#45: Kristy and the Baby Parade
Number of half-finished BSC snarks currently sitting on my hard drive: nine. Finishing this one was nothing more than an act of sheer masochism.
“Okay, I admit,” Kristy says. Oh snap, she’s finally going to admit that she keeps that picture of Shannen Doherty under her - oh, no, she’s just bored. While babysitting her siblings! The horror! Imagine!
She blames the boredom on the gray dreary weather, instead of the real culprit, which is that kids are actually really boring to be around. God, I hate the “it’s raining out! Whatever will we DO?!” subplots that show up every four books or so. Do kids really need to be outside every second? Jesus, you live in a huge mansion with all the toys you could want, can you REALLY not think of a single thing to do indoors?
We’re left in suspense about how they intend to fill this dreary afternoon, however, because Kristy thinks she ought to back up and tell us why she’s babysitting these two kids. Obviously, a plot about a teenage girl keeping an eye on her younger brother and sister is just too complicated to follow without telling us her entire life story.
Her family is “complicated,” Kristy says, even though I don’t think divorce, remarriage, and adoption are that strange. She needs to watch some Maury and find out how friggin normal her life actually is. Anyway, the fantastic thing about snarking an e-book is that I don’t even have to flip through this section - I can delete it! I wish I had a Tivo just so I could illustrate it with a “bleep bloop!”
Getting back to the insufferable, crushing boredom, Kristy racks her brain trying to think of something to do. “I wasn’t about to turn on the TV - I only do that as a last resort - but I couldn’t come up with any other ideas for indoor activities.” Isn’t that the exact definition of a last resort, when you can’t think of anything else? Quit being a damn saint and plop the brats in front of the TV for five minutes. They won’t shrivel up, I promise.
She rules out making cookies and building with Legos before happening across a bunch of magazines and newspapers in the recycling, and she decrees that they are going to make collages. Do you ever get the feeling that Kristy probably just forces kids to do whatever brilliant idea she thinks of? They’re probably begging to watch TV or play Kick the Can or work in the stone mill or anything just to avoid being roped into another talent show. (“Please, Kristy, can’t we -” “NO! WE ARE MAKING COLLAGES! AND WE WILL HAVE AN ART SHOW!”)
While Emily goes crazy gluing her eyelids shut, Kristy notices an ad in the paper advertising a baby parade, with prizes for different kinds of floats and wagons and whatnot. It’s held every other year, and Kristy says she always thought it was dumb. Since forcing small children to dress up and take part in an organized event for her own enjoyment is something Kristy would never do, obviously.
She keeps glancing at Emily Michelle, though, until an idea pops into her head - she could enter Emily! “I’m famous for that - getting ideas, that is,” Kristy says. “Just ask my friends. I don’t mean to sound egotistical or anything. It’s just something I’m good at. Ideas pop into my head, and a lot of them turn out to be pretty terrific.” I feel like I say this a lot where Kristy is concerned, but HOW THE HELL IS THAT AN IDEA? She sees an ad for a baby parade, she has a baby sister, it doesn’t exactly take a brain surgeon to draw the conclusion that you could enter your BABY into a BABY EVENT. I think maybe people have been coddling Kristy a little too long to make her think she’s brilliant: “I’m hungry.” “What are we going to do?” “...WAIT! I’ve got it! Let’s eat dinner!” “By Jove, you’ve DONE IT AGAIN, KRISTY!” “Of course. I’m an Idea Machine. It’s what I do.”
The rest of her family comes home then, and then it occurs to Kristy - they babysit for babies! And Jessi has a baby brother! They can force everyone they know with an infant into this thing! Um, either it’s stupid or it’s not, Kristy. You don’t get to complain that the parade is dumb and then enter everyone you know.
Oh, wait, she better back up and tell us about the club. Bleep-bloop.
Chapter 3! We’re trucking now. It’s 5:25 pm on a Monday, which means Kristy is in her element, looking at an entire week of tyranny and brainwashing spreading out before her. As she sits and waits for the rest of the club to show up, she sits and thinks back to the very beginning of the club...
Bleep bloop! Damn, I’ve deleted half the book already.
