Guest Column - Lost in Yonkers

Sunday, June 29, 2008
Guest Column by Eileen

In 2001, I moved from Wisconsin, to Scarsdale to NY To work for a very wealthy family. The family had two boys. The boys were 4 & 1. I was 20 years old. I had just graduated from junior college and was taking a hiatus from school.

My salary was to be $475 per week. I would live in a studio apartment on the third floor of the family home. I interviewed with the family by phone. They seemed nice enough. They flew me to NY to meet them. I was more than excited.

I dressed in white keds, white socks, white shorts and a pink blouse. My brown hair was in a pony tail. I was picked up at the airport by the father. His initial greeting was friendly, and then his phone started to ring. From that moment on, he communicated with me by hand signals as he spoke to someone on the phone. Grab your bag. Come this way. There. That car.

The car was an Expedition. He motioned for me to put my bags in. He didn't help. The whole way home he was on the phone talking about a merger. Endsol was creating a problem. I began to fear for Endsol. A meeting was called. He and his phone partner wondered together if Endsol would show. We won't give him a choice, my chauffeur shouted.

We pulled up to the impressive house. He put the phone down and helped me carry my bags in. Inside he screamed Benny, Benny, Benny.

Benny was a very short, very wide housekeeper. The father apologized sharing with me the fact that an unexpected problem had come up with work. I'd gathered that much already. But I nodded sympathetically. The father told me he had to tend to the problem. He assured me Benny would help me to get settled.

Then he was gone. The front door shut and there I stood in the entry way. Benny looked at me, clucked her tongue with disgust and pointed, 'your room on top, up top".

I took the first of three loads up. The studio apartment was a big living room, an enormous bathroom with a massive tub in the center of the bathroom and a bedroom off of the living room. Once you walked up that staircase you were in the studio. There was no actual door there nor was there any door on the bedroom. The bathroom had a wood slatted door that could be pulled shut but made me immediately ill at ease. No knob. No lock.

I looked around at my new digs. A large TV, stereo, game counsels, a big coffee table and two comfortable sofas in the living area. Hardwood floor. Oriental rugs. The bedroom offered a single bed and was thoroughly covered in pink and lace. I began to unpack. I hung my clothes in the bedroom closet. I took out my photographs and spread them around the area. A few in the bathroom, some on my dresser and still more in the living area.

I heard Benny yelling from the first floor. 'The babysitter, the babysitter. You come down here'.

I made my way back down the steps. I fond her in the massive, completely white kitchen. She gestured to a plate on the counter. 'I make the lunch. Mr. David tell me to make the lunch for you. I make the lunch. That's it. I no make you lunch after this. I no work for you. I work for Mr. David and Miss Sarah'.

What could I say? 'Thank you'.

Benny said, 'You eat. I go. Mr. David be home 7;30. No kids today".

I tried to take it all in. 'Thank you', I said again. I wondered where the kids were, where 'Miss Sarah' was. I sat and ate the lunch she had prepared. A very symmetrical turkey sandwich. Wheat bread, mayonnaise, sliced apples, potato chips and ice tea. Finished, I cleaned the plate and returned back upstairs. I watched TV until 9:30 feeling lost.

At 9:30, Mr. David comes home. He again apologizes. He again tells me about an unexpected problem. I am tired and nervous. I wonder if it shows? He tells me he had expected to spend a good chunk of time with me today. He tells me he wanted to show me around the house and around town. He tells me that I would really help him out if I continued to be patient with him. He tells me his wife took the kids to Buffalo and they wouldn't be returning until the day after next. I imagine that this is a scam. I imagine there are no children. No wife. Just this man. And me. I grow more nervous.

He tells me I should make myself at home. I should swim, use the car, take a walk and feel free to poke around. He tells me he is flying to Boston in the morning but will return tomorrow night at 7. He promises he will make time to show me around then.

I wonder to myself why his wife isn't here. Does he know what I am thinking? He tells me that Sarah has no patience for change. She's not good with new people. I smile politely.

The next day I am all alone. I don't feel alone. I feel as if this is some sort of test. Every motion detector looks like a hidden camera. I make breakfast. I make breakfast in a way I have never made breakfast before. I am meticulous. I walk around the kitchen with perfect postures and a smile on my face. I sit to eat my breakfast with a nap on my lap. I dab my face with my napkin after each carefully chewed bite.

