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Babysitting Blues

Zehava Gordon

No matter how she tried to amuse them, reading in an animated way that exhausted her or singing songs that amused all her other little clients just fine, the children would alternately whine or cry for their mother, the beautiful Mrs. Feigenbaum who seemed to want as little to do with them as she could. And truth to tell who could blame her?

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

She rang the door and the housekeeper answered with a smile. Soon Mrs. Feigenbaum approached with the children, already crying, “Go away Devorah, we want Imma.” Mrs. Feigenbaum gave an apologetic smile and managed to disentangle herself from the children, with the help of the housekeeper and the unwilling Devorah.

Great start, thought Devorah, and from here it’s downhill all the way.

She quietly walked away from the children, knowing that consoling them only escalated the crying, and instead of herding them into the playroom she sat on the floor at the entrance and began to take out the seeds from her pocket. The children forgot to cry and watched what she was doing.

“That’s a mess!” shouted Menachem scowling, “that’s just a mess.”

“Oh no, it’s not,” smiled Devorah. “This is magic. Come and look closely now and you will see something if you look very carefully.”

 

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