It’s 5:31 now, and Kristy’s so lost in love with herself that she forgets to call the meeting to order. After she flogs herself for insubordination, Stacey takes dues, which were Kristy’s idea (bleep-bloop!) and somebody needs stuff for their Kid-Kit, which was Kristy’s idea (bleep-bloop!) and they catch up with the club notebook, which was Kristy’s idea (bleep-bloop!) and damn, there are only like twenty pages of actual new content.
Finally, Mrs. Prezzioso calls, which we know because Stacey rolls her eyes when she’s on the phone. Real mature. And whatever, I’d rather sit for a kid that’s kind of prissy than one that’s throwing tantrums (Claire) or killing small animals (Jackie) or is borderline mentally handicapped (Claud - I mean, Emily Michelle). Mrs. P. wants a regular sitter twice a week while she works on the planning board at Jenny’s preschool - of course she does - but the catch is that, now that Andrea’s older, she wants the sitter to have taken an infant care class. Wait, what? It was okay to leave your NEWBORN with an inexperienced thirteen year old, but now that the baby can hold her own head up, it’s not okay anymore? Kristy’s like, “OH GOD PICK ME!” because she is a major loser, and the others are like “WAIT, WE’LL TAKE THE CLASS TOO.” Um, Mrs. P. only offered to pay for ONE babysitter to take the class. Though it’d be pretty hilarious if they were like, “We have to split up the jobs because none of us can commit to a regular schedule,” and then she’d kind of have to pay for them all.
Chapter 4! At the infant care class, Mary Anne’s freaking out because she’s surrounded by pregnant women. I...kind of don’t know what to make of that. It’s vaguely Freudian. The men (the fathers-to-be, that is) are animatedly dicussing the “Diapering Techniques” poster, as men do in Ann M. Martin’s world, and Kristy’s about to go start discussing jock itch with them before she gets distracted by Mrs. Salem, mother of the twins Mary Anne will later cruelly neglect in favor of an egg. Before long, the class gets started, and Kristy immediately gets an erection over the instructor’s husband, who she bizarrely compares to Mr. Fiske the English teacher. I am not buying this.
They go around the room to introduce themselves, and Kristy the Brilliant suddenly realizes that the room is bursting with potential clients. I can’t believe she hasn’t thought of this before. Actually, I’m shocked she hasn’t started staking out the elementary school playground or going door to door to preach the Good News of the BSC.
The class doesn’t get too far, however, before one of the Salem twins starts screaming. Mrs. Salem is embarrassed and tries to feed him, but the baby isn’t having any of it. She tries walking him around the room, and then one of the pregnant women asks if he wants a toy. Claudia whispers that she can’t take much more of this, and at this point, he can’t have been crying more than a minute or two. Shut up, Claudia. Hot Mr. Fiske Clone asks if he’s colicky, and in a staggeringly poor show of continuity, Jessi asks what colic is. YOUR BROTHER HAD IT, GENIUS. As a matter of fact, you referred to it as YOUR MOST VIVID MEMORY. (I was going to link to my own snark of “Baby-sitters Remember” just there, until I realized I hadn’t posted it yet. But still. MOST VIVID MEMORY was of her own brother’s colic. The writers must really hate Jessi, because after this display of stupidity, she barely speaks again for the rest of the book.) Hot Mr. Fiske Clone says that it causes babies to scream for hours at a time, and the rest of the baby-sitters make a great show of gasping and pressing their hands to their foreheads, even though they explicitly discussed colic in “Hello, Mallory.” Jesus, Ellen Miles.
Suddenly Kristy’s like, “Durr, maybe he needs a diaper change?” (“BY JOVE, SHE’S DONE IT AGAIN!”) I can’t fucking believe that this woman has TWINS and it still takes random teenager to tell her that her screaming infant needs a new diaper. Thank god Mrs. Salem is taking this infant care class before she tries to let one of them drive the car or something.
Anita, the class instructor, makes a big deal about the fact that Mrs. Salem uses cloth diapers because they’re so much better for the environment, and we are mercifully spared the visual of Dawn creaming her pants right there in class. (Also, is that a yuppie East Coast thing or something? I have never known anyone who used cloth diapers. I’ve actually never even seen one. Then again, I do come from hardy white trash stock.) The kid finally shuts up and Kristy thinks the class will be challenging, but fun. Challenging like figuring out when your kid is wet? I think the word you’re looking for is “not retarded,” Kristy.
