Nanny 911

Picture the scene: two parents, a mother sitting in the dining room at the table, a father in the kitchen. Dinnertime is about to start. The mother is attempting to nurse a baby.

Mother: [over baby's head] Selah? Have you finished picking up the toys?

A cat speeds down the hallway, followed by a seemingly sweet four-year-old girl, who is wearing a shirt and a pair of underwear around her knees. The child waddles, as the panties are restricting her movements. She throws a pair of shorts at the cat, as hard as she can. Panicked, the animal [which has already been deemed off-limits for the day] runs. The child waddles away, back down the hallway.

Mother: HEY! Get back here!

The smiling child returns, but when it is clear that Mother has discipline on her mind, appears wary.

Mother: Give me your hand. I am going to swat it because you hurt Mr. Darcy.

Child: NO! NO! [She makes to run off, knowing Mother is trapped with the baby.]

Mother: Honey, would you do it? I can't reach her.

Father: I don't want to do this, but you can't hurt the cat. [reaches over and swats child's hand]

Child: EARGH! [She charges at Father, clearly going to attack him. She kicks her toe on a toy schoolhouse, which, surprisingly, lies on the kitchen floor.] AAAAAAA! MY TOE! MY TOE!

The baby, finished with its meal, looks surprised, then smiles and wiggles.

Father: [Struggling to contain emotions: amusement? horror? It is difficult to tell] Selah, are you going to need to go to your room?

Child, still weeping from traumatic toe injury, hobbles quickly away, perhaps to her bedroom. Father and Mother look at each other.

Mother: That was like something out of the Jerry Springer Show!

Father: Or more like that nanny one.