Growing bored, I decide to take a spin in the car. I have no intention of going far. The neighborhood as we came in appeared small. I dress up and head out to explore.

I cruise out of the driveway. This is a breeze. This feels right. I turn the CD player on and Bruce Springstein begans to croon. I start to feel really good. I'm in control. I'm a New Yorker. I'm powerful.

I make mostly right turns and drive by the house twice. My house, I think to myself. The sun is beaming through the sun roof warming my head. I press on. Right. Right. Right. Left. Right. The road narrows a bit. The houses grow closer together. Did I go to far? I look for a place to turn around. But where? A still busier street looms ahead. With nowhere to turn, I had straight down the hill. I encounter a road called Central. A car pulls quickly to the right of me. He is turning right leaving me with the option to turn left. And so I do.

There are cars everywhere. Service stations. Strip malls. Stores I've never heard of and foreigners every where. Wisconsin seems awfully far from here. There is too much activity on my right side. Still more on my left side. In my hesitation to turn around, I end up pressing on.

I reach up and snap shut the sunroof. I fear it is illuminating my panic. I turn the radio off. My nerves are crackling. I keep driving. I have let go of the idea that I will do anything to regain control of this ride. The idea of turning either left or right overwhelms me. I press on. In my head, I feel as if something magical is about to present itself and set me on the correct course. Nothing happens. I am still driving. Am I still in Scarsdale?

Now there are too many stores, too many people and still more lanes of traffic. I must turn back now. My heart is palpitating. So many, many cars. So many, many people. I hastily get in to the left turn lane. I pull out the car length and a half to wait my turn. The light turns yellow. And then? And then red. No arrow. No pregnant pause. The cars race at me from the left and the right. I try to back up. I can't. Cars are beeping. The light changes again. I race forward. Nope. No light. Nothing. Traffic is heavy. There are no breaks. Beeping all around. I wait for a chance to turn. And then the light is green again. More beeping. Now screaming. I am in the middle of the intersection. Cars in both directions are swerving around me. No one stops. I feel like I am a bout to pass out. I burst in to tears.

Lights pull up behind me. A quick conversation with a police officer that reeked of beef jerky. Now he stands in front of me. He stops traffic and directs me to pull over. I do. He pulls behind me. He asks for my licence. Nice enough guy. I notice he happens to be a Yonkers police officer. I am still crying. He offers to lead me back the correct way. I follow him to what had to be the end of Yonkers and continue back on Central. I heed his directions. In 12 minutes I am back in the garage. Breathing deeply. Sighing with relief.

Once inside, I stay in my room for the rest of the day. Reading magazines. Watching television. Doodling. From downstairs, I hear the father call for me. He asks me to come down to the kitchen. I am in the kitchen now. He is apologizing again. Yes, I know. You had something unforeseeable come up at work.

HE asks me if I've eaten. I lie and say yes.
'What' he asks.
'Breakfast', I say.
He smiles and shakes his head, 'you'll eat a steak? I bought steaks'.

I smile politely. 'Thank you. yes'. He fries a steak in one pan, frozen hashbrowns in another. All the while he talks about the details of the nanny position. The impending renovation, school clothes, the upcoming school year, David's lobster allergy, Michael's musical talent, Sarah's intolerance for chaos and new people.

He is almost funny. And I find myself laughing. He gives me a tour of the house complete with the sump pump in the basement and instructions on what to do if there is a power outage. He shows me the children's bedroom, gestures to his room, the guest room, the alarm system, the closet with the linens and then he points deliberately at closed door, 'That', he says 'is Sarah's private area'.

I don't ask many questions. The tour concludes at the bottom of the steps where Benny had met me the first day. He says good night. I thank him. He starts to walk away, I ask, 'and when will the children be home tomorrow'. He laughs and says, 'Don't worry. They will find you'.

The next day I am bored. So bored I fall asleep on one of the sofas. I am awoken by footsteps on the wooden stairs heading up to mu studio. A thick haired, freckled boy bounds over the sofa landing in a prone position. Another boy appears next to me, immediately flips on the play station and sits down on the rug. I turn on the charm. I dial up my enthusiasm. I ask them about their trip, their drive, their summer.

Michael picks up one o my delicately framed photographs and asks, 'Who's so ugly'? as he tosses the picture to his brother. David responds by grunting, 'oh she is so gross' and throws the frame at the sofa I am sitting on. I frown, 'That's my sister'.

