Just call me Super Nanny

In my last blog, I mentioned that I had begun working in a sweet shop and that I was worried about becoming a crazy, child hating, psycho bitch who was ready to pounce on any child without manners who crossed my path. Well, my friends – I have reached this stage and can now claim that I have successfully managed to make 3 whole children cry. Real tears. Tears of fear.
I will begin by telling you why it happened so that you can understand that I am not a monster. Basically, we have a little pot of loose bubblegum on the counter of the sweet shop. I know that they are colourful and shiny and look as though they are asking to be touched but I have learnt to control these urges and now I am teaching children to do the same.

Now, we’re all adults – we know where our hands have been and hopefully have the good sense to wash them but kids are different. They have only recently discovered the joy of nose picking and feel it necessary to touch everything that they come into contact with be it a rabid dog, a passing pigeon or rubbish on the street.

Whilst avoiding work I made a massive sign reading DO NOT TOUCH – it was funky, orange and cut out in a nice zig-zag pattern. Beautiful. Definitely worth the half an hours work. Needless to say – not all kids read signs and go putting their hands in there anyway. I don’t know whether I am just feeling extra-specially disgruntled because I had received no recognition for my sign but I snapped at the four year old “Read the sign – DO NOT TOUCH”. Now, in hindsight, this kid was cute and it was like for an instant everything slowed down. The child looked at me – his bottom lip started to quiver and then I saw his eyes fill with tears and then I knew the inevitable was going to happen. I made him cry. Oopsie. I felt bad. I still do but in this instance I was rewarded by the parents who informed me that I had done the right thing and that he needs discipline.

I should have learnt my lesson but the same thing happened twice more (i know i'm mean) – children are so predictable. Each time that it occurred the parents have thanked me and made me feel like I am contributing to the upbringing of the child by disciplining it. So therefore, I have concluded that I am in no way a mere sweet shop worker I am like Super Nanny or Miss Trunchbull from Matilda. Swooping in when parents eyes are turned to berate their naughty children. I am thinking of investing in a stern pair of black framed glasses and wearing my hair in a scraped back bun to confirm my status as “Amy – child whisperer”. I’ll keep you posted.