Sticky Babysitting Job

Sticky Babysitting Job

A story embellished from the true experience of a friend.

A Sticky Babysitting Job – PT Cutter

I have a babysitting story to relate. It was more years ago than I wish to discuss. At the time I had arrow-straight mid-back length (drop-dead gorgeous blonde) hair and I planned to grow it forever. Many people told me it was my best feature. I loved to brush its length and spent a fortune on hair conditioner. It was my boyfriend’s favorite plaything but that’s another story.

I was babysitting for friends of friends. I did not actually know the couple but my best friend Kim had sat for them for several years and she hadn’t said they were a problem. In fact I was sitting in for her as she had come down with quite a bad cold so she begged me to sit in. Little did I know that they had two of the most wired little girls that I’d ever met. They were 8 and 6 years old and squabbled and fought all night long. I couldn’t seem to divert them or calm them down. Then they suggested that we play beauty parlor. By then I’d try anything. Sounded like it might keep them occupied. I agreed and then they said I’d be the customer.

They combed and brushed to their hearts’ content. Then they started discussing how to cut my hair – it got a bit too real as a scissors came out of nowhere, but they seemed happy just to do a pretend perm. After a lot more brushing, up my hair went in rollers. Some discussion about the strength of their concoction and with my hair in rollers they applied what I thought was water as part of my ‘perm job’. They insisted I let it ‘set’ for the evening. With hair up, they finished out the evening as little angels – occasionally checking their handiwork. They were off to sleep after a couple hours so I went to the bathroom to take my hair down.

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It turns out the little brats had applied glue to the rollers. My hair was secured fast. I tried soap, solvents and just plain tugging but it was to no avail. The parents came home and were very apologetic and offered to help. All we could do in the end was to cut it all off. The hair at the base of each roller was slowly cut. One by one I watched the pile of rollers grow on the table in front of me. That’s when the tears started to flow. I felt I looked like a fuzz ball with about 1/2 inch long hair almost all over. I just cried and cried. The parents bought me a wig to wear and the next day made the kids come and apologize. They offered to let me cut their hair in a similar manner as a lesson but I declined. They also made their kids pay for my next two haircuts out of their allowance.

It sure ruined my prom but in the end I learned that some people only liked me for my appearance. There are others for whom looks didn’t really matter. I learned who my true friends were. My boyfriend at the time dumped me – but I found someone even better. Someone that didn’t care what my hair was like but liked me for who I am – we are still married after many years (coming up on 25).

I never let my guard down again while sitting.



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