shirley

I used to babysit my niece, Shirley, during school holidays because her parents thought my folks would enjoy having a kid around. What they didn't consider was that the assigned babysitter was an 18-year-old who had just finished the HSC and was eager to enjoy her newfound freedom. Perhaps my parents were fully aware and used babysitting as a clever form of house arrest.

Desperate to quit my unpaid babysitting gig, I tried to make her miserable enough to want to leave. I gave her chores, hoping she'd hate staying with us and beg to go home. I even blocked her on MSN because her phonetic shorthand texts and fluorescent fonts were driving me nuts. Once, I came home to find she’d ransacked my precious sticker collection, sticking them heartlessly all over my desk. The final straw was when she dropped my pet rabbit down the stairs, breaking his spine, and he had to be put down. I got in trouble for locking her out of my room after she woke me up every morning by banging on the door. Thankfully, I had conditioned myself to sleep through it.

When Shirl started primary school, we actually became friends. She helped me get ready for dates by curling or braiding my hair, tying complicated laces, and giving my outfit a once-over. Her creativity made my bedroom cozy, and she was handy in the kitchen, cutting up watermelon on hot summer days. I tricked her into cleaning the house with false promises of shopping trips. When I renovated my bedroom, she was my little handyman, assembling furniture with ease and showcasing freakish strength in heavy lifting. Some may call it child labor; I prefer ‘personal development.’ She matured quickly thanks to my rigorous training. My niece is smart, almost as smart as me. I sometimes see a young me in her (minus the handy work, creativity, and strength...).

It almost seemed like she was the babysitter. You see, a good child minder allows the kid plenty of freedom and encourages them to be independent. I just took this method to a whole new level. My babysitting career ended when Shirl started high school, and her visits dwindled and eventually stopped altogether. I took her off my block list and was disappointed by the absence of her eager messages. Whenever I invited her over, she was busy and preferred hanging out with friends. Ouch. My little girl was growing up.

Shirley is now 15 years old and taller than me. She visited last Friday night, and I asked her to sleep over. To my surprise, she agreed, and I knew this was my chance to win her back. I pulled out all the stops: I let her hug my hot water bottle, let her pick a DVD for us to watch, and took her shopping in Paddington. We had Japanese in the city, and I bought her whatever drinks and snacks she wanted. I was at her mercy.

We reminisced about the past and laughed about how we used to fight and slam doors in each other’s faces. She asked about my current love life, and I was pleased to hear she still hated boys. I made a mental note to ask her again next year. She showed me her Myspace page, and I made fun of her unoriginal teeny-bopper pouty-lipped pose. I'm glad we're friends again. Last night, she sewed the missing buttons back onto my coat. It feels like old times.