Received Tuesday, June 12, 2007
This happened yesterday (Mon. 6/11) between 12-3 pm:
A red-headed two year old named Scarlett with an older sister was being minded by a heavyset nanny with a Caribbean accent and a scarf covering her hair. The nanny had Scarlett in a McLaren stroller and spoke to her with such disdain and deep unpleasantness that it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. At one point, she tried to hand Scarlett some pretzels. "Do you want these?" she said. "Do you? Do you want these? Do you want them? Scarlett? Do you? DO. YOU. WANT. THEM?" And Scarlett burst into tears, for which I don't blame her. "Tell me what you want!" the nanny said. She almost never stood up, even when she finally released Scarlett from the McLaren and she ran off to be around her sister. At one point, though, she noticed me watching her and then she got up to interact with Scarlett. There was no abuse, but there was no love -- she seemed almost to hate this child.