Chapter 5! Kristy’s being introduced to Ethan, Anita and Hot Mr. Fiske Clone’s kid. Kristy’s totally believable crush on HMFC has already disappeared, now that she realizes he’s “just another father, someone who would hire me as a baby-sitter, tell me where the plunger was in case the plumbing backed up, and go out to the movies with his wife.” I’m inappropriately amused that Kristy’s idea of a father is someone who tells her to unclog the crapper. Daddy Issues ahoy.
Kristy’s exchanged her jock strap for a skirt today because it’s their big baby class graduation ceremony, and sadly, they seem to think this is some sort of actual ceremony. Like, they’ve actully invited their families to come see them successfully complete a class at the Y. And Charlie came, because he’s hoping that maybe if he’s lucky Kristy will let him drive her somewhere afterward. He is officially the saddest 17-year-old guy ever. Lots of other BSC friends and parents are there (except Jessi’s, because the writers hate her so much that they’ll only let her little sister come) and Kristy’s all nervous because they’re about to find out how they did on their final tests. From the example question she gives us, though, I’m pretty sure that Claudia’s the only one that needs to worry. (“True or false: Babies make great ashtrays.”)
They also had to do practical evaluations showing how they can change diapers and stuff, and Don and Anita “would be taking points off for things like squeezing powder straight from the container - we were supposed to shake it into our hands first, so that we wouldn’t risk shooting powder into the baby’s face.” I’m going to the special hell, because I laughed my ASS off at the thought of Mallory shooting a powder bomb into her doll’s face, flunking the class, and maybe getting arrested for assault. (And then she’d probably pierce the damn thing’s ears.)
It turns out that two people in the class got the highest scores that have ever been granted to shining beacons of parenting perfection, and if you think that at least one of them was the woman who had actually birthed a child, you obviously have never been to Stoneybrook, where parents run wild in the streets while their eight-year-olds are inside balancing the checkbook. If you think one of them was Kristy, congratulations. I hope you’re as ashamed of this as I am. We could be reading Shakespeare right now.
The Cult heads back to headquarters for celebration and ritual flogging, when Kristy suddenly remembers that she’s supposed to call Mrs. P when she finishes the class. Mrs. P’s enthused Kristy didn’t just take the class money and run, and they arrange to start a week from Monday. What? Has the entire preschool planning board just been waiting around for the class to finish up? They hang up and Kristy starts feeling uneasy about taking care of a baby, even though, let’s face it, it ain’t like the parents around here are doing such a stellar job.
Chapter 6! Did you know that taking care of a baby isn’t exactly the same as taking care of a baby AND a four-year-old? Kristy sure didn’t! It isn’t as though she’s ever taken care of four-year-old Jamie Newton and his infant sister before!
Jenny, as usual, doesn’t do anything particularly bratty - not outside of run-of-the-mill four-year-old bratty, anyway - but I’m sure Kristy will tell the Cult all about how Jenny mercilessly attempted to drown Andrea in a vat of pasta when Jenny knocks over a bowl of spaghetti. Kristy struggles to clean it up and fix a bottle while holding Andrea in one arm, because you’re certainly never allowed to, say, set the child down while you’re bent over scrubbing the floor. Her arm finally goes numb while Andrea snorfs down the bottle (only then? Shit, I’d have dropped her out of exhaustion a half hour ago), but Kristy doesn’t want to bother her by adjusting. Because babies detonate if you move a muscle while they’re eating. I think maybe Kristy needs to take this class again.
In a staggering display of genius, Kristy finally plops her in the bouncer seat AFTER all the work’s done, but Mom of the Year forgot to burp her. It’s okay, Kristy. Mrs. Salem probably would have forgotten to feed her in the first place. She tries to bake cookies with Jenny, but it’s one thing after another with the baby and she never gets to, and Jenny actually doesn’t complain once. For a kid that’s a notorious brat and being constantly put off in favor of her sister, she’s being remarkably patient, in my opinion.
