Whether it's a full-time job or a side gig for extra cash, watching someone else's children requires some tough skin. Read what these babysitters have to say about their most nightmarish experiences looking after little ones:
Double Trouble
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“When I was 13 years old, I spent a summer babysitting the two most spoiled little devils I’ve ever had the displeasure to come across. Their names were Mary and Kristin. Their mom was an awesome lady, but she tried to overcompensate for an absent father, who was apparently quite the abusive jerk to her. Luckily, the kids had no memory of this as she was smart enough to get out of that marriage before he could do any harm to the girls.
Anyway, things were fine for the first week or so. Then one evening, I told the eldest, Kristin, that she wasn’t to have more than the three cookies before dinner that I’d already given her. Her response? To take off all of her clothing and run into the wall over and over, smashing her head into it hard enough to leave dents. As I watched her do this, I noticed similar dents all over the walls. Within five minutes, her little sister, Mary, had begun to do this, too. Well, I let them do it. I wasn’t having it. Even at 13, I had no tolerance for that.
So I sat down and read a book while they proceeded to destroy mom’s security deposit. I’m pleased to say that they were much less spoiled rotten by the time I moved on and quit watching them and have turned into proper, healthy, lovely women. But my God, I will always see those two girls as the naked, squawking little devils.”
She Never Babysat For Them Again
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“When I was 16, I babysat two little boys every day from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. for the summer. They had a single mom who was cool and let me take the boys to the beach, pool, boardwalk, whatever. One day, when I got to work, she informed me that her new boyfriend was going to stay home all day because he was sick. Not sure why I had to be there too, but I wanted the pay and figured maybe he was too sick to watch the boys. About lunchtime, I fed the boys, and we walked to the community pool. We were there for awhile and came back to the boyfriend watching TV in the living room. This being the first time meeting the boyfriend, I introduced myself and sent the boys upstairs to change/shower. As soon as the boys left the room, the boyfriend asked me to take my cover-up and bathing suit off. Being young and naive, I laughed and said something stupid like, ‘Haha what?’ Well, he became more persistent at that point. I grabbed my stuff and told him I was leaving, calling the police and the boys’ mother. Looking back, I probably should’ve taken the boys, but I was freaked out and not thinking.
I left and never looked back. The police came and talked to me but when they got to the house, the mom was there and he had left. The mom never believed me, and didn’t pay me for the week. She accused me several times of making it up to get out of work. Why she would believe that dirtball she just met over her babysitter of several months is beyond me.”
First And Last Time Babysitting These Kids
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“I used to babysit my neighbors’ kids. Actually, I babysat them for one night. That was all.
There were three of them and the mother never learned discipline either, as all three were the red-headed demon children you always hear about. I don’t remember their names now, but they were ages 6, 9 and 12. 9 was on some sort of medication for an anger problem. 6 looked up to 9 and copied him, and 12, the sister, was more mild-mannered and tolerable alone.
It started off normal. 6 and 9 are riding their bikes around the neighborhood and 12 and I are doing a puzzle. Eventually, the kids get bored, so we broke out their game of Connect Four. That went well for all of maybe five minutes. 9 lost his game to 12, so he throws the entire game set at her, and she continues to tease him, which makes 9 angrier. 9 continues to throw things around and I ask him to stop, that’s not nice. He yells, ‘SHUT UP!’ and tried to attack his sister. So 12 runs away screaming with 9 following behind, 6 decides to try and get involved but somehow trips and connects with 9’s foot as he’s running. So now I have two kids beating each other up and one with a bloody nose. I decide to leave 9 and 12 while I deal with the bloody nose. I’m holding a crying, screaming 6 over a sink with hot water running and just let him bleed there while I’m trying to stay calm and have 9 and 12 calm. I did end up screaming ‘STOP’ to the kids and they stopped.
Back to 6, who’s still crying over a bloody nose. I realize the sink isn’t draining. 9 goes, ‘Oh yeah, that sink doesn’t work.’ Okay awesome, now I’ve got blood to clean off the carpet, tile, and now a sink full of bloody water. Of course, this is when 9 decides to lose it and grabs a pocket knife from his mother’s end table and tries to stab 12 with it. I take the knife from him, so of course, he comes back from the kitchen with another knife.
Well, at least he stopped trying to stab his sister for the time being, so he resorts to stabbing all of his mother’s furniture instead. By now, I’ve called the mom at least four times, but she isn’t answering her phone. So I end up calling my stepmom, who’s retired military, because someone’s going to die and I’m starting to lose it, being 17 at the time. So, to recap, there is blood everywhere, holes in all the furniture, a psycho 9-year-old with knives. So my stepmom runs over to see exactly that. I explain to her the situation, and she ends up restraining 9 while I clean up this mess.
