The Nanny Diaries by Emma McLaughlin, Nicola Kraus Page B

Grayer, despite his desperate pleadings from the stroller,

    because "it would just confusehim."Andthenhe cries. Sometimes shecalls just totalk toGrayer. Then
    I pushthestrollerashelistens earnestlytothecellphone,asif hewere getting astockreport.
    Wednesdayafternoon:
    Ring. ". . . theimpactonthecerebellum . . ." Ring. ". . . canbechartedherein . . ." Ring.
    "Hello?" I whisper,crouchingdownwith myheadbeneaththedesk.
    "Nanny?"

    "Yes?"
    "It's Mrs. X."
    "Um, yeah,I'm inclass."
    "Oh! Oh. Well, the thing is, Nanny, the paper hand towels you picked out for the guest bathroom aren't therightshadeof toile . . ."
    Nanny,
    I. l be coming by at three with the car to pick up Grayer for his portrait. Please bathe him, brush his teeth, and dress him in the outfit I. e lefton the bed, but be carefulnot to let him wrinkle it. Give yourself enough time to get him ready, but not so much that he has a chance to get messy. Maybeyoushouldstartat1:30.
    Also, here are some handouts from last night. Parents League meeting:. ommy, Are You Listening? ?Communication and Your Preschooler.? I. e highlighted applicable passages ?let. discuss!
    After theportrait we. lbegoingtoTiffany. topick out agift forGrayer. father.
    One would think that the customer service mezzanine at Tiffany's would have enough chairs to accommodate all of us, their adoring public. However, soft lighting and fresh flowers do little to offset thefactthatit's morecrowdedinherethanJFKonChristmas Eve.
    "O, you're making marks on the wall with your sneakers. Stop it," I say. We've been waiting for Mrs. X's name to be called so she can get the gold watch engraved that she'll be presenting to Mr. \ at the party. It's beenover half anhourandGrayer isreally startingtogetantsy.
    She grabbed a seat when we came in, but suggested that I "keep an eye on Grayer," who, she insisted, should remain "where he'll be more comfortable". n the lounge chair that is his stroller. I tried standing against the wall for a while, but as soon as the blonde with the Fendi handbag plopped herself onthefloortostudyherTownandCountryI slid down.
    Mrs. X has beenperma-attached to her cell phone, soI'm keepingthe aforementionedeye, and hand, on Grayer. The very same Grayer who has taken to using his saddle shoes to push off from the cream paisley wallpaperinordertoseehowfarbackhecanrollbeforehittingsomeone. "Nanny,letgooo."
    "Grover, I've asked you three times to stop. Hey, let's play I Spy. I spy something green? I spy cheek implants.
    He struggles to reach down to where myhand is now serving as a brake on the right stroller wheel. His face is getting red and I can see he is nearly ready to explode. She took him to pose for portraits after school let out and we've been stuck running errands for the party ever since. After being in school all morning,frozeninsmiles
    all afternoon,andthenliterally strappedin,hecan't beblamedforhitting his limit.
    "Come on, this oneis hard. I spysomethinggreen. Betchacan't findit." I tightenmygrip on thestroller wheel as he hurls himself over the front bar, then gets snapped back by the straps, his resolve to free himself hardening. People standing near us shuffle away as much as the crowd will allow. I keep a smile on my face as my fingers get pinched into the carpet. Starting to feel a little like James Bond holding the ticking bomb, I assess potential escape routes to a less public venue for his impending tantrum. Five . . . four . . . three . . . two?
    "I. WANT. TO. GET. OUT!" Hethrustshimself forward toemphasize eachword.
    "XI Mrs. X, we'll see you now at desk eight."A girl my age (with whom, at this moment, I would trade positions inan absoluteheartbeat)motionsforMrs. Xto followher tothelongrow of mahoganydesks aroundthecorner.
    "LETGO. I wanttoget out!I don't wanttoplay! I don't wantthestroller!"
    Mrs. X pauses as she rounds the corner to place her right handover the speaker of her cell. She turns to me, beaming, and whispers as she points to Grayer. "Emoting. He's emoting to