Michael responds, 'She needs a new face'.
'And better teeth' adds David.
'That's not nice', I correct. They are 6 & 9 but I am so upset by this I almost burst in to tears.
'Where's your mom', I ask.
'Take us swimming', David, the older child responds.
"Sure I guess I could do that. Let me check with your mother first'.
"Sure I guess I could do that. Let me check with your mother first'. Michael repeats holding his nose up to indicate that I resemble a pig.
David has leaped up and run to the bathroom. The door is partially open. I hear peeing. Michael gets up and heads that way. 'Shut the door, shithead', he tells his brother. I can hear peeing. 'Do you want to see David's penis?' Michael asks.
'I do not'. I respond tersely.
He laughs and shoots down the steps calling out, 'be fast. I'm hot'.
David exits the bathroom. I hadn't heard water running. I hadn't heard the toilet flush. As soon as David heads down the stairs, I grab a suit. I go to bathroom to dress and see urine all over the toilet. I mop it up with toilet paper.
I tread down the stairs in my Sears very modest 2 piece bathing suit. Sarah is walking from downstairs and meets me on the second floor landing. She looks me up from head to toe and says, 'Well I hope you're going swimming.'

'Yes, Michael and David asked..' I began an explanation but she cuts me off. She raises her hand in the air.

'Just keep it down. I have a migraine'. she says.
'Certainly'. I say.
She moves to walk away from me and I call out, 'nice to meet you'.
She covers her ears dramatically and raises a finger to her lips, 'shhhhh'.

I had arrived on Tuesday. It was now Thursday. I would last through to the following Thursday.
I would leave by cab as soon as the house went quiet. I had my bags packed and ready since Wednesday, just waiting to seize the opportunity. The kids were atrocious, ugly, obnoxious and not at all as bright as their parents thought they were. The father was a workaholic who no doubt conditioned himself to spend so much time away as to avoid his needy, demented wife. His wife was antagonistic. insecure, accusatory and distrustful. She had flipped out when she found out that her husband and I had dinner together that night. It was a dramatic fight, a screaming match in front of both children and myself.

The nanny agency offered to find me another position. I was not interested. I waited for 8 hours at the airport to get a flight back home. I wish I would have had a chance to see New York, but I don't for a second regret that I didn't make it as a nanny.


Anonymous said...

Crazy story!
I am confused though. Did they lie about the ages of their kids? You say they were 4 & 1 but turned out to be 7 &9? Kind of a big oversight!

Anonymous said...

This whole thing sounded made up to me, but the mysterious change in ages of the children cinched it for me.

Anonymous said...

Who knows, maybe the parents lied about their ages?
Doesn't matter, it was a GREAT read! LOL

Anonymous said...

I thought it was phony the second she described the outfit she wore on that particular 2001.
Great writing skills, though. If you can't make it as a nanny, you'd be a great writer.

Anonymous said...

"Real life is even stranger than fiction"...don't know who said that, but the longer I live, the more true I find it to be.

Glad you made it out alive, Eileen, and thanks for sharing!

Anonymous said...

I don't believe this one either. It sounded like a creative writing experiment. Well written though. I hope you got a good mark!

UmassSlytherin said...

I love this story. :) :) :)

I love your expressions! May I please puuh-leeze borrow "Dialed up my enthusiasm?" It's soooo awesome!!!!!!!! Ima steal it, K?

Well done, author!!! A+ :)

Anonymous said...

Sounds like a bunch of BS. You basically quit because the mother had a migraine and the kid peed on the floor? And, what does the part about you getting lost while driving around have to do with anything? That's not their fault.

UmassSlytherin said...

I believe your story, OP. :) I would have been flipping out driving too. I thought it was a nice added bit of panic to the overall feeling in your story.

One thing, though. I was just curious. Was the dad hawt?

Or nawt?

Anonymous said...

11:44, did you READ this story? Who brings a nanny across the entire country to a home with no kids for two and a half days, to a rude, demanding, insulting family and a bedroom with no lock on the door?

Anyway, this sounds crazy. At first I thought "this can't be real," but I guess the stories you see in movies have to come from somewhere! I'm glad you got yourself out of there.

seattlenanny said...

I was hired by a rich family on the East coast when I was 18. At the very last moment it fell through. I'm so thankful it never worked out. My luck I would have ended up in the same situation as you. What a nightmare!

Neil Simon said...

