Kristy and the Baby Parade Read online

  “Sure,” said Claudia. “We’d love to sit for you.”

  I excused myself from the group and joined Anita and Don. “Thanks for being such great teachers,” I said. “You really made the course fun!”

  Ethan poked his head out from behind Anita’s skirt. “Will you baby-sit for me someday?” he asked me. I guess he’d gotten over his shyness.

  “Sure, Ethan,” I said. “Anytime.” I smiled at Anita and Don and said good-bye.

  * * *

  My friends and I had decided to hold our own little celebration after the graduation ceremony, so, once the reception was over, we headed for Claud’s room, our usual meeting spot.

  Claud passed out some brownies she’d made (she had pretzels for Dawn and Stacey) and poured us each some diet soda. “Here’s to the graduates!” she said, and we “clinked” our paper cups.

  We talked some more about the class and the people in it. “Can you believe how huge Mrs. Nielsen got?” asked Stacey. “I can’t imagine having a belly that big.”

  “I wonder if she’ll really have the baby today,” said Mary Anne. “How exciting.”

  Suddenly, in the midst of our celebration, I remembered that I’d promised to let Mrs. Prezzioso know right away when I had completed the infant-care course. I reached for the phone and called her.

  “That’s great, Kristy!” she said when I’d told her the news. “Can you start a week from Monday? I’ll need you every Monday and Thursday from three until five, for four weeks all together.”

  “Sure,” I said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “So is Jenny,” said Mrs. Prezzioso. “And I’m sure if Andrea could talk, she’d say she was, too.”

  Just as I said good-bye and hung up, I heard Andrea squeal in the background, and I felt a little twinge of uneasiness. I was going to be taking care of a real baby soon.

  Was I ready?

  When the time came for my first baby-sitting job with Jenny and Andrea, I did feel ready. I had gone over all my notes and reread every pamphlet and handout that Don and Anita had given us. I was sure that I was prepared for anything that might happen that day. After all, I had aced the course, right?

  Well, partly right. That day, I found out that taking care of an infant is one thing, but that taking care of an infant and her four-year-old sister is quite another.

  “Hi, Kristy, come on in!” said Mrs. Prezzioso when she answered the door that afternoon. She was speaking in a hushed tone, and I gave her a curious look. “Andrea’s asleep,” she said quietly. “She just went down for a short nap. She’ll probably wake up in a half hour or so.”

  “KRISTY!!!” yelled Jenny, flying down the hall toward me.

  I caught her and gave her a quick squeeze. “Shhh, Jenny. Let’s not wake Andrea for a little while, okay?” I whispered.

  “Okay,” she whispered back. “Can we play Candy Land?”

  Mrs. Prezzioso laughed. “I told you she was excited about this,” she said. “She loves being a big sister — you’ll see that when Andrea wakes up. But she also needs plenty of attention when the two of you are alone together.”

  I noticed that Jenny wasn’t as dressed up as she usually is. I guess Mrs. P. doesn’t have the time these days to create perfect outfits for every occasion. Jenny always used to look like a model in a clothing catalog. She’d be dressed in prim white dresses with yards of lace, matching socks, and hair ribbons. But lately she’s been looking more like a regular little girl.

  For that matter, Mrs. P. didn’t look quite like she used to, either. Mary Anne always said that Mrs. P. looked like she had just stepped out of one of those magazines that have articles with titles like “A Dozen Glamorous New Ways to Use Leftover Meatloaf.” But that day she simply appeared nice and neat, like any mother on her way to a meeting of her daughter’s preschool board.

  I guess having a four-year-old and a baby is keeping Mrs. P. pretty busy.

  She began to run through some hurried instructions as she put on her jacket and searched for her car keys. “I’ve left some of Andrea’s bottles in the refrigerator — they’re all made up and all you have to do is put them in the bottle warmer when you need one,” she said. “Her diapers are in the little closet beneath the changing table,” she went on. “And if she — oh, dear, I’m late,” she said, looking at her watch.

  “Don’t worry, Mommy,” said Jenny. “I’ll be a good helper. I know how to take care of Andrea.”

  “That’s right, sweetie,” said Mrs. P., bending to kiss Jenny. “You’re a wonderful sister and a big help to your mommy and daddy. You be good for Kristy, all right?”

