Ann Martin: Kristy And The Walking Disaster

The Kid-Kits were my idea. I thought that a good way to entertain the kids we sit for would be with a box of fun. So we each decorated a cardboard carton and filled it with our old games, books, and toys. Then we bought some stuff like coloring books, activity books, and

crayons. We take the Kid-Kits on our sitting jobs so the kids can play with them and not be bored. We use the treasury money to replace things that get used up.

How did Dawn, Jessi, and Mal join the club? Well, Dawn joined not long after she moved here from California. She and Mary Anne had become friends quickly, our business was growing, and we needed extra help. So Dawn became our alternate officer. That meant that she could take over the duties of any other member if someone had to miss a meeting. That didn't last long, though. Unfortunately, Stacey had to move back to New York City. (This was especially unfortunate since she and Claudia had become best friends, and now they really miss each other.)

Anyway, after Stacey left, two things happened. Dawn became our new treasurer - and we realized we needed lots more help. Our club was doing a ton of business. (Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. But we did have a problem.) We'd already signed up two associate members, kids who don't come to meetings, but who are good sitters we can call on in a pinch. They are Shannon Kilbourne, who lives across the street from me in my new neighborhood - and Logan Bruno, Mary Anne's boyfriend! But they weren't enough.

We needed a regular member to replace Stacey. My friends and I thought and thought. We liked Mallory Pike, whom we already knew is good with kids, even if she is younger than the rest of us, but the problem was that her parents don't allow her to sit at night, except at her own house. Finally, we took on Mal and her friend Jessi. We figured that if they could take over a lot of our afternoon jobs, the rest of us could handle the nighttime stuff. So far, it's working just fine. Jessi and Mal are our junior officers.

There's one other thing I better tell you about - our club notebook. The notebook is different from the record book. It's a sort of journal. We're all responsible for writing up every single job we go on. Then, once a week, we're supposed to read about the jobs in the notebook. It's really helpful. We can find out if the kids we sit for are having problems the rest of us should know about, or how one of us sitters handled a sticky situation, and other important things, like if any kid has food allergies or special fears. The notebook was my idea and I know it was a good one. I also know that most of the other club members think writing in it is a big bore. Well, too bad. Writing in the book is one of our few club rules.

"Okay," I said, from the director's chair, "the treasury is in good shape. Anything else?"

"Aw, look at Tigger!" Dawn said suddenly. Tigger was sitting in one of Claudia's shoes, which was pretty cute - but 1 was trying to conduct a meeting.

"Anything besides Tigger?" I said sternly.

Five heads snapped to attention. And just then the phone rang. 1 was nearest to it, so I answered it. "Hello, Baby-sitters Club. . . Hi, Mrs. Rodowsky." (I heard Dawn groan, and 1 waved my hand at her to make her quiet down.) "Tuesday?" I repeated. "Okay, I'll get back to you . . . Yes . . . Okay, good-bye."

1 hung up. Mary Anne had opened the record book to the appointment pages. "This coming Tuesday?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Let's see. You're free, Kristy, and so are you, Dawn."

"You can have the job, Kristy," said Dawn quickly.

1 grinned wickedly. "Is Jackie too much for you?" 1 asked.

"Nooo. Not exactly. You know 1 like him. His brothers, too. It's just. . , Well, you never know what's going to happen at the Rodowskys'."

That's true. And it's all because of Jackie,

the middle of the three Rodowsky boys. Shea is nine, Archie is four, and Jackie is seven - and a walking disaster. He's just totally accident-prone. And he doesn't have little accidents like skinned knees. No, he's more apt to lock himself in the bathroom and then get his hand caught down the drain of the tub. I could understand why Dawn preferred not to sit for him.

"Schedule me for Tuesday," I told Mary Anne. Then I called Mrs. Rodowsky back to tell her that I would be sitting.

I had just hung up when the phone rang again. Then four more times. For quite awhile, all we could do was schedule jobs, although Claudia did manage to pass around the Cheese Doodles and little candy bars.

The meeting was almost over when Mary Anne suddenly said in a sort of strangled voice, "Uh, where's Tigger, you guys?"

We searched Claud's room from top to bottom. We found a bag of Doritos, a box of Mallomars, some Gummi Bears, and a package of Twinkles - but no Tigger.

Mary Anne was just beginning to get tearful when we heard someone say, "Perhaps you are looking for this."

Standing in Claud's doorway was her sister Janine, cradling Tigger. "I found him sitting

on my computer," she said. She was trying to look cross, but you could tell she wanted to smile.

Mary Anne greeted Tigger as if he'd been missing for a year or so, and then the meeting ended.

Jackie Rodowsky, 1 thought as Charlie drove me home. Would my afternoon with the walking disaster be fun ... or, well, a disaster?

Chapter 3.

"Hit it! ... Hit it! . . . No, hit - Oh, never mind," said Max Delaney crossly.

"Don't yell at me!" retorted his sister.

"Anyway, you never hit the ball," Karen accused Max.

Max stuck his tongue out at Karen, and Karen stuck hers out at Max.

It was Saturday, the day after our club meeting, and it was a gorgeous afternoon. I was baby-sitting for Karen, Andrew, and David Michael. We were in the backyard and a bunch of kids had come over to play softball ... or to try to play softball. Amanda and Max Delaney were there (Amanda is eight and Max is six), and Linny and Hannie Papadakis had come over, too. Linny is David Michael's good friend, and Hannie is one of Karen's best friends. The girls are in the same class at school.

The kids had a pretty pathetic game going. Most of them were old enough to be in Little

League or to play T-ball, but I could see why they hadn't bothered to join a team. They all worked and worked and worked - and nothing happened. I'd never seen so many kids play ball so hard with so few results.

Hannie really couldn't hit. She never connected with the ball. Max dropped or missed every ball he tried to catch. David Michael was simply a klutz. He tripped over his feet, the bat, even the ball, and no matter how he concentrated, he somehow never did anything right, except pitch. Karen wasn't a bad hitter. And Andrew might have been a good catcher if he weren't so little, but he's only four, so balls went sailing over him right and left, even when he stretched for them. Amanda and Linnie were no better than the others.

"You guys," I said to the kids, "come over here for a sec, and let me help you get organized. I'll give you some pointers, too, okay?" (I happen to like sports a lot.)

Karen, Andrew, David Michael, Hannie, Linny, Max, and Amanda dropped their gloves, bats, and the ball. They gathered around me.

"First of all," I said, "Hannie, it helps to watch the ball when you're trying to hit it. Don't look away from it, even to look at your bat."

"Yeah," said David Michael knowingly, as

if I hadn't just told him the same thing the day before.

"And Max, the trick for holding onto the ball after you catch it is to close your glove around it right away. Otherwise, the ball will fall out. And keep your eye on the ball when you're trying to catch it, just like when you're trying to hit it. Don't look at your mitt or the batter. Got it?"

The kids nodded.

Then Andrew said, "What about me? I could catch those balls if I were taller."