So I had 4 year old Kegan, with Autism, 2 year old Venice, with Attitude, and newborn baby Charles, with Lungs Of Steel (and amazing hair).
I loved it.
At the time that I began working for this family, I was empty nesting HARD. Two of my boys had flown the coop; one to Arizona to attend art school and the other to the Marines, to potentially kick ass and take names. I still had Brennan at home, but he was so unused to being an only child that he spent almost every waking minute at his friend's houses, because he was "lonely." (Poor baby. Poor, poor baby. Also? Mommy's fridge wasn't stocked with beer and as it turns out, his friend's houses fridge's WERE.)
I also knew that I only had one more year with Brennan home, because he was also joining the Marines after graduation.
It was an incredibly difficult year for me.
Or it would have been, if I hadn't been chronically entertained by the little miniature people with whom I spent my day.
I refer to my time as a nanny as The Venice Years.
Venice was (and is) one of the most creative and interesting little girls you could ever hope to meet. She's precocious without being obnoxious, bossy without being bratty, silly without being annoying... I adore that child.
One of my favorite stories in The Venice Chronicles is the one I wrote called Grilled Cheese or Dog Poop?
(No children or dogs were harmed in the events leading up to the writing of this blog.)
(Also? Upon reading this, you're probably going to wonder at the sanity of her parents, who left me in charge of these children. They're as bad as I am, so it all evened out. Though I do take all the credit for how fabulously their kids turned out. They may disagree, but the proof is in the pudding: I have fabulous children, THEY have fabulous children.... What's the common denominator?? ME!!! BOOO-YAHHHH, Wendy!!)
I miss you so much, Miss Sassy Pants!!
Grilled cheese or dog poop? A Tale of Venice
|I want dog poop.|