22 September 2010

Calling all nannies

There are many changes happening with my schedule these days. I am taking one final class as well as starting a second job this week. There are things that I need to make sure to pay off before I move out to California next fall. Not only that, but (*covers Moose's ears*) he also needs to have his tiny balls removed.

Anyway, because my schedule will require a lot more time away from home, Moose is in the process of conducting interviews for a temporary nanny. This will be a role with high expectations and total undivided attention. We're talking letting the little boy come into the bathroom with you...there are no exceptions, he's extremely needy and HAS to be near you. Given his cycloptic trait this means no more than 3 feet away, otherwise he thinks you're just a big blurry talking blob.

We have had some success this morning with interviews. He was good to get up early and post an ad on Craigslist. I was rather proud of the turnout since his ad looked something like this:

Deer Sum1, mye name iz MooSe. I live rite here in this kenell, butt most tymes i git 2 run round tha huse. i lik mye weener 2 much, mom sez. im jus a cupple inches off da ground. always happee. lyke toys. kan u come ovurr n watch me while mom duz othur things? jus 4 liddle while. im sweet. shee pays gud.

So far we've had a number of nice candidates. I did happen to also place an ad saying that he is fond of apples and kisses, so that prompted a greater number of resumes. He insisted on conducting the interviews himself since he had a better understanding of what he needed in a good nanny.

"Why? You're not that hard to make happy, honey."

"But, Mother, what if I accidentally pass the silent gas? Those are smelly and you always tell me to go wash myself after. What if the new nanny can't handle it?"

"I guess. And since we're on the subject of smelly, you also need to make sure you let them know how you like to yawn right in their face first thing in the morning."

"I don't know what you're talking about, lady...my bref ain't stank."

Before I could respond he raced upstairs and put on his best little suit and combed his ears back. Since he has no thumbs, he gets clip-on ties and when he came down the stairs he accidentally put it on wrong and got his lower lip caught in it. My son tries so hard. He even asked me to spray him with his little bottle of cologne.

He vacuumed out his kennel and got out his little chair along with a clipboard with a list of questions. He put together the list the night before using his brand new crayons. He was writing intensely as indicated by his little tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth. Note: if you're envisioning this, he's left-handed. Like his mother. He didn't have an extra chair so he just piled up some pillows and said the candidates can just sit on those.

"Why don't you just let them have the chair and you lay on the pillow like you do when you watch Nickelodeon?"

"Mo-om! Cuz this is business! Don't embarrass me! And can you go sit over there when I do this? You always have to be so anal, I can do this!"

"Ok ok. You do it your way, I just go fold some laundry."

The candidate, who will be called Farrah (in honor of the late Farrah Fawcett and for confidentiality purposes), was dressed quite nicely in her little pant suit. I had advertised that it was not necessary to dress up since my son runs around naked anyway. Casual attire would have sufficed. But to each his own.

The interview went a little something like this:

"Ok, Farrah, I see here that you have 2 squeaky toys and like to play all day. What kind of squeaky toys?"

"Well, one is a squeaky hamburger and the other is a squeaky football."

"Okaaaay...well, I think I might be able to work with that. (*adjusts his monocle and clears throat*) Now, just so you know, I am a fan of the hotdog and the soccer ball. This may affect your pay."

"Well, I will work hard, Mr. Moose. I promise."

"I believe you, Farrah. I really do. Now, my mother, she will rub my ears and eyes and she gets on the floor with me to play all the time. Can you match that kind of work ethic?"

"Uh, I---I--I really think I can."

"Ok, well, what if, oh, I don't know, let's just say I happen to get a hold of some of those weird panty things. What would you do?"

"Um, I don't know. I guess I'd let you have them?"

"Is that right? Now what do you know about these panty things?"

"Um, well, I know they are a piece of clothing and I guess that's about it. I'm not sure if this is a trick question but what's the deal with panties?"

"Oh, uh, well, nothing. That was just a test. You passed. If you ever see me with a pair, just look the other way and if my mother would ever happen to ask you if I had some, just remember this phrase: I di'in't see nuthin'."


"Practice it one time for me."

"I, um, I...oh gosh..."

"It's ok, take your time, we can practice all day."

"I....uh....I di...int...see, um, oh what's that word...NUTHIN!"

"Yessss! I think you and I will be fast friends. But one last thing, do you happen to have any apple pieces?"

"I do, but they are Gala apples."

"That's ok, just slip me a few pieces now. When you start tomorrow you can just bring Fuji. Mom's real specific on what kind of apples."

My son, the little clip-on tie-wearing boy just found himself a naive and clueless nanny. And I'm pretty sure that instead of going over his pooping routine he is only showing her where I keep his treats, the best route to my top dresser drawer, and telling her that he's allowed to watch PG-13 when that is clearly NOT the case.

What was I thinking?

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