Misadventures in Babysitting

For suburbs, who's going to see Mary Poppins on Broadway tomorrow. Hopefully she'll love it as much as I did. I wish this first chapter weren't so... blah. Still, I guess it's better than writing nothing at all.

"a piecrust promise--easily made, easily broken"

-- Mary Poppins

Most parents with three teen-age sons would never need to hire a babysitter. Older brothers are automatically signed up for the job. I'm serious. It doesn't matter if the aforementioned older child spent weeks saving for the big game or if he finally asked that hot cheerleader to the movies, someone's got to watch the baby bro. And that someone is him.

But when those three teen-age boys are members of JONAS, tween rock sensation, things change a bit. Photo shoots and sound checks are essentially a get-out-of-jail free card and the babysitting is, alas, left to someone else.

It's not to say that the Lucas brothers aren't close to their little brother. They only forgot they were playing hide-and-seek with him that one time (alright, that's a lie; they've forgotten more times than you can list, but who's counting, really?). Sure, there was that day Joe left for school and locked up the house, with Frankie still inside. But Big Rob came by soon enough to let him out. True, Kevin still hasn't come to one of Frankie's little league games, but he will… eventually. Frankie doesn't like to remind him because Kevin's face gets all pink and wrinkly and you can tell he feels really bad. Poor guy. And, sure, Nick hasn't made good on his promise to help with homework. But Frankie understands. His brothers are busy. And he's cool with that.

Besides, Frankie likes being independent. It's easier that way.

You can see why when Frankie's parents decide he needs a nanny, someone who'll make sure he's cared for when everyone else forgets, it doesn't go over very well. Let's look in, shall we?

"Mom, you can't be serious!"

"I'm very serious, Frankie."

"Nannies are for babies. Babysitters are for babies—that's why the 'baby' part's at the beginning of the word. I guess you didn't notice, but I'm not a baby."

"Don't talk to your mother like that, Frankie." His dad eyed him carefully while pouring more coffee into an over-sized mug. "We made this decision together and it's the right one. You shouldn't be alone as much as you are."

Frankie crossed his arms over his chest. "The other boys never had a sitter."

"That was different. Your mom didn't work back then, and they had each other. If you get stuck in a drain pipe there won't be anyone here to call the plumber to get you out."

Kevin walked into the kitchen and grabbed the Corn Pops from the counter. "Are we telling embarrassing Joe stories again? Did I miss the one with the cat and the bazooka? That just never gets old."

.

"choosing a nanny for children is an important and delicate task. it requires insight, balanced judgment, and an ability to read character."

--Mr. Banks (full-time businessman, part-time father)

Frankie felt the urge to pound his head into the table, but he refrained. Despite great protest, his mom made him tag along as she interviewed potential sitters. They sat at tables outside of Starbucks, since it was considered a 'neutral location.' See, if word got out that the family behind JONAS needed domestic help, there'd be no controlling the crazy clothes-shredding fans from coming out of the woodwork.

Big Rob sat nearby, using his laptop (and a special hack into the FBI's criminal database) to run background checks on the candidates. He signaled Mrs. Lucas when anything fishy came up. Like the old, chubby-cheeked woman who turned out to be a recovering crack addict. And that creepy Mickey Rourke lookalike who had a DUI last month.

"So, what do you think so far?"

Frankie looked up at his mom. "They're all nut-jobs."

She sighed. "I'm sure they're nice once you get to know them. Or at least some of them are." That last one had scared her a bit. What was with the Hitler mustache? She hoped to never know.

Frankie didn't say anything, but slurped up what was left of his organic chocolate milk.

Mrs. Lucas frowned and Frankie could see lines forming around her jaw. "Somehow I envisioned this process going a little more smoothly. A little more "spoonful of sugar," you know?"

Frankie thought she wanted him to pass the sugar packets, but when he did she just laughed.

"That's not what I meant, son. Don't you remember Mary Poppins?"

"Uh—the movie? A little." What was she getting at?

"I was hoping we'd find someone like that. Someone you could have fun with. Someone who'd help you out of this 'independent' phase that's making you grow up too fast."

Frankie didn't say anything. Clearly his mom was crazy. At least now he knew where Kevin got all his optimistic delusions from. "I tell you what, mom," he said finally. "If Mary Poppins shows up for an interview you won't hear a peep of complaint from me."

.

"it's her. it's the person. she's answered our advertisement.

rosy cheeks and everything."

--Jane and Michael Banks

Twenty minutes later, Frankie was playing on the jungle gym. Alright, he was watching other kids play on the jungle gym. Same thing.

Mrs. Lucas sent him to the park across the street to "have a little fun" while she dealt with the rest of the nightmare nannies. If he squinted he could see her sipping coffee with Big Rob typing a few tables away.

Frankie kicked sand up with his shoe, watching as gravity brought the yellow granules back to the ground. He was trying to decide if the sand was more of a beige or a yellow when the sun shone behind him and cast a shadow: the perfectly defined silhouette of a girl with a strange hat.

Frankie looked up.

"Hi."

He stared at her but didn't say anything. She was older than him. Probably his brother's age. She looked like she'd been running--her cheeks were flushed and her dark eyes twinkled a little. If he were older he might think she was pretty.

"You know the park isn't much fun if all you do is stare into space."

She sat down beside him, leaning her things against the log.

He hadn't planned on replying to her less-than-subtle attempt at conversation but he noticed something that made him do a double take.

"Where'd you get that?"

"This?" she asked, lifting up her umbrella. "My mom owns a second-hand store. I found it in the donation box and kept it. You never know when it'll rain."

She smiled at him but all he could do was frown. If there was one thing he remembered about Mary Poppins it was her parrot-handled umbrella that talked when no one else was looking.

"Does it talk to you?" It was a stupid question, he knew. But it came out before he could help it.

She just laughed. "Where'd you get a silly idea like that?" But then she winked at him (winked!) and let him rub his finger over its beak. It seriously looked just like the one from the movie.

"Do you come here a lot" he asked, surveying the grass ahead of them.

"To the park? Sometimes. I play football here on Tuesdays and softball every other Saturday."

"You play sports?"

"Oh definitely. All kinds."

"Ever been to a little league game?"

"Only every year of my life. I played when I was your age. Sometimes I go to make sure the next gen is keeping in line." And there she was winking at him again! He almost suggested she have a doctor check out her eye problem but he didn't. He was starting to like her. A little bit anyway.

"I'm Frankie," he said, extending a hand.

She put her own hand out and shook it. "Pleasure to meet you, Frankie. I'm Macy."

"Like Mary with a c?"

"Uh-- I guess."

Frankie smiled. He was a very grown-up eight year-old. But even the wisest eight year-old has a hard time believing in coincidences. Or maybe he just inherited more of his mother's optimistic delusions than he'd like to admit.

"Mary, I'm going to need you to come meet my mom. You haven't had any recent issues with the FBI, have you?"

(hopefully, to be continued)