Finally, mom calls back and I explain the situation to her as well, and she says calmly, ‘Yeah his medication must have worn off. Just tell him he’s done nothing wrong and give him what he wants.’ Okay, maybe those aren’t the exact words, but that’s what she told me to do. Forget that. I got out of there, got paid $80, and that was my last time babysitting.”
A Fun Game Turned Fatal
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“I had a heart-stopping moment when babysitting my neighbor’s children. I must’ve been about 16, and the kids were 3, 5 and 7. We were playing the ‘hide the button’ game and the youngest had gone into the open plan dining room, slightly out of my eyesight, and clambered on top of the fireguard. The fire was not on as it was summer time, but as she grabbed the marble of the fireplace, the whole fireplace came out of the wall and crashed heavily to the floor. It was obviously not secured properly and was extremely dangerous. Now, the 3-year-old kid was crying her eyes out, and to this day, I have no idea how she came through with only a scraped knee. That thing should have killed her it was so heavy. I could not lift it back up myself, so I enlisted the help of my brother who was around the corner.
Cue shaky phone call to the parents: ‘Uh, your fireplace came off the wall and nearly crushed Holly, she’s okay but your fireplace isn’t.’
Their response? ‘Oh, we knew it wasn’t fixed on properly, it hasn’t been for 10 years, it’s on our to-do list’.
Stupid parents.”
If You Think Your Kid Is Sick, It’s Best To Not Leave Them With A Babysitter
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“I was babysitting a kid whose parents were not all that smart, and they were dirty people. You needed a shower after being in their house to wash off the smell of years of dinner and kid and dog stench. Once I found a used pregnancy test on the computer desk, pee free to drip wherever it pleased. I hated it, but they paid well.
They had left me a cell phone number in case things went south. They highlighted it and everything. They told me that the kid hadn’t been hungry all that much that day and that he would probably be fussy for dinner a little early, or maybe he was sick. Note: if your kid might be sick, don’t leave it with a babysitter. Well, I made mac n’ cheese like a good babysitter and he wouldn’t touch it. Up until bedtime, he wouldn’t touch it. And that’s when things turned ugly.
I decided to get him ready for bed. We go into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and the kid turns to face me and throws up. EVERYWHERE. All over me, all over the rug, all over the floor. I cleaned him up, tossed him in bed, wiped up the bathroom, and called my mom to bring me fresh clothes.
I tried to call the parents. I called the number they gave me a dozen times. It was a cell phone, and they were supposed to have it on. They didn’t give me the number to where they were. I left five messages, begging them to come home. Nothing. They came home later than they were supposed to, and I asked if they had received any of my calls. Nope. None. Because the number that they gave me was a work number, and I left messages on some random office phone. I told them that their rug was down by the washer and the bathroom floor was wiped, but not clean. They told me their kid may have eaten dog food earlier in the day. I went home.
I went back the next week (weekly gig), and the bathroom floor was sticky and had bugs crawling all over it. Not clean. The rug was still by the laundry, exactly as I had left it. I never went back or returned their calls. I’ve never looked back.”
“It Looked Like Some Sort Of Heinous Murder Scene”
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“Many years ago, I was babysitting for a family with six kids ages 2 to 14 years old. I am sitting on the couch and the 10-year-old throws a football in my direction. Not being prepared for it, I block it with my hand. It goes directly into the face of the 5-year-old. It hits his nose which immediately starts bleeding profusely. I get him to the bathroom, leaving a trail of blood spatter from the living room and through the hallway.
It took a long time for the bleeding to stop. When it finally stopped, the whole place looked like some sort of heinous murder scene. I tried to clean it up, but the carpet, couch, hardwood, and bathroom were all covered in drying blood. I let the parents know, but they weren’t prepared for the mess. Fortunately, they understood that their kids were wild, and appreciated my handling of the situation.”
This Mother Accused Her Of What?!
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“When I was 12 years old, I babysat for a weird family in my town. They had three daughters who were awesome, and we always had a blast. When I started, the youngest was two weeks old. It turned into me babysitting for them more than their parents were home or I was at my own home. Anyways, the parents are into weird stuff. One of the things they liked to do was for any major decisions they needed to make they would get out a sinker attached to a string and ask it questions. If it swung a certain way it meant yes, and if it went the other way it meant no.
Well anyway, I’ve been watching these girls for a couple years, and one night the mother asks where the father and I go when he takes me home. I tell her that he takes me home right away. She then says that it takes him two or three hours before he gets back. Obviously, I’m stunned at what she’s insinuating, but they pay okay, and I always knew they were crazy anyway. About a week after this, she tells me that I can no longer watch the kids because her sinker told her that the husband and I were having an affair. We weren’t. I was 12 and he was an ugly 37-year-old.”