  Jenny nodded and gave her mother a hug. “Now can we play Candy Land?” she asked, turning to me.

  I laughed. “Sure, Jenny. ’Bye, Mrs. P. Have a good meeting.”

  As soon as the front door closed, Jenny grabbed my hand and pulled me into the living room. She pulled Candy Land off a shelf in a big cabinet.

  “Let’s bring it outside to play,” she said. “I like to play Candy Land out in the front yard, under my favorite tree.”

  “Oh, Jenny,” I said. “We can’t. What if Andrea woke up and we didn’t hear her?”

  “But I want to play outside!” she said, looking stubborn. Now that sounded like the old, spoiled Jenny, the one who was used to always getting her way. I was going to have to be firm.

  “Remember what your mommy said about being a good helper?” I asked. “I need you to help me listen for Andrea. And to do that, we’ll have to play inside.”

  “Okay,” said Jenny immediately. “I’ll set up the game.” She pulled out the box and opened it.

  Just then, I heard a sound from upstairs. Was that Andrea?

  “All ready!” said Jenny.

  “Shhh …” I whispered. “Just a second. Did you hear that?” I heard the sound again, and this time I was sure. Andrea was waking up.

  “Yay!” said Jenny. “Andrea’s awake. Let’s go play with her.”

  I headed upstairs to the nursery, with Jenny at my heels. I was surprised at how easily she’d given up her game of Candy Land. (I can’t say I was all that sorry to have missed out on it, myself. Candy Land is so boring!) As we entered the room, I saw Andrea lying in her crib, on her stomach. She had pushed herself up with her arms and was holding her head up — a little unsteadily — and looking around as she gave her soft cries.

  “Hi, Andrea!” I said softly. “Oh, she’s so cute,” I said to Jenny.

  “I helped pick out her outfit for today,” said Jenny proudly. “Pink is my favorite color, and it’s hers, too.” She walked over to the crib, stuck her hand between the railings, and patted her sister’s foot. “Andrea-Bandrea,” she said. “Hi-hi!”

  I let Andrea study my face for a minute. She looked a little confused; no doubt she had expected her mother instead of me. But she didn’t seem all that upset about it. I’m sure that having Jenny there helped. At least one person in the room was familiar to her.

  When I figured I’d given her enough time to get used to my face, I bent down and lifted her out of the crib.

  “Do you need a new diaper?” I asked her. She gurgled in reply. I checked to see if she was wet. “Looks like you’re okay for now,” I said. I was holding her carefully, just the way I’d been taught in class.

  Suddenly, she started to cry, and I mean really cry. Her screams were so loud that I wanted to cover my ears. But I couldn’t do that while I was holding her. Jenny could, though. And she did.

  She stood with her hands over her ears, shouting, “Make her stop! I hate it when she cries like that!” Jenny’s eyes were squinched shut, and she looked like she was in pain.

  What a racket.

  I jiggled Andrea. I walked around the room with her. I spoke to her in a soothing, calm voice. She kept on screaming. And so did Jenny.

  “Jenny,” I said, raising my voice so I could be heard over both of them. “That’s enough. I don’t like the noise, either, but it doesn’t help any when you yell also. Let�
�s go downstairs and get Andrea a bottle, okay?”

  She took her hands off her ears right away. “Okay!” she said. “I’ll show you how to make it warm.” She ran down the hall and I followed, carrying the still-wailing Andrea.

  When we reached the kitchen, Jenny ran to the refrigerator and threw open the door. Wow! Mrs. P. had left enough bottles to last us a week. I guess she wanted to make sure that Andrea wouldn’t go hungry, but it looked as if she’d gone overboard.

  Jenny reached for one of the bottles — and knocked over a bowl of spaghetti that had been left unwrapped on a top shelf.

  “Oh, no,” I muttered. Andrea kept screaming. Jenny looked at me guiltily.

  “I didn’t mean —” she began.

  “That’s okay, Jenny.” I said. “Tell you what. Let’s get the bottle into the warmer, and then you can help me clean up the mess.”