I think it's a miserably funny take on a nannies experiences.
I loved it! Excellent writing .... and, why CAN'T it be true?
Besides, it's a play on words, which I think make it even more clever.

Some of you people must think we live in such a perfect world.

Great job, OP.
I absolutely believe something like this could happen. You've no idea some of the crap I've been through.
This ain't such a far cry .....

Ashley said...

I was a nanny in Westchester for 10years, two families the first 6 months and one famliy for 9 1/2 years. I believe every word of her story. I would need my own blog for the stories I could tell.

A Great Read said...

This was a very interesting story! I don't really care if it's real or not. It's an expression of what could happen and it's very captivating. My favorite was when you were trying to make a left turn because I feel like that is soemthing that could have happened to me. Oh, and if this story was real, OF COURSE you would quit. Anon at 11:44 is an idiot for thinking you wouldn't.

chick said...

Whether you've written fiction (and I think you did) or fact, you wrote it very well. Well told story!

Anonymous said...

Absolutely agree with this. had my own when I first moved here in Scarsdale. The 'light housekeeping' descibed in the interview was 7 bathrooms meant to be cleaned daily with straight ammonia and ajax, and three horrible, monster kids who sat on the kitchen table bare-assed the first morning I was there and a father who didn't come home for his own birthday with his family...cried every day was interviewing for jobs the first weekend and gone 1 month later.

Anonymous said...

This experience was written with great care. Absolutely funny. You know maybe the Dad didn't know how old his kids are LOL WOuld not be the first time. He sounded like he was oly into his business. SHe didn't leave because the mother had a migraine. SHe let because the kids were rude little brats, the mother "didn't like change" and didn't have to the time to even introduce herself and threw a fit infront of everyone because he had steak with the nanny. SOunds like the house from hell to me. This was a young girl on her first nanny job and she figured it out in s ahort time that it was not for her. She sounds educated therefore her great writing skills.
Smart girl she bailed before it got worse.

Anonymous said...

I thought that was very really written

Anonymous said...

I loved it! You're a good writer!

Anonymous said...

Something tells me that that story was a fake...

But if it was real, I'm terribly sorry that you had to endure such a family. Try being a writer! You have the right way of writing!


Sarah and Mitch said...

Wait, the 4 and 1-year olds had such language skills and were potty trained enough to know when to pee all over the toilet?

Sounds like a made up or really embellished story to me.

Either way, besides some funky details, it's a good read but I don't think very realistic at all.

Anonymous said...

I'm sorry, I'm not following your 1st paragraph, but there was a discrepancy in the ages to begin with. Nanny said they ended up being 6 & 9.

LDF said...

Now that I look back on the story I agree, you can't make this stuff up. Truth is stranger than fiction!

Jennifer said...

Nice story!

Anonymous said...

Really, how do you live? It kind of sounds like life is just too much for you to handle.

Anonymous said...

Too bad so many have debunked this story, rather than just comment about the experiences this nanny went through.

I thought it was a pretty great read, and I believe it. There are some really pretentious people out there, and I remember one dad -- when he came home from work, had to have a mixed drink ..... ALWAYS with ONE and a HALF ice cubes, which meant breaking one of those slippery suckers in half, and not breaking it.
Ugh, makes me want to pull my hair out thinking about him, and others like him that I worked for.

Anonymous said...

Ashley, I'd love to hear some of your stories...pretty please...

Anonymous said...

Doubt this is 100% true (after all, the drive from the "estate area" of Scarsdale to Cenrtal Avenue is pretty far and you'd have to cross through the village's quiet "downtown" area--a logical place to stop and look around--before you get there), but good read. And good description of what it's like to drive on Central Ave. LOL.

Hellcat said...

I duno why people are commending OPs writing skills if it IS fiction. If it were a creative writing project I'd expect it to have not ended so abruptly. Tension builds.. then BAM it's over?
I'm inclined to think it was real. It was hardly juicy enough tobe fake.

Anonymous said...

you couldn't write your way out of a paper bag.
You add nothing to this blog, in my opinion. It's pathetic that you are insulting the people who do.

Anonymous said...

Yeah, Hellcat has been kind of a hard ass lately, but makes a good point @ 1:20.

Anonymous said...

I don't think hellcat is a hardass. I just think she's an ass.

Anonymous said...

Now, now -- let's behave! lol

Anonymous said...

What a waste of my reading time!

Anonymous said...

o.k. - So ... you thought you'd waste even more time writing out that comment? LMAO

Hellcat said...

