Just the Wrong Person

Courtesy of iStock photos.

"YOU read this book. Downstairs, by yourself". He folded his arms and looked away, a pout on his 4-year old face.

Was this really the thanks I was getting for my hours of making up stories, tickle games, playing with trains and being an overall very fun person? All that for this?

But really? It was just a reminder of an aha! moment I had years ago. Back when I had a six-week stint as a nanny in 2002, and that long weekend two years ago watching our friend's kiddos as they trekked it to IKEA... it was all a version of the same story: I come stay with kiddos while parents are either busy or away. I am fun. I try hard. After some time I am rejected (either obviously or subtly) by kiddos. I wonder if I do something wrong. I realize that I am just the wrong person, because I am not the mother of the kiddos. The younger the kiddo, the quicker the rejection.

And that seems to be what it comes down to in most cases. I have seen from some long-term childcare experiences that regardless of my energy to entertain, regardless of my well-practiced imitation of competence, and regardless of my coolness, at the end of the day I am just the wrong person. I am not their mom.

Which is why I never take it personally anymore.