  Once I’d turned on the bottle warmer (I was really glad the Prezziosos had one, since warming a bottle in a pan on the stove — as we’d been taught in class — sounded a lot more complicated), I set to work cleaning up the mess in the refrigerator. It wasn’t easy to do, with a crying baby in one arm. Jenny was “helping,” but, although she was eager, she made the mess worse instead of better.

  I stood up to rinse out a sponge and looked at the clock. Three-thirty. I’d only been there for half an hour! How was I going to last until five?

  The bell on the bottle warmer went off just as I wiped up the last of the spaghetti. I sat down at the kitchen table, getting into a good “feeding” position. Andrea was still yelling, but as soon as I put the bottle into her mouth, her crying stopped.

  What a relief.

  Jenny sat down next to us and watched eagerly as Andrea sucked at the bottle. “See how her eyes open and close?” she said. “Look at her little hands.”

  Jenny was obviously in love with her baby sister.

  Andrea ate and ate. My arm started to fall asleep, but I didn’t want to bother her by shifting my position. After awhile, Jenny started to squirm in her seat. She was becoming restless.

  “Jenny,” I said. “After Andrea finishes her bottle I’ll strap her into her seat and she can watch while we make cookies.”

  “Yay!” shouted Jenny. Andrea “startled” at the noise. Anita had told us about that reflex. Babies do it when they hear a sudden sound. Her whole body seemed to jump, and her eyes flew wide open. For a minute I thought she was going to start crying again, but then she relaxed.

  When she was finished with her bottle, I put her into her bouncer seat and strapped her in carefully. Then I set out the ingredients for cookies, and Jenny and I began our project.

  We were soon interrupted when Andrea started to cry again. She was grabbing at her stomach, and I realized that she must have gas. I’d forgotten to burp her!

  Then, just when she had settled down and I had turned back to measuring and sifting the flour, she began to cry once more. “What is it this time?” I asked.

  “Diaper, probably,” said Jenny. The voice of experience. And she was right.

  I changed Andrea without a hitch.

  But we never got to make the cookies. There was one interuption after another, all afternoon. Jenny was disappointed, but all I could do was apologize. It was just too hard to take care of Andrea’s needs and do special projects like baking at the same time.

  I realized that I had to take it easy. I didn’t have to be Super-sitter. I just needed to be a responsible sitter. Next time I would know.

  At the stroke of five, Mrs. P. rushed in. I hadn’t had a chance to finish cleaning up the kitchen, so I started to apologize. “I’m sorry for the mess,” I said. “We were —”

  “That’s okay,” she interrupted. “Look at this! Doesn’t this look like fun?” She showed me a piece of paper she was waving around. It was an entry form for the baby parade. “I got it at Jenny’s school. She’s too old to be in it, but I’m dying to enter Andrea. She’ll need a costume and decorations for her stroller….”

  “It does look like fun,” I said. “In fact, I was thinking of —”

  But she didn’t let me finish my sentence. “You’ll help me, won’t you, Kristy? I won’t have time to do much, but I’ll be glad to pay you extra if you could help.”

  “Oh — I — well …” I began. I had really wanted to enter Emily, and I didn’t see how I could do both. “I’m not sure I’ll have the time,” I said finally.

  “Okay, well why don’t you think about it?” she asked. “Let me know in a few days.”

  I agreed, and after she’d paid me I said good-bye to the girls and headed out the door. Mrs. P. sure was excited about the parade, I thought. She hadn’t even remembered to ask me how the afternoon went!

  Claud was sitting that day for a couple of our favorite kids, Jamie Newton (he’s four) and his baby sister, Lucy. Jamie’s always been a sweet little boy, and Lucy is just about the happiest baby I’ve ever known. She’s always smiling and gurgling happily, even when she’s just woken up.

  “Hi, Claudia!” said Jamie, flinging open the door about two seconds after Claud had rung the bell. “I like your earrings!”

  Claud, as usual, was wearing some pretty wild earrings that day. And, of course, they were coordinated with her outfit. Here’s what she was wearing (I saw her later that day at our meeting): an oversized red blouse with black buttons, green leggings with white, tie-dyed streaks, and black high-top sneakers with all kinds of buckles and snaps on them. (The laces were untied, which I guess is the cool way to wear them. I’d be tripping over them all day, but Claud can pull it off.)