Bless Their Souls
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“About 10 years ago, I was babysitting for a family I had met through the Special Olympics. The two girls were aged 5 and 13, and the older one was mentally challenged. On this particular evening, the older one was upstairs and the younger one was downstairs with me. The younger one wanted to go upstairs to see what her sister was doing, and I told her to go ahead.
About five minutes later, I hear the younger one coming downstairs yelling, ‘I want a snack’ so I go to meet her in the kitchen. Well the next thing I know, she’s falling down the stairs face first and she lands on her arm. I run over to her asking her if she’s okay, and she stands up and says her arm feels funny. Her right arm is clearly broken and shaped like the letter S and wobbling like its made out of Jello. I’m freaking out trying to figure out what do I do. I tell her to sit down and not touch anything while I call her parents, who were headed home already at the time.
So 10 minutes later, her parents get home and take her to the hospital where it turns out she broke her arm in two places. I felt terrible because I should have gone upstairs with her and walked her back downstairs in the first place. To make matters worse, the older one still to this day when they see me has to say, ‘Hey, remember when little sister broke her arm.’ Yes I remember, and I’ll never forget.”
A Nightmare Come To Life
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“When I was a teenager, I was babysitting for a family whose dog had just been hit by a car and had a broken leg. There was one kid, a 2-year-old girl. I had been asked to take the dog out to pee a few times that night, and he had to be leash walked. So while the little girl was happily watching TV on her parents’ bed, I took the dog out to the front yard. The people neglected to tell me that their front door locked on its own when it closed. I’ve never seen a door on a house do that. So when I turn to go back in, I’m locked out with a 2-year-old alone in the house. I go across the street to the neighbor. No answer. I go over to the window where I can see the kid from and try to instruct her to open the door. She goes to the front door, and from the window, alongside the door, I’m pointing and saying, ‘Open the door! Go on, open the door!’ and she’s not getting it. She breaks down crying hysterically because she doesn’t know why I’m not coming back in, then runs back to her parents’ bed to continue sobbing. I felt horrible.
The next door neighbor notices what’s going on and asks what’s up. He was kind of a shady guy. He was the last guy in the neighborhood to not sell his property for ‘flipping.’ It was a well-off neighborhood, and he had the last tiny brick bungalow among giant re-builds. He had a lovely unmowed lawn growing around an old rusty car up on blocks, but he was a nice guy. He said, ‘Oh I can break in for you, let me get my tools.’ So he proceeds to go up on the roof and completely remove their skylight and drop himself down into the house. Luckily, the little girl had fallen asleep on her parents’ bed by that point.
When the parents came home, they felt awful for not telling me about the door, and I had to tell them they should get their skylight checked for leaks. The neighbor across the street later told me she does have their spare key, and was home that night and heard me ringing her doorbell, but she had just had a bath and was in her bathrobe and didn’t feel like answering. She felt bad about that.”
Yarn Is Made For Knitting, Not Eating
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“I babysat regularly as a teenager. One night it was business as usual. I had just put the kids down to bed when I heard crying in the bathroom. I went in and the little one had a poop string hanging out of his bottom. I didn’t want to pull it in case it was wrapped around something, so I’m trying to keep this kid calm and call his parents. They don’t answer. I call over and over with this kid freaking out. I call my mom, who calmed me down, took their number, and then chain called them until she got a hold of them. They ‘rushed’ home and took him to the ER.
That was my weirdest night. The string came out fine. Apparently, the kid liked yarn.”
Mom’s Night Out
“I haven’t babysat in awhile, but when I was a teenager, I watched two kids up the street. The mother was single and had another single friend with two kids, so I usually watched them all. I knew they went out to party, which was fine because they’d come home after and pay me more than I expected. What I didn’t know is how much they partied.
One evening, I went upstairs to get money for pizza. I found both moms in the bathroom snorting illegal substances. The worst thing was when they offered me some despite the fact that A) I was about to spend the night watching their young children and B) I was only 14 or 15 at the time.”
I Believe I Can Fly
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“My mom signed me up for a babysitting job. A family from our church with four kids: 3-year-old girl and her three brothers probably 5, 8, and 9 years old. The older brothers were little devils. We were all in the basement playing NES when the two older brothers and the sister ran upstairs. I was not a good babysitter, considering I’m a dude who was playing NES.
Suddenly there is a loud rumbling noise from the stairs, which are just around the corner out of my view when this little girl goes FLYING into view at 100 mph and slams head first into the side of the couch. Her brothers had convinced her to climb inside a cooler and slide down the stairs. The cooler didn’t slide but instead tumbled and this little girl got her butt kicked by it. She had a bad rug burn, but she was otherwise okay. I was not asked back.”