Mrs. P barges in just then, and Kristy tries to apologize for the mess they made by, you know, not baking cookies, but Mrs. P’s all, “Yeah, whatever, LOOK A FLIER FOR A BABY PARADE I’M GOING TO DRESS UP ANDREA AND VALIDATE MY EXISTENCE AS A MOTHER” and Kristy’s like, “Yeah, actually I was going to - “ and Mrs. P’s all, “SHUT UP VALIDATION” and Kristy’s all, “Uh-huh, so - “ and Mrs. P’s all, “OF COURSE, MY WORK IS DONE NOW THAT I GAVE BIRTH SO YOU DRESS HER UP OKAY” and Kristy’s all, “...” She thinks she doesn’t have time to get both Emily and Andrea ready for the parade, but I really have no idea what’s difficult about this. I mean, you put them in cutesy outfits and they roll along and drool and don’t do anything. And I’m guessing Andrea, at least, already has a bunch of cutesy outfits. Poor Emily, though. She got adopted by millionaires and she always seems to be dragging around in just a diaper, mumbling, “Please sir, may I have some more?” in Vietnamese.
Chapter 7! ...Jesus, that’s ALL? Unlike Kristy, Claudia actually remembers that the Newtons exist, and unlike Kristy, Claudia is a halfway decent babysitter and manages to entertain the four-year-old without totally neglecting the baby. I’m even willing to forgive her for being dressed as a watermelon while minors are entrusted to her care. I’m not willing to go so far as to recap her babysitting job, though. They go to the library and the lack of disfiguring accidents is boring.
Over at the Cult meeting, Kristy asks the BSC what she should dress Emily as, and Mary Anne reminds her she’s supposed to be getting Andrea together too. Kristy isn’t sure if her mother will even let her enter Emily (ten bucks says that when she asks, Elizabeth says, “Emily who? Oh, that Asian kid you’re always toting around?”), plus she’s afraid that if she doesn’t dress up Andrea, Mrs. P. will fire her. Because when you’re desperate for someone to watch your brats for three full weeks and you’ve already paid for them to have professional training, you’ll look for any reason to alienate the only sitters in town.
Claudia has a rare brain wave and says that Lucy Newton should be entered in the parade too, given that she fulfills the all-important criteria (“is, technically, a baby”). Jessi manages to remind them all that she’s got a baby brother, who happens to be an actual infant, unlike Emily Michelle, who is some sort of developmentally delayed second grader. No one listens to her, though, because she’s black Mary Anne interrupts her to say that Laura and Gabbie Perkins would love to be in the parade. Okay, bullshit, right there. If you can tap-dance and remember all the words to “Hard Knock Life,” you’ve got no business competing against things that don’t have teeth yet. Actually, I’m going to say that if you understand what’s going on well enough to “love” the idea of being in the parade, you’re too old for it. Laura I’ll allow, but get to the back of the line, Gabbie. Dawn throws out Eleanor Marshall too, because they’re pretty much just yelling names at this point, when suddenly Kristy “felt it coming. An idea.” Kristy, sweetie, that’s just gas.
Unfortunately, her idea is much worse than a rank one, because she thinks they should build a float and force every baby they know to ride on it. She squeals that her idea is perfect because she can get the float together AND get Andrea’s stroller ready, because building a float and supervising a bunch of babies is so much easier than decorating a second stroller.
Come Saturday, the float planning brigade is over at the Schafer-Spier Den of Hate, and Kristy is dying to tell everyone her great idea - the float will be baseball themed! They’ll stuff the kids in little uniforms and decorate the float like a baseball diamond! I hate sports, so I’m a bit meh on this, but as far as floats go, it’s tame. I mean, if I saw it at a parade, I’d probably say, “Awww,” and then I’d want a hot dog.
“ ‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ said Dawn in a flat voice. ‘That has to be the worst idea I’ve ever heard.’ ” ...Worse than the Chia Pet? Worse than Vietnam? Worse than the Fall Into Fall Festival? Have a little fucking perspective, Dawn. And a side of tact. What a bitch.
Just to make her even more unlikeable (as if it were possible), she continues, “ ‘I think we should do something really different, something nobody else in Stoneybrook would ever think about. Like Surfin’ USA!’ She smiled at all of us. ‘We’ll dress the babies in really cool-looking outfits, put them on surfboards, and decorate the float to look like the ocean.’ ”
...Uh huh. Her own idea is exactly the same as the “worst idea she’s ever heard,” except with a different sport. Everything about Dawn is morally reprehensible.
Mary Anne giggles and says she thinks they should do something a little more baby-themed, like a nursery rhyme. At least that makes sense, DAWN. But she loses me with her announcement that the rhyme should be “Three Little Kittens,” and “of course, Tigger could be on the float, too.” Because on a parade float, in public, surrounded by tons of people and grabby babies is just the place for a kitten. Also, I don’t think the audience will get that a bunch of babies dressed as cats and one actual cat is supposed to be the Three Little Kittens. (“Why is that cat clawing apart a baby dressed as a possum?”)
