Ann Martin - Mary Anne And Too Many Babies

Chapter 9.

The Gianellis were new clients of the BSC. None of us had baby-sat for them before the afternoon of Stacey's job. Kristy knew Bobby slightly because he's in Karen's class at school. That was how the Gianellis had heard about the BSC. But basically they were uncharted territory. You know, a new experience.

Uncharted territories and new experiences make me nervous, but Stacey enjoys a good challenge. She was looking forward to her job at the Gianellis'. She adores meeting people, especially kids.

Stacey walked straight to the Gianellis' house after school. She ran up their front steps, stuck her finger out to ring the bell, and realized there was a piece of tape over it. (Over the bell, that is. Not over her finger.) To the left of the bell was a small sign that read, CHILD SLEEPING, PLEASE KNOCK.

Stacey knocked lightly on the door, and it was opened by this tall guy with a mustache. "Hi, I'm Mr. Gianelli," he whispered.

"I'm Stacey McGill," Stacey replied.

Mr. Gianelli ushered Stace inside, quietly explaining that Mrs. Gianelli was at work, Al-icia was napping, and Bobby had not yet come home from school. "He takes the bus," said Mr. Gianelli in explanation. Then he noticed

Stacey's mixing bowl. "What's that?" he asked.

Stacey began to tell him about Mrs. Boy den and Modern Living, but Mr. Gianelli interrupted her. "Ah, the egg project," he said. "I know it well. I used to be a teacher. Good luck."

He gave Stacey some instructions, showed her where important things (like the first-aid kit) were kept, handed her a list of emergency phone numbers, then left to go to a meeting in Stamford.

Stacey sat at the kitchen table and waited for Bobby to come home or for Alicia to wake up. While she waited, she talked to her own Bobby, the one in the plastic mixing bowl.

"Pretend I'm feeding you," she said wearily to the egg. "By the way, you're going over to your father's house tonight instead of tomorrow. I can't take care of you tonight. I'm way behind in everything, thanks to — "

"Are you the baby-sitter?" asked a sleepy voice.

Stacey snapped her head around. She hadn't heard anyone enter the kitchen. Standing a few feet away, apparently keeping her distance, was a dark-haired, dark-eyed little girl with olive skin. She looked curiously from Stacey to the mixing bowl and back to Stacey.

"Hi!" Stacey said brightly. "Yes, I'm your sitter. My name is Stacey. Stacey McGill. I guess you're Alicia."

The girl nodded. Then she held up four fingers. "I'm this many," she added.

"I bet you just had your birthday."

Alicia nodded again. "What's in the bowl?" she asked. "What are you talking to?" She stepped closer to Stacey.

Stacey grinned. "I think you'll be surprised. Want to see?"

"Okay." Alicia peered into the bowl.

Stacey pulled back the washcloths. There was Bobby.

"Aughhh!" shrieked Alicia. She burst into tears.

"What's the matter?" exclaimed Stacey.

"I don't like that thing! Why do, you have it with you?"

Stacey paused, trying to figure out what to tell Alicia. Before she had a chance to speak, the front door opened, then closed. "Bobby!" cried Alicia.

Bobby Gianelli hurtled himself into the kitchen and flung his knapsack on the floor. "I'm home!" he announced. "Hi, Alicia. Hi, baby-sitter."

Alicia was still crying. "Bobby, look in that bowl," she said, pointing.

Bobby took a look at Bobby. "Weird," he

said. He opened the refrigerator and removed a carton of milk. "Whose is it?"

"It's mine/' Stacey answered. And then she did explain about the Modern Living project. "And you'll never guess what/' she said finally.

"What?" asked Bobby. He and Alicia were seated at the table, facing Stacey. They looked at her seriously.

"His name is Bobby."

"That egg's name is Bobby?" said Bobby.

Stacey nodded. "Well, remember, I'm supposed to pretend it's my kid, not just an egg. And if he were my kid, I would have named him."

"Right," said Bobby. He set his empty glass in the sink.

"So, Bobby, what do you want to do today?" asked Stacey.

Bobby opened a cupboard and looked inside. He closed the cupboard. Then he knelt down and opened his knapsack.

"Bobby?" said Stacey again. (No answer.) "Bobby?"

"Are you talking to me?" asked Bobby. (Stacey nodded.) "Oh, sorry. I thought you were talking to your egg. What do I want to do today? I don't know. Play football, I guess, if the other kids will play. I better change into my uniform." Bobby left the kitchen. From

halfway up the stairs to the second floor he called, "Can I bring Bobby with me?"

"You are Bobby!" replied Alicia.

"I think he means this Bobby," Stacey said, tapping the mixing bowl. "I'll see!" she called back. (She was thinking, No way.)

"Oh, good. Let Bobby take that egg," said Alicia, who was sitting as far from the bowl as possible, her eyebrows knitted.

"Don't you like Bobby?" asked Stacey.

"He's my brother!" replied Alicia.

"I mean the egg. Are you afraid of Bobby the egg?"

"Yes."

"Are you afraid of all eggs?"

"No."

"Then why are you afraid of Bobby?"

"I'm not. He's my — "

"Bobby the egg!"

"I never saw an egg in bed before."

"Pretend he's a baby, not an egg."

At that moment, Bobby the boy returned to the kitchen in his football uniform, which turned out to be a sweat shirt, a pair of jeans, and a bicycle helmet. "Okay, I'm ready," he said. "Is the egg?"

"Is Bobby," Alicia corrected him.

"What?" said Bobby.

"What?" said Stacey.

"Never mind," said Alicia.

"I'm ready to play football with the egg," said Bobby.

Yikes, thought Stacey. "Bobby," she said, "I have to take care of the egg. He belongs to me. Do you understand?"

"Sort of." Bobby left then, saying he would be across the street.

"Okay, Alicia, what do you want to do?" asked Stacey.

"Walk to the brook. But not with Bobby."

Stacey sighed. Then she saw that Alicia was truly frightened, so she called Austin Bentley and asked him to come pick up Bobby early. Luckily, he was at home. Later, after he and Bobby had left, Stacey and Alicia walked down the street to the little brook. Alicia sat on a sunny rock and tossed pebbles into the water. Stacey sat in a patch of dry grass and thought. What if Bobby had been her real child and she had had no husband to call on for help? she wondered. What did you do if you were a single parent and you were at work and your child got sick and the nurse called and said he should go home from school? What if you couldn't leave your job? Or what if you were at home and something happened to you and you simply needed help?

"I bet my mom is scared sometimes," Stacey said over the phone to me that night. "I bet she wonders about the 'what ifs.' Like what

if she got a job and she was at work and I was at school and I went into a diabetic coma? Or what if something happened to Mom and no one could get in touch with my dad? I bet Mom worries a lot, Mary Anne."

"I think all parents do," I replied.

"But they probably feel a little safer if they aren't single parents."

"Mm. Maybe. Stace? Are you worried because you're the daughter of a divorced mom? And your dad doesn't live nearby? That would be okay. I used to worry more when my dad was single."

"Yeah. I worry sometimes." Stacey paused. "You know, this afternoon was kind of funny with the two Bobbies, and Alicia afraid of the egg and everything. But I decided something. I am going to wait until I'm really old before I have a human baby."

Chapter 10.

Over since we had our baby, Logan and I had spent very little time alone together. We hadn't been out — just the two of us — in ages. How many places can you easily take an infant to? I guess we could have taken Sammie to Pizza Express or the diner or the coffee shop, but it just didn't seem like a great idea. Anyway, Logan and I would have been busy feeding Sammie, holding her, and doing all those things you have to do to occupy an infant, and that would have sort of defeated the purpose.