Wow, losers.
I wasn't attacking anyone. I merely stated that I believe if it were made up it would have been way more drawn out and interesting.
Try writing a book with a big build up and no climax with an abrupt ending and see if anyone tells you it's a literary masterpiece.
The grammar and all that was swell, sure.

Anonymous said...

There are legions of nannies available in the NYC area. When, despite this, a family goes to the trouble and expense of importing a nanny from the mid west, that probably means they want someone who has no family or friends nearby. Someone who can't quit and leave so easily. . A big red flag nannies!

Anonymous said...

Don't worry Hellcat.."the regulars and anon regulars as well are out for blood this week.
Afterall.."when the cats away the mice will play"

Take ten and look at all the posts this week..they are attacking everybody with even the slightest difference of opinions.
It is no longer an interesting read but turning quickly into a clique.
They need to post a sign:
"we reserve the right to refuse entry to anyone with an open mind or anyone thinking outside of the box"-

Anonymous said...

I haven't seen any attacks this week at all. Those that have been through the blog wars know what attacks are.
These posts are simply a difference of opinion, with a sprinkle of name-calling.
Buck up little soldier!

Anonymous said...

Can I ask a question?
What are "anon regulars", and how do you know they're ... regulars?

Anonymous said...

820 YOU my dear are an "anon Regular" and you give yourself away with your writing style as well as your antogonistic questions.

Anonymous said...

Actually, it was an honest question. I don't think I would consider myself an anon regular, but was just wondering why they and the regulars were getting dumped on. I'm trying to be serious.
You don't have to be nasty. I mean, isn't that your point?

Anonymous said...

Look can back peddle now if you want. That is fine. But you know who you are!

Anonymous said...

Its crazy how so MANY preschoolers can get onto isawyournanny and post on the blogs.

Honestly, all I remember learning at that age was not to call names, to wait my turn, and be nice.

Now they teach computers.


cali mom said...

One "anon regular" is the one who pops up regularly to cry that every time she posts she gets attacked and ganged up on by the "regulars" and this place is too cliquey and she thinks it's just a bunch of sheep moving in a herd.

UmassSlytherin said...

I think we should all have names and never be anon. I think we should all, right now, say our favorite b-list celebrity.



Anonymous said... sure have turned bitter lately. When I first came across this blog and you and a few others I really enjoyed reading what you had to say but not anymore. I hope that all is well for you and your son and family. You act like someone who has had something bad happen or who is angry about something and maybe this is where you are trying to let it out? Goodluck with that. I sure would like to see the old Calimom come back!Maybe find her sense of humor.

Anonymous said...


Anonymous said...

calimom, I am not crying about being attacked. Maybe instead of being nasty you could just once agree to your mind up abit and understand that not everyone is like you or thinks like you? Could you try that ?

cali mom said...

9:08, um...okay. But don't bogart now, pass it on down!

cali mom said...

9:12, baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Anonymous said...

Let's play nice everyone.

UmassSlytherin said...

no, 9:09. you're not playing right. calimom is NOT a b-list celeb. (sorry cali mom, I like you but you're not.) I mean like, freddy prince jr. or the guy from even stevens who is in the new indiana jones movie.

play the right way, k?

Anonymous said...

Oh my gosh--this is about as petty as petty gets. To the person who wrote that it sounds like these posts are being made by preschoolers, you're right--I had to laugh out loud because that's what it sounds like.

Now, to change the topic a bit--assuming the OP was relaying a real experience, why do we think the kids are so bratty? Is it because they have a rotation of nannies that never allows them to attach to any of them? Is it because mom is neurotic? Or because dad is preoccupied? I just wonder what type of adults these kids will grow up to be. So, sad.

Persnickety Ticker said...

While this story was well written, it did end a bit too quickly. It may have been based on facts, but parts of it did seem embellished for dramatic effect. I would definitely advise this writer to continue with writing as a possible career instead of childcare. Find other experiences and write about them! You will go far!

MissDee said...

Hmmmm....I would say that this is possible fiction, possible fact. I wonder what happened after the OP left? How did that family feel knowing she was gone?

UmassSlytherin said...

I think the mom probably took another valium and the dad started looking for another nanny. the kids probably didn't give a flying Cornish pixie that she left, the poor little bratlettes have been through so many sitters.

I don't know why so many people are having a hard time believing this story. In real life, people are cartoons. They are. None of it seems fake to me. Of course writers embellish and dramatize to make their point: that is what good writing is.

