Little Drew

I am just one of those people who has to take care of everyone.  There I said it.  I accept it, and I'm not ashamed. 

I started baby-sitting at a very young age mostly because my little brother is seven years younger than me, and I learned very quickly how to take care of a baby.  By the age of thirteen I was baby-sitting for multiple families, and to the glorious point when your have more than one job and can say no to the family with the stinky children.  

But there is a magical moment in every babysitters career, when you meet your regulars.  For me it was in high school, I was fifteen, and met them at my little brother's baseball game.  

From the first time I baby-sat for the Smith's I knew that they would be my regulars.  I played with them got them to bed on time, and had the house put back together before the parents got home, and complimented me profusely, boosting my fifteen year old ego.  

 I baby-sat for the Smith's every couple weeks all through high school, and became quite attached.  I found that I would look forward to seeing them, and they would look forward to me baby-sitting as well.  I saw a turning point suddenly when I realized that I was the only babysitter that the Smith's would allow.  The youngest child, Drew, would have a meltdown around anyone else.  I had been around the Smith's so much that I hadn't noticed how the way I talked to Drew hadn't changed in the four years I had been babysitting for them.  I assumed that the way he would go from being fine, to inconsolable at the snap of your fingers.  I didn't notice until I baby-sat another little girl that was the same age as Drew, and halfway through our game of veggie tales and fairies go to the candy store it hit me that this little girl was speaking in full elaborate sentences far beyond Drew's vocabulary.  

This is exactly at this moment that the awkwardness of being a babysitter sets in.  You are attached to these kids, and they are attached to you, but you are an employed caretaker. You are not a parent, and have no authority in the way that they are to be raised.  So what do you do when you realize that there is something wrong with a child you are babysitting?   Especially when you suspect something as life changing as autism.  

I did some research.  I did a lot of thinking.  I decided that I couldn't let it go, and I had to have a talk with Mr. and Mrs. Smith.  I was nervous when I arrived at the house that day.  But to my relief, Mrs. Smith ushered me in and told me where they would be going as usual and then broke the news about Drew.

She had been taking him to a speech therapist, who told Mrs. Smith that Drew had no issues speaking, he had issues communicating, because he was autistic.

While I was relieved that I didn't have to say it myself. The whole situation left me thinking. As a babysitter you are invited into someone's home to take care of their children. They trust you to keep their children safe, until they return. But does it go beyond that? Is it my place as a babysitter to alert the parents of sensitive health issues I recognize? Or inappropriate behavior the kids have exhibited?  Or do we just stay out of it and make sure they get to bed on time