Stacey rightfully calls Mary Anne out on her thinly veiled excuse to get Tigger in the parade, and Mary Anne cries, because she is a jackass. Stacey backpedals and explains that dressing up babies as if they were babies is far too childish, and the judges will be looking for more sophistication. Obviously, this is why babies throw so many dinner parties and discuss yachting. Stacey thinks evening gowns and tuxedos are just the thing, and they’ll be in front of a New York City skyline, because what could be more sophisticated than New York? Other than a city where there aren’t homeless people openly pissing in the gutters, I mean.
Claudia scoffs all, “BABIES in TUXEDOS?” as if she wouldn’t dress them as Snickers bars if given half a chance, but she isn’t given half a chance, because Kristy turns on Mallory and demands to know what’s she’s thought of. Mallory, shockingly, does not suggest a shrine of a giant pierced ear. Her actual idea is even dumber, though, and even Mal knows it, because she blurts out, “IwasthinkingofdoingMistyofChincoteague.” Why the hell did she even suggest it if she knew what a stupid idea it was? “I thought we could act it out,” she says, because after babies are finished drinking brandy and playing snooker, they often engage in an amusing round of pantomime. (“Why is that cat clawing apart a baby dressed as a donkey?”)
Even Jessi, who actually shares Mallory’s, um, questionable love of horses, thinks this idea is ridiculous, and everyone breaks up laughing at how dumb everyone else’s ideas are. Finally Kristy’s like, “Hey Claudia, we heard from everybody else, how about you?” and Claudia admits that her idea is “babies from outer space,” which is apparantly stupidest of all, as if Claudia being the dumbest person in the room is somehow surprising. Oh well, at least everyone contributed a stupid idea. Everyone in the whole room. There’s certainly no girl in the corner mumbling, “Ballet? Can we do a ballet theme?”
They manage to agree that Mary Anne’s nursery rhyme idea is the least fucking inane, though they nix the kitten idea for a nursery rhyme with more characters. Kristy claims that “someone” called out the idea of the Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe, though conveniently not one of the people present can remember who said it. HER NAME IS JESSI, YOU GUYS. JESUS.
Really, Kristy thinks that no one wants to take the blame for it considering what a black hole of crap it turns into, but I find it unfair to blame the Old Woman and the Shoe for the fact that they suck. Mary Anne announces that they’re going to need more babies for this one, because they’ve only got five signed up. Uh, because the audience might look at a float with a giant shoe, a lady dressed as a grandma, and five babies on it and think “Well, I THOUGHT it was the Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe, but that’s clearly not enough children. Fuck this, I’m going to go drink and play with firearms now.”
...Okay, actually, I just looked it up because I didn’t remember the rhyme at all (if I ever knew it in the first place), and, to whit:
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.
She had so many children, she didn't know what to do.
She gave them some broth without any bread,
Then whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.
Okay, there was an old woman who lived in a shoe, who couldn’t be arsed to keep her legs closed, so she starved the kids and beat them. This is exactly the kind of fun family project I want to involve my infant in. Jesus, they should have just done that episode of Who’s the Boss? where Tony sees Angela naked in the shower.
Kristy doesn’t know who else to ask, since Emily, Squirt, Lucy Newton, Laura Perkins, and Eleanor Marshall are the only kids they know under the age of three. I guess Sari Papadakis, Skylar Korman, Marnie Barrett, and Ryan Dewitt totally don’t count. (They lamely add that Gabbie “didn’t want” to be in the parade, which is doubtful considering what an attention whore that kid is. My guess is that the parade officials asked to see proof of age and discovered that she’s actually 26.)
“Where can we get more babies?” Kristy wonders aloud. Stacey better get to work! (Rim shot.)
Wait, you guys! They totally just met a bunch of babies at their infant care class! Wait, WHAT? Those babies WEREN’T EVEN BORN YET. If the mothers popped that very day, the kids would be two weeks old now. I implore you, BSC snarkers with children - how many of you would have handed your two-week-old infant over to an eighth grader you didn’t know to go ride on a parade float? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Besides, if they just wanted to carry around immobile blobs that aren’t big enough to be seen from the sidelines, why don’t they just use a few dolls in addition to the real kids? Oh, right. Because that would be a GOOD idea, and Kristy Thomas is not in the business of those.