I loved this story, personally.

Anonymous said...

The reason I don't believe it is because of the age change.

I wish OP would clear that up for us.

Anonymous said...

I would venture to guess that OP changed the actual ages in the story and perhaps as an oversight reverted back to their correct ages by accident. Nobody's perfect.

Anonymous said...

The reason I don't believe it is because of the uncanny recall of actual conversations, details, outfits and hairstyles that occurred 7 YEARS ago.......please. My hair was in a ponytail, give me a break.
But I agree with everyone who said she has great writing ability. Very entertaining.

Anonymous said...

2:00, I never thought that she might have just changed them and then forgotten.

I can believe her recall for detail. There are many conversations and events where I remember every word spoke, clothes worn, weather, background music, etc. It kind of freaks out my boyfriend, but its a handy talent.

Anonymous said...

This story makes me wonder if it would of had been a better ending if there where no kids and a (miserable) wife

Kathleen Campbell said...

It didn't occur to me that the story was made up until I read the comments. I guess it could have been, but my first thought was - good for her for leaving right away! That sounded like a nightmare.

lorenza said...

I wish I could remember all the details of my past with the clarity you all seem to expect from the OP here. When you read an autobiography and there's conversation going on in the book, do you think it just might be somewhat speculative given the length of time gone by since it initially took place?

And guess what? Sometimes our memories aren't totally accurate, but closeness counts when you are relating a life experience. I have a friend who cannot remember six whole years of her life. It makes me wonder.

the author - AKA mother flippin' goldilocks said...

Hi, a regular of this blog but read every now and then. I didn't know if or when Jane would use my story but she did.

I was hired after a phone interview. I interviewed with the agency. The agency had a family form they were working off of. I should have made many points more clear but I am not a writer. I will tell
you the agency was working off of a form the family had originally filled out for another nanny agency a few years back. It was quite a shock to see the two children bounding up the steps. Two children, one of whom was pretty much a preteen.

How much do you think you know of Scarsdale? I know what I learned during the time I was there. That is how I remembered the drive. Okay? I spent LESS than 14 days total there.

This blog has too many naysayers. Who would ever want to share a story with you? This story is too boring, this story is not well written, this story is too much. - Everyone is lying? Only the nannies know what is possible.

Anonymous said...

OP, don't worry about all the annoying comments. Who reads them anyways. It was a great story.

UmassSlytherin said...

Janet English,
I read all of the annoying comments. I read all the comments.
That being said, I too liked this story quite a bit.

Anonymous said...

Your amazingly well-written description of Scarsdale and Central just rang true to me. This is indeed a strange place.
I am sorry for your bad experience. Please do not mind the nasty comments - some people obviously have nothing better to do. I hope you write again

UmassSlytherin said...

They're just jealous! I loved your story.

Anonymous said...

Don't be discouraged. I thoroughly enjoyed your writing, and your story was amazing!
I hope we get to see more of you.

The naysayers can go to Narnia, where they belong.

UmassSlytherin said...

Narnia? I take offense to that comment. Narnia is for naysayers? I don't think so. Narnia is an amazing magical kingdom. It is quite spectacular, from what I have read about it.

Sorry. I could not let that one slide.

Anonymous said...

I so KNEW you'd have something to say about that, lmao! Funny!

mom said...

Good story. Well written. I enjoyed it.

Anonymous said...

OP I believe your story, the moms here dont because they are in denial about the brats they bring into this world. You did the absolute right thing. I hope you are okay and got a much better job.

Hair said...

I wish i was there for you and i hope you are OK and in a good job.

lizzie said...

this sounded very much like the plot to the movie 'nanny diaries'. just saying.

dad said...

This sounds nothing like the nanny diaries, but so you know dummy, dysfunctional families in nyc are a dime a dozen.

cfg said...

What the hell is your problem? Going around and calling everyone idiots and dummies? You're certainly not endearing yourself to anyone around here with your rudeness.
Just because you don't agree with someone, you have to bash them?
I have a hard time believing you're a nanny, much less a dad, with that attitude.
Who would have you?

dad said...

Who would have you?

Many have tried, but my wife is the most captivating and desirable woman in all of NY.

cfg said...

Mmmm o.k., keep telling yourself that.
The most desirable woman in NY is turned on by some obnoxious manny, and not some high-powered lawyer or dr.?
She must have really low standards.