Babysitting Charlie

I only had one official babysitting job in Sydney before my current au pair experience.

My little sister had the same bestfriend for the first few years of primary school, a boy I will call Charlie.

I remember seeing him run around our house when he came over and imagining how adorable it would be if they were to grow up and become sweethearts. Both had golden blonde hair, blue eyes and mischevious smiles. They always had a lot of fun together.

My mother always thought Charlie was wonderful. He was 'such a character' as I was soon to find out...

I had met Charlie's mother a few times, just quickly, when she picked him up from our house. I thought she was a wonderfully kind and vibrant woman, the kind of person who made you feel comfortable within minutes of knowing her.

When she approached my mum to ask if I was interested in baby-sitting Charlie I leapt at the opportunity.  At this stage I had just turned fifteen and I was still to get my first job, so the prospect of earning my own cash was exciting.

Charlie's mother called me to talk about the specifics of the job. Basically Charlie was learning the piano in group lessons after school once a week. However she had work. All I had to do was go straight from highschool once a week, down the road to my old primary school which Charlie and my sister also attend, and accompany him for the lesson.

The first time I had underestimated the time needed to get from highschool to the lesson. I arrived late and he was furious. The sunny little boy I knew as my sister's bestfriend was now a terrifying scold.

"You, are late!" he hissed as I slipped next to him on the piano stool. I was disheartened to find that what I thought was a little baby angel was capable of radiating such dislike. Next week will be better I told myself. It wasn't.  I made sure I was on time, but he wouldn't have it, I couldn't do anything right. During parent participation activities he held my hand with limp distaste. When the lesson finished he would run to the door, grab his bag and stalk off to aftercare without so much as a goodbye or a glance back.

"Bye Charlie...see you next week..."

I worked out eventually he was not angry at me as such after learning a bit more about his father from my parents. My mum had been told by Charlie's mother that her husband who was a science researcher had to dragged away from his work.

"The man's a workaholic," my father informed us.

Charlie's mother was also a busy woman. Not just a mum she used to be a dancer and was now holding a high up executive position in the Sydney Dance Company.

Here lay the root of my 'Charlie Problem:' Looking around the piano lesson room all the children except Charlie had a mum or dad sitting next to them. I was clearly no substitute for either of his busy parents.

So the piano lessons which continued may have been good money, but they did nothing for my confidence as a baby-sitter.

Despite the cold front Charlie must have been giving me a fairly decent review to his mother, because once the piano lessons concluded she asked if I would consider baby-sitting him on weekends and during evenings. Taking the money into account I said yes.

I approached the first weekend session preparing for the worst. I remembered my own experiences of being baby-sat at about age seven with my little brother by a woman I will call Mary. She smelt perpetually of peppermint from the gum she chewed and tucked us into bed with fake nails the length of talons. On the whole she was nice enough, but that didn't stop my brother bawling in protest until he was red in the face and dragging himself down our ten metre hallway on his stomach, abandonment exemplified. I also remember him spitefully drawing with textas on the wall.

I however was on the other end of the spectrum, whole-heartedly embracing the concept of babysitting as a home breakfast-in-bed service. I pestered Mary for late-night treats I would never have dared ask for if my parents were home. My favourites were vegemite and butter toast cut into triangles and hot chocolate at midnight. 'Thankyou, Mary, that will be all." I would wave her from my room after the delivery of a second serving of toast.

Thankfully Charlie was over-excited, a little bit hyper, not afraid to answer back, and given to outrageous cheating while playing monopoly. But at least the cold demeanor I knew from piano lessons was gone.

The next time I babysat Charlie things took a different turn. It started off normal enough but then he decided it was time for some dancing. I was amazed by his natural groove that was of a maturity beyond his years. He boogied around the house as I watched on amused and fascinated. The boy was fabulous and clearly very talented.

He got even a bit too fabulous for me though when he took his showmanship to the next level. He sat me down on the couch, turned off all lights except one to create atmosphere, then hit play on the sound system. A sexy latin-jazz track began to play. In the middle of his stage,  the loungeroom floor, he raised his head to the beat. Then his arms flipped around like little angular swords. He began to gyrate his hips and I started getting uncomfortable. Then before I knew what was hapening he had ripped off his shirt with a growl and tossed it onto my face, all the while starring deep into my eyes.

"WHOAH, WHOAH, WHOAH!" I leapt up tearing the shirt from my face. I raced over and turned down the jazz. I reassured Charlie that his dancing was terrific, but that it was time for bed. Or monopoly. Or any other activity of his choice, suitable for an eight year old boy, other than a striptease...

Later that evening when his mother drove me home I asked her whether he was receiving any dance lessons because he was just so, errm, wonderful. She shook her head suddenly looking worried.
"I know, I know..." she said anxiously as if we were discussing something sobre like a bed-wetting problem. I didn't understand at the time, being a dancer herself, why she hadn't encouraged her son to also enjoy it. To me it even sounded like she feared him enjoying it. It seemed out of character for as she had always struck me as a very progressive and relaxed individual.

"It's to do with his father," said Dad. Mum also caught onto the idea.
"Yes, the boy does love dressing up...do you think he is afraid Charlie's gay...?" Whether or not this was the case remained unanswered.

The third baby-sitting session was also eventful. I was minding not only Ben but his cousin. There was no striptease but both of them were hyper and hard to manage. Things really got out of control during a game of hide and seek. I was counting when suddenly the cousin came running inside to inform me Charlie was urinating in the middle of the street. I didn't catch the act but I was shown the puddle, and indeed, it was in the middle of the street. I found him hiding around the back of the house. Once I had them both inside I locked the doors and gave them a talking to about public hygiene.  I couldn't get too angry though, it made a good story.

The next session Charlie was particularly cheeky, answering back at nearly everything I said. Also I didn't think it possible but his cheating at boardgames had gotten even worse. At some point in the evening Charlie told me he wanted to show me something. Despite my better judgement, I agreed, he seemed so serious all of a sudden. He took me out of the back of the house to what appeared to be a renovated garage. Inside it had been turned into a bedroom, complete with desk and wardrobe. Charlie informed me it was his dad's bedroom. He looked at me strangely as if looking for some judgement to appear on my face. Things clicked. His parents were in sleeping in separate rooms, he had been playing up that evening...things weren't happy at home. I took his hand and lead him back to the house.

That was the last time I babysat Charlie. Time passed and the next thing I heard was that his parents had taken him out of my sister's school and put him into an all boys school. I always suspected that may have been his father's idea.

I sometimes wonder how the funny loveable kid is going. I just hope that he has been allowed to take dance lessons because not only do I want to be able to brag about having babysat the next up and coming Peter Allen, but because he was such a bright unique little star.