  Can you guess what her earrings were? Dangling watermelon slices. Get it? She was dressed like a watermelon, head to toe. And, of course, Jamie loved the effect.

  “I’m going to be a pumpkin for Halloween,” he said. (Halloween’s about three million months away, but you know how kids are. They like to plan ahead for their favorite holidays.) “Maybe you can help me with my costume.”

  “Sure, Jamie,” said Claudia. “I’d love to.” Just then, Mrs. Newton came into the front hall. She was carrying Lucy, holding her car keys, and trying to put on her coat at the same time.

  “Here,” said Claudia. “I’ll take her.” Lucy clung to her mother for just a second, but when Claud made a funny face at her, she burst out laughing and fell into Claud’s arms.

  “Thanks, Claudia,” said Mrs. Newton. “I’m just going to run a few errands, but I’ll be sure to be back by five-fifteen so you can make your meeting.”

  “I may take them to the library, if that’s all right,” said Claudia. She’d been thinking that it would be fun to take Jamie to the children’s room and show him the new puppet theater. She’d heard about it from her mom, who’s the head librarian.

  “Liberry! Liberry!” chanted Jamie immediately. “We’re going to the liberry!” He jumped up and down.

  “That sounds great,” said Mrs. Newton. “Lucy’s stroller is on the porch. Oh, and there’s a pile of books you could return for me. They’re on top of Jamie’s dresser. Thanks!” She grabbed her pocketbook, gave Jamie and Lucy each a quick kiss, and rushed out the door.

  “Let’s go, Claudia!” said Jamie, pulling at her hand. “Let’s go to the liberry!”

  “I’m glad you want to go,” said Claudia, “but first we need to make sure Lucy’s wearing a clean diaper, and pack a bag with a bottle in it, in case she needs a snack while we’re there.”

  “I need a snack, right now!” said Jamie. “I’m hungry. But after that, can we go?”

  “Sure,” said Claud, and for the next fifteen minutes she was very busy trying to get Lucy ready for their short trip, making a peanut butter and honey sandwich (on toast) for Jamie, and rounding up the library books, which Jamie had unstacked from the pile on his dresser.

  Then it took another fifteen minutes to dress Jamie and Lucy for the outdoors. Jamie “helped” by shoving Lucy’s feet into her zip-up suit and then jamming the zipper as he tried to close it. Luckily for
Claud, Lucy just smiled and babbled happily, and her dark blue eyes sparkled as she looked into Claud’s brown ones.

  Claud had a good time pushing Lucy’s stroller down the street. Lucy was so cute that everyone who saw her stopped to smile. Some people bent down and asked Lucy questions in baby-talk.

  Jamie walked beside the stroller, proud of his little sister and of the attention she was getting. He told anyone who asked how old she was. He never forgot to add his own age, too, Claud noticed, as well as his birthday.

  “Maybe I’ll get a lot of presents if all those people know my birthday,” he explained happily.

  When Claud entered the children’s room at the library, the noise almost knocked her over. The room was packed with screaming, yelling, jumping kids. She grabbed Jamie’s hand and held Lucy closer. (She’d left the stroller at the entrance and was carrying Lucy.)

  “What’s going on?” she yelled over the clamor, when she’d caught the eye of the children’s librarian.

  “We just had an after-school program,” the woman yelled back. “And it’s almost time for story hour. It should empty out pretty soon.”

  She was right. Claud took her charges over to a corner to read a book to them and wait out the crowds. After a few minutes the room had grown much quieter. Then she showed Jamie the puppet theater. He loved it, and started putting on a show about Little Red Riding Hood. Claudia and Lucy watched.

  “Now I’m going to get you,” Jamie said in as deep a voice as he could manage, waving the wolf puppet menacingly. “Oh, no!” he answered in a high, squeaky voice. He danced the girl puppet backward. Lucy waved her hands and shrieked with laughter.

  The show went on until Little Red Riding Hood had been saved by various characters, including Spider-Man. Finally, Claud realized they’d better go home if she wanted to get to the club meeting on time.

  * * *

  “Order!” I said, as the clock on Claud’s desk turned to 5:30. All of us were there, sprawled out around the room. Dawn had been showing us a postcard her brother had sent her from Venice Beach, California. On the front was a photo of a roller-skater wearing an outrageous outfit.