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Ididn’t set out to become a nanny, much like I told Joy when she interviewed me. My degree in communications and psychology was a strategic pick to open a variety of doors. In fact, when I was a freshman in college, I pictured myself in an office alongside other adults. We’d attend morning meetings before going our separate ways to complete our daily tasks. It would be simple and clean and polished.
But as I sit with these two messy kiddos at this adorable coffee shop that serves dessert, it couldn’t be clearer that I’m right where I’m meant to be. Warmth spreads from my chest in a comforting wave. I can’t imagine not seeing them five days a week.
Amusement brightens my already sunny mood while I watch Bradley and Violet attack their ice cream with the ferocity of a competitive race. The siblings I look after definitely share an ambitious spirit. Maybe they’re trying to see who will get a brain freeze first. It’s bound to happen at the pace these two are eating.
The idle chatter in Bean Me Up does little to drown their enjoyment. Pleased hums accompany the metallic clink of diving in for another bite. One glance at their sticky faces further proves how much they appreciate the surprise treat. My lips automatically lift at witnessing such pure delight.
“Yum yum yum in my tum tum tum. It’s soooo yummy in my tummy,” Bradley sings the cheery tune around a mouthful of ice cream.
“Cure the craving?” I smile at the little boy who’s been in my care for the past two years.
He smacks his lips. “Super duper.”
A peek at his sister finds the toddler living her best sugarcoated life. “Is it yummy in your tummy too?”
Violet bobs her head with extra enthusiasm. The fast motion dribbles chocolate goodness down her chin and splatters her shirt with a fresh layer. Gooey brown covers most of the front at this point. It’s worse than when she gets ahold of a bag of Cheetos. She’s going to need an entire pack of wipes to make a dent in the slop, but I’ve discovered the biggest messes usually equal memorable fun. These stains are a badge of honor to her.
“Do you want help?” I lift my hand toward the spoon in offering.
“No!” She whips the utensil, sending a blob of hot fudge flying. Thankfully it lands on the floor rather than an innocent bystander in the splash zone.
I hold up my palms in a peace offering. “Okay, Miss Independent. Just making sure you didn’t want more to actually make it into your mouth.”
Violet’s forehead crinkles in effort as she scoops a huge chunk. As predicted, only a small dollop reaches the target destination. The rest paints the lower half of her face. She shows off chocolatey teeth with a megawatt grin that claims nothing but success.
“I do good,” the little girl boasts.
My smile reaches new heights to match hers. Any improvement should be celebrated. “Yes, you’re getting much better at using silverware.”
Just last month, she still preferred to eat with her hands. That was another battle entirely. A shudder rolls through me at the reminder of those countless tantrums. I’m calling this a win, sloppy or not.
“It’s almost the weekend.” Bradley makes that connection while finishing his ice cream.
I tap my phone to check the time, and promptly ignore the swoop in my belly at the notification on the screen. “Only two more hours until your mom gets home. We should get going soon.”
The kids exchange a rowdy cheer that ends with a sticky high-five. Nobody in the cozy establishment appears shocked by the random outburst. Violet boomerangs back to her dessert and Bradley tilts his head at me.
“Whadayuh do when you’re not with us?”
“I spend time with family and friends.”
His nose wrinkles. “That’s it?”
“Read. Knit. Water my plants. Go for walks. Enjoy the quiet.” My wink is paired with a cheeky grin.
He sticks his tongue out at that last point. “That’s laaaaame. You must miss us lots.”
“I sure do.” Which is why I avoid thinking about him starting kindergarten in the fall. These two have become a vital part of my routine. At least I’ll still see him in the morning and afternoon. It will just be… different.
Bradley hasn’t lost interest in the topic, his gaze fastened on me. “Why don’t you have kids?”
“I don’t have a husband.” Not that having a partner is a requirement. But in this case, it’s a simple and safe answer to appease young curiosity.
But the little boy isn’t satisfied. “Do you wanna get married?”
“Once I meet Prince Charming.”
“Pwetty pwinshess.” Violet toys with my hair, no doubt gluing several strands together.
