THE NANNY DIARIES
The next afternoon, having finished his lunch, Grayer announces our plans as he climbs down from his booster seat.
"Wassailing."
"What?"
"I want to wassail. I'm going to make my own Christmas. I knock on the door, you open it, and I sing my heart out."
I'm amazed that he's retained this from our visit over a week ago, but my grandmother does have a way of nestling herself into people's memories.
"Okay, what door would you like me to stand behind?" I ask.
"My bathroom," he says over his shoulder as he heads off with purpose toward his wing.
I follow him and position myself in the bathroom as directed. A few moments later I hear his little knock.
"Yes," I say, "who's there?"
"NANNY, you are just supposed to open the door! Don't talk, just open it."
"Right. Ready when you are." I sit back on the toilet seat and start checking my hair for spilt ends, sensing that this game may be slow to get off the ground.
"Again, a small knock. I lean forward and nudge the door open, almost knocking him over.
"NANNY, that's mean! You're trying to push me! I don't like that. Start over."
Eleven knocks later, I finally get it right and am rewarded with a screaming rendition of "Happy Birthday" that shakes the windowpane.
"Grover, why don't you try a little dancing while you wassail?" I ask when he finishes.
"Really wow 'em?" I hope he might quiet down if he has to divert some energy to staying in motion.
"Wassailing is not dancing, it is singing your heart out." He puts his hands on his hips.
"Close the door and I'll knock," he says, as if suggesting this routine for the first time.
We play wassailing for about half an hour until I remember that Connie, the housekeeper, is here and sic Grayer on her.
I hear him from across the apartment, screaming "Happy Birthday" over her roaring vacuum and after five rounds go back to collect what is rightfully mine.
"Want to play cars?"
"No. I want to wassail. Let's go back to my bathroom."
"Only if you dance, too."
"Oh, man, oh, man, there is NO dancing when I wassail!"
"Come on, mister, we're calling Grandma."
"On short phone call later and Grayer is not dancing and singing the actual "Here we come wassailing among the leaves so green," which is infinitely less painful, but I have been inspired with a delicious plan.
As I give Grayer's wassailing outfit (green and red striped turtleneck, felt reindeer antlers, candy-cane suspenders ) a final once-over for "ultra wassailyness," Mrs. X comes bustling in, Ramon in tow, laden with boxes.
YOU ARE READING
The nanny Diaries
HumorNan has a tricky relationship with her employer, Mrs. A non- existent relationship with Mr X. But she loves their little boy to pieces. In between looking after four-year-old Grayer and running a thousand errands for Mrs X, his rich, upr...
