at you, all grown up! You're all ready for your babysitting job today!" She smiled.

"What?" I asked.

As far as I knew, this had never been approved.

"Don't you remember our conversation last night?"

"No..." my confusion deepened. "When did you ask me to babysit?"

"Well, last night, around midnight, I came into your room and asked you to babysit for six hours today for our neighbors. You sat up; you looked wide awake, but you seemed confused. You thought that they were in trouble and that you needed to get up to babysit them at that moment. But you accepted the job."

"Mom...?" I had formed a hypothesis and was ready to share it.

"What?"

"I...I think I was talking in my sleep. I don't remember any of that...six hours? What am I getting paid?"

"Paid?"

Oh no. Six hours with a two-year-old and NO PAY?

"Okay. I'll do it. But I was asleep."

She found the whole situation rather hilarious. Looking back on it, I think it was, too. I've only spoken in my sleep once since then (as far as I know). Anyway, I thought that discovering that I talk in my sleep was exciting. A bit unfortunate, but then again, so was most of my life at the time. I had no idea that the job itself would be a lot more interesting than how I accepted it.

* * *

"Alright. I should be back around three, and Meniah needs to be down for her nap at one. I've got half an orange for her for a snack at around eleven. Here's my number if you need anything, and my husband's. Don't hesitate to call! And really, thank you so much for doing this for me! I'll see you later. Be good, Meniah!" Carla, the mom I was babysitting for, called to her dark-skinned, adorable two-year-old daughter before snatching up her purse and dashing out of the door.

Meniah looked at me expectantly. Her big brown eyes were growing impatient.

"What do you want to do today, Meniah?" I asked.

"I wanna watch Magascar." She pointed shyly to the television. She spoke well enough for a two-year-old, but I'm blond, and two is another language entirely to me.

"Magascar?" I mumbled, more to myself than the child. "Oh! Madagascar, the movie!" I deciphered. The case was sitting beside the TV.

"Okay, Meniah. I'll get the DVD ready. We can watch Madagascar, but you have to sit on the couch and behave." I looked her directly in the eyes. "Do you promise you'll behave?"

"I pwomiss." She replied with the solemnity that only a toddler could possess.

I had to help her onto the couch because she was so little. She fidgeted for a minute, then settled down and I proceeded to put on the movie. After a few stressful and confusing minutes of figuring out how the DVD player worked, we began to watch Madagascar.

The movie was cheesy, but at least it was slightly entertaining for me. It was extremely entertaining for Meniah, but halfway through it she changed her mind on what she wanted to do and we went into her room to play. One o clock came, and I told Meniah that she needed her nap. As you would imagine, she didn't want to take her nap. I got frustrated (internally, because letting a two-year-old know you're frustrated rarely helps the situation) and said that she could have ten more minutes to play before her nap. She gladly accepted this offer, but when the time came for her to sleep, she wouldn't have anything to do with it. 

At that moment her mother called to check up on everything. I told her the situation and she suggested I give her something to eat and let her watch a movie. I thanked her for the help and did as she said by cutting up an orange and sitting her on the couch. Again she requested Madagascar, and I put it on for her. Then I went in to the kitchen to make her a hot dog. I did everything the way I had learned it from my dad; stab the hot dog a couple times with a fork, put it on a paper plate and throw it in the microwave for thirty seconds before checking it and adding another thirty. Completely average experience for me. I pressed the 'thirty seconds' button and 'start' and turned around for ten seconds to check on Meniah, to make sure she was okay. When I turned back around, I saw the very last thing I had expected to see. 

In the microwave, a tiny little strip of yellow-orange marked the edge of the paper plate.

It was ON FIRE. 

Turned off the microwave and ran to the sink. I rinsed out an empty cup, filled it again, ran to the microwave, and splashed the fire with it. The flames still flickered, so I filled the cup up and repeated the process. After what seemed to be an eternity, the fire went out. I checked on the kid (she hadn't noticed a thing) before calling my older brother. He was only a few doors down from me. I knew when he came over that he was trying very hard to be polite and NOT laugh.

He watched Meniah for about fifteen minutes while I got rid of the 'evidence' and made lunch for Meniah. I scooped the ashes out of the microwave and mopped up the water. Many paper towels were lost that day.

Once all that had been finished, my brother left, and Meniah demanded we go into her room to play. Half an hour of colorful scribblings and book readings later, we tracked back to the living room and put on Madagascar for a THIRD time. As you can imagine, I was VERY sick of that movie and VERY ready to go home.

Carla came home half way through the last Madagascar. When she asked how everything had gone, I almost hyperventilated. I thank God I'm a good actress, because there's no way I could have kept it together. I did feel bad about lying, and it STILL bothers me to this day, but when she asked me, I just smiled and told her that Meniah was very well-behaved and I would see her later. Thirty seconds later I was at home, throwing myself on the couch to watch TV and drive all of the Madagascar out of my brain. I can't stand that movie anymore.

Such is the tale of Natalie, the stupid, sleep-talking babysitter.