The kid I never had

It's going to be surprisingly snark-free today, gentle readers, so if you need a dose of bitchy, I'd suggest checking out an old post. Today, I am feeling a wee bit sentimental.

Back in the day, I used to be a nanny. My young charge was a pig-tailed, giggly 18 month-old cheese enthusiast who liked colouring, going down the slide, and visits to the park to see the ducks. She also, more disturbingly, enjoyed ripping up countless picture books with a zeal then more commonly reserved for works by Salman Rushdie. Luckily, her penchant for destroying the written word was gone long before her baby teeth.

I don't get to see her very much these days, but she and her mom and I went to Starbucks today, and it's still a bit weird for me to realize she's not a little girl anymore. My instinct was to wait with her while they made her drink, rather than go grab a table. Never mind that she could very likely pin any pervert who approached her, then make a citizen's arrest, all without messing up her hair or spilling her frappuccino.


Even after I stopped being her nanny, we'd go to movies together. "101 Dalmatians" was the first one. I remember pouring Smarties into the skirt of her little dress once she sat down, turning it into sort of a built-in candy bowl. She knew the movie was a cartoon about lots of dogs. During the previews, a trailer for "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves" came on. She looked at me and said, in the most accusatory voice a 3 1/2 year old can muster, "Dis is not da movie!" I explained that sometimes, they showed you a little bit of another movie in case you wanted to come see it another time. I could sense her displeasure with this lame-assed explanation as she waited for the oft-promised puppies, quietly eating her Smarties. I suspect to this day, she's never seen "Robin Hood", seeing as how that jerk delayed her Dalmatians enjoyment.

Being a Disneyphile, she received a Beast doll from "Beauty and the..." fame the year the movie came out. This doll came as the Beast, but a quick removal of his little furry gloves and his face mask turned him into the handsome prince. Whenever anyone would try and remove his mask, she would lose her four year-old shit. I like to think that even then she realized, sometimes, handsome ain't everything.


She's 23 now, a truly beautiful young woman, proudly wearing her X ring and telling me I totally have to creep her handsome boyfriend on Facebook. You're right, sweets, he's a fox. I always knew the cute little kid would become a pretty young girl, but I am forever amazed by the kind, smart, poised, and accomplished woman she has become.



And, best of all, she still thinks I'm cool, even though I no longer try and make her laugh by wearing beaver teeth I've fashioned out of cubes of Havarti.  She once drew a picture of her family; she and her mom and dad were crayon drawings; for me, she had cut out a picture of supermodel Stephanie Seymour. Stephanie and I have little in common beyond a shameful love of long-haired musicians in our younger years. Best picture ever.

I don't know if I'll be lucky enough to have a kid of my own. I hope so. But I know this - I could only hope to have a daughter as wonderful as her. Her parents have done a terrific job raising a great girl, and I thank them for trusting me enough all those years ago to let me be a part of her life. They're the ones who truly have a right to be proud of her, but I'd like to think a tiny bit of who she is today is because of the days we spent together, feeding the ducks, eating cookies, and rocking out to Depeche Mode and Grace Jones, me in Doc Martens and she in a diaper. I love you, kid. Just stay away from my lipsticks.