Of course, Mrs. Salem says yes right away, because she’d like a break from shooting powder into her children’s faces and jabbing them with diaper pins. She must throw in another two for free, too, because they come up with four more babies, for a total of nine. They have no idea how they’re going to deal with nine babies, so it’s certainly a good thing they figured that out before they asked to borrow other people’s children.
At Kristy’s next sitting job, Mrs. P. has already picked out a theme and an outfit for Andrea’s stroller: she’s going to be Queen Andrea, complete with tacky plastic crown and a wig that Kristy thinks looks like her neighbor’s cat. Kristy thinks this idea is weird, but I really don’t see how it’s any stupider than dressing up a baby as a baseball player. Kristy hopefully asks if this means she doesn’t have to do anything, and Mrs. P.’s all, “Oh, yeah, make her stroller into a coach. It better look good because I’m going to base her entire self-worth for the next 18 years on whether she wins. BYE-EEEEEE!”
Kristy actually freaks out that Mrs. P. will fire her and ruin the reputation of the club if the stroller isn’t perfect. Because when sane people hear, “Don’t hire her! She didn’t turn my baby’s stroller into a satisfactory coach!” they totally think, “My god! And I’ve been leaving my CHILDREN alone with this monster?” She gets some sparkly fabric and totally ignores Jenny, who’s trying to win back her mother’s love by singing and dancing in the parade too, and makes the “craziest” coach she can think of. Mrs. P. apparently loves it, because she has no taste. Er, if Mrs. P. came up with the idea and the costume and she’s going to be walking Andrea in the parade, I don’t even get why she didn’t just make the damn coach too.
The next chapter - hey, it’s Jessi! She’s sitting for Becca and Squirt and decides to bring them over to Claudia’s to work on the float, but when she gets there Claudia, Stacey, and Mallory are in total bitchface mode and not speaking to each other. Claud’s busy bending chicken wire into a shape of a giant shoe - as you do - and Jessi wonders how the babies are supposed to fit into the plan. Don’t they just sort of...sit around the shoe...? Why do these bitches make everything so difficult? Jessi offers Claud a suggestion, and Claud thanks her and totally ignores it, which makes sense since Ellen Miles can’t even give Jessi an actual suggestion to make (she just “made a suggestion”). Dude, that’s not even laziness, she’s just hating now.
Stacey’s mixing up paint and testing colors on cardboard, and Jessi, continuing to be not helpful in the least, says she likes the gaudy orange-red but doesn’t mention that there isn’t nearly enough paint for the Shoe that Ate Tokyo.
Mallory’s sketching costumes and toting a big bag of material, and I have no idea why she even needs to be present in Claudia’s backyard for that. She shows the material to Jessi and remarks that it was really cheap, and apparently you get what you pay for, because the material is the exact shade of pink that, when combined with Stacey’s orange-red, will cause nuclear holocaust. Jessi doesn’t think she has any room to say anything, because they’re all working so hard, but she wonders why they can’t just TALK to each other - it would make everything run so much more smoothly. Oh, you mean talking to each other BEFORE the project turns out completely crap? You mean someone should say something like, “Hey, Mallory, Stacey, those are nice colors, but maybe they don’t look good together, and by the way, Stacey, there isn’t enough paint for Frankenshoe”? Jesus, just say something or leave it alone.
Oh goody, here comes Dawn! Like the bitch she is, she swoops in toting the Newton kids, compliments the work everyone’s doing, and then starts talking shit about them behind their backs. Jessi shushes her and says everyone’s working hard, and Dawn delusionally says it’ll look fine anyway. She and Jessi pretend to make Lucy and Squirt say hello to each other in fancy lady voices (...poor Squirt) and then Mary Anne joins them with Laura Perkins. I’m so glad they get paid to sit around and treat other people’s children like dolls at a tea party.
Kristy shows up next, dragging Jenny and Andrea, because no member of the BSC is legally allowed to show up any place without a minimum of two children. Being, as she is, blunt as hell, she wants to go over there and tell them the float looks like shit, but Mary Anne convinces her not to. No, SERIOUSLY. SPEAK NOW OR FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE. I learned from a very unpleasant incident at work today that people don’t like being told that they did something all wrong AFTER all the work is done. Not to mention that one of them could, you know, offer to HELP or something.
