Nannying

I’ve been a nanny for a local family for the past four years.  When I began, they had one child: a little girl who had just turned three, and had me wrapped around her finger from day one.  Since her brother was born, I’ve been forced to overcome my fear of babies, diapers, and germs.

Cakey is a six year old princess.  Unable to come close to pronouncing her real name, Bugaboo calls her this.  Mature beyond her years (to the point that it can be slightly disconcerting), she’s truly a joy to work with….unless we’re getting ready for ballet…or swim class…or she catches me checking out their hot neighbor instead of listening to her story about “Super Why.”

Bugaboo is two and a half years old.  He’s the only male who can (sometimes literally) walk all over me.  According to his grandmother, his middle name translates to “Best Person in the World,” and I can’t help but agree, even in the midst of his terrible two’s.  I’m not sure how or when his nickname came about, but it’s a cute name and he’s cute guy.

Baby: The family’s infant daughter, who has not been alive long enough to have earned a nickname to differentiate her from Bugaboo’s favorite doll.

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