The Candy Rebellion
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“I was babysitting an 8-year-old who got mad because I wouldn’t let her eat a ton of candy at midnight when she was supposed to be in bed, so she sat on the kitchen floor and urinated.
I made her clean it up.”
Quite A Scarring Experience
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“I used to babysit for two boys when I was 14 or 15, we’ll call them Jeff and Alan.
Jeff was 12 and had serious issues. He was hyperactive, had no control of himself, and he was on various medications. Alan was his baby brother, who was sweet, adorable, and the apple of his parents’ eye.
I watched these two kids on a regular basis and was their only babysitter because of the crazy shenanigans Jeff would regularly pull. Here are some of the highlights:
Jeff chased his brother and me with a butcher knife around the house. I managed to kick the knife out of his hand, and then tackled him. I pinned him down while finding my inner peace so I could keep myself from punching him. I was tipped well for not calling the police and handling it.
One time whilst changing Alan’s diaper, I ran out of wipes and went to go get some more from a cupboard. I returned to find Jeff touching Alan’s junk. I threw the wipes hard at Jeff while screaming, ‘What are you doing?!’ He ran up to his room to hide. I finished changing Alan and then went to talk to Jeff. He threw all of his toys at me while yelling at me to go away.
Another time Jeff was getting ready for bed and he came down to say goodnight. I had my back to him when he ran up and hugged me tight, he kept saying ‘I just love you, you’re my best friend’ and then I noticed he was humping me. I turn around and Jeff is naked and hard. I pushed him back and he jumped on the back of a wooden rocking horse and maniacally grinned at me while humping this horse and rocking.
I stopped watching Jeff and Alan when I got my first job. I didn’t keep contact, but somewhere out there Jeff is all grown up and among us. I hope that the therapy worked.”
There’s Something Sketchy Going On In The Stables
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“I babysat for a prominent family in my town; wife was a CEO and the husband was a lawyer. It was the best job ever! Two easy-going kids, $15 an hour (this was 15 years ago, so that was a TON of money), access to their pool, and an open invitation for my friends to come swim while I was ‘working.’
In between my first and second summer working for them, the parents divorced, and the dad bought a giant house out in the country where I’d watch the kids sometimes. He made it clear that his office and all the outbuildings were strictly off-limits. Okay, whatever, no problem. He had a ‘groundskeeper’ who was always prowling around, hitting on me and acting like a total creeper. If the kids or I came within 20 feet of the stables, he’d shoo us away saying he’d spotted a dangerous snake, just sprayed for bugs or some other stupid reason to keep us away.
I came home from school a few months after my summer gig was over and saw the dad’s mugshot on TV. He’d been busted as some kind of small-time criminal kingpin, selling illegal substances to dealers out of his house in the country, and his ‘groundskeeper’ was a wanted for assault.
It was an embarrassing ordeal for his ex-wife and their kids, and they eventually moved away. My parents freaked that I was working so close to criminal activity and wouldn’t let me babysit anymore after that. It was a bummer all around.”
They Did What In Front Of Her?!
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“When I was a young teenager, maybe 14 or 15 years old, I agreed to babysit a family every Friday night. I loved those kids, and I made pretty good money doing it. It started off great, but as time went on, it continued to get worse and worse. The parents were always partying, and they often forgot to pay me or would give me checks that were completely illegible, not signed, or even low payments. Once I got paid $3.54 for 11 hours of work. My dad would drag me back there Saturday mornings each time it happened, and stand behind me while I asked for my payment.
Another time, the husband had driven me home after partying, and was pulled over and given a ticket for driving while under the influence less than a block away from dropping me off, so instead of allowing them to drive me home, my parents told me to either call them to come to get me or to take my bike and ride it home at the end of the night. The last straw for my parents was one Friday night when this couple came home completely blasted and had brought a few friends home. The women came into the house and ran upstairs making tons of noise. I wasn’t sure if they knew I was even there. They came running back down the stairs like a couple of children racing to the bottom of the staircase wearing only bikini bottoms. I stood there in the living room while they rifled through the fridge and cupboards grabbing anything they could eat then running outside to meet the men who were standing on the patio getting the hot-tub running and warmed up. Then they stripped. And in front of my never seeing any kind of intimate interaction, 14-year-old eyes, I watched as they all fooled around with each other. Not knowing what to do, I called my house and my dad came to pick me up. As his vehicle’s lights lit up the driveway, the couples stopped and the mother of the children I was babysitting put a towel around herself and came running into the house apologizing and telling me she had forgotten I was there. My dad stood behind me while he demanded my payment. When I got the check, he told them to never call me again. I got paid $185 though, so that was pretty sweet.”