MY SCIENTIFIC THEORY

When I was teaching, sometimes curious students would ask, “Why didn’t you ever have any children?” I think the reason I never became a parent is because I babysat a lot when I was growing up myself and I was really terrible at it. Terrible with a capital T-Terrible.

I started out caring for my much younger siblings, for free, of course, graduated to the neighbor kids, 50 cents an hour, and then spread out to various homes around town as I got older. Now Big Sis was a babysitting genius--a regular teenage Mary Poppins--so I think it was expected that I would be likewise, but I wasn’t. The kids were always bratty and noisy and didn’t want to go to bed, and once they DID go to bed I was exhausted and wanted to fall asleep myself. I always prayed the parents would get home early to put me out of my misery.

My most memorable babysitting experience was with the three Fink boys, Danny, David, and Greggie, adorable little “stair-steps.” But they were as ornery as they were cute. On this particular night when I arrived, their mother told me they were playing in the basement. Out the door she went, and I headed downstairs to check out what the boys were doing. I was appalled. They were playing with their Uncle Larry’s chemistry set. We’re talking three, four, and five years old here. Regular Dr. Jekylls and Mr. Hydes.

There must have been twenty or more tubes of chemicals laying around, and the boys were mixing them together, undoubtedly to see what evil they could produce for their babysitter. As I got closer to them, I saw Greggie, the youngest, stirring some black, bubbly concoction in a beaker. Good grief! They were going to blow up the house!

“Let’s put this away and go upstairs and play,” I quickly suggested. At which point Greggie put the glass rod inside his mouth to taste his creation--like you would do with cake mix paddles. Holy crap! I went into freak-out mode, certain that he had poisoned himself with whatever chemicals that were now dripping down into his stomach. I grabbed him, dashed upstairs, and forced him to drink a glass of water and another and another. He didn’t seem sick at all and had no idea what the fuss was all about, but it really shook me up.

I decided to wait to see if he had any ill effects before calling his mother--and then the second wave of panic hit me: I’d totally forgotten about Danny and David, still downstairs. Lord knows what they were probably doing with their own beakers of bubbly stuff. So, Greggie and I went back to the basement--only to discover that his brothers were gone. Where in the world had THEY gone? Had some chemical caused them to totally disappear off the face of the earth? How was I going to explain THAT to their mother?

Back upstairs we went. I called for Danny and David. No answer. Checked every room. Nothing. Sonofabitch. Went outside and started yelling for them. Do you think they’d answer? Of course not. So, Greggie and I (now operating in pissed off mode) started scoping out the neighborhood. It was starting to get dark outside; I’d have to hurry up and find them--and eventually I did, hiding in shrubbery at the library down the street. They were laughing. I was steamed, but at least relieved that the chemicals hadn’t dissolved them. Home we marched.

I don’t recall now if I ever told Mrs. Fink about any of this. When she returned later that night and asked how the boys behaved, I probably mumbled, “just dandy,” collected my battle pay, and limped on home.

Anyway, that’s why I think I never wanted to have children of my own. Bad chemistry.