Luckily, Kristy, Jessi, Mary Anne, and Dawn can continue being completely useless to the float-building brigade because all the babies start hitting and shrieking and barfing on each other until Claudia screeches at them to shut the hell up. Kristy, knowing that she will never be a real man unless she learns to solve her problems with fists, gets up to pop her one, but Mary Anne stops her because they don’t have time to fight while they’re trying to get the float done. Right, no time for an argument, but plenty of time to show up for a labor-intensive project with a bunch of babies so you’ll have an excuse to not actually work. Seriously, advantage: Claudia. It’s her backyard, she’s actually doing work, and the rest of them just showed up unannounced to bitch about her Shoe of the Damned and slow her down. Looking over the mess, Kristy wonders if there’s such a thing as too many babies. No, but there’s such a thing as 2 many babies.
The next chapter opening, excellently, is the stuff my fantasies are made of:
“I suppose you all think I should be apologizing for my behavior in Claud’s yard today, but to tell you the truth, I don’t think I should have to. I was only being honest. Besides, as the Marshalls’ sitter, I think I owe it to them to make sure that Eleanor looks as good as possible on the float. I can’t believe the parade is only two days away...
Maybe Dawn really did think she was being honest, but still, she did owe us an apology. Or at least she should have apologized to Mallory. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. Let me tell the story as it happened.”
HAHAHA FINALLY SOMEONE CALLS OUT DAWN ON BEING THE HEINOUS CUNT SHE IS HAHAHA VINDICATION. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. Let me tell you what a cunt she is as it happens.
Dawn’s babysitting for the Marshall girls and I want to eat Eleanor up with a spoon, she is so friggin cute. But naturally Dawn can’t be arsed to entertain her charges at home the way she’s paid to do, and she drags them out to Claudia’s to check out the Shoe of the Living Dead, which is shaping up to look like ass. Actually I’m kind of amused that for once they admit the Artist Extraordinaire didn’t create something amazing, though I don’t blame her, seeing as how Claudia always seems to get stuck with a disproportionate amount of work in their little projects (“Oh, Claudia can make all the signs/posters/scenery/etc!”). Claudia is in the middle of blaming Stacey for not using enough paint - in the grand tradition of Making Things More Difficult than They Should Be, with no particular explanation as to why they can’t just mix up some more - but Stacey thinks the problem is that the shoe looks like something the dog squatted and left on the rug.
Dawn asks where the kids are going to sit - no, seriously, when you’re borrowing other people’s children, shouldn’t you plan something like this ahead of time so you don’t end up with a safety issue, oh brilliant babysitter? Kristy says she’s got it figured out, but Claudia interrupts to say that SHE built the float, so she’s going to do it her way. Kristy mildly asks what her way might be, but Claudia - and this comes as a shock - has no idea. Er...what’s the point of throwing a snit about doing things your way when you don’t even have an idea? More to the point, how many different configurations can there be? They sit on the float around Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Shoe. That’s...about it, I think.
By now the other babysitters have shown up toting various stolen children, so Kristy suggests a dress rehearsal to see how the costumes and float work together. They stuff the babies into Mallory’s monstrous pink clown outfits, plop them next to the giant orange blob, and stand back to check out the nauseating effect. Charming.
Stacey sarcastically snaps at Mallory for picking material that looks like hell with the paint, but seeing as how we saw her mixing that shade of paint AFTER Mal bought the material, she can feel free to shut the fuck up. Kristy tells them to shut it, but proceeds to put her foot in it by asking Mal where the babysitters’ costumes are. Mal durrrrrs that she didn’t think of that and doesn’t have enough time to make them now in any case. Well, really, complete outfits for nine babies AND seven adults? That’s a damn expensive lot of material and a damn lot of sewing to pawn off on one person. That is a little ridiculous, seeing as how everyone probably could have put together their own outfits with a little thrift shopping. The need for custom-made electric pink clownsuits escapes me at this juncture.
Stacey doesn’t see what difference it makes, since the Shoe of the Damned looks like a big lumpy uterus anyway. Wait, DAWN’S the one who needs to apologize? Because I see Stacey behaving like a tremendous cunt for no particular reason. Claudia snaps back and the babies start screaming, and Dawn mumbles that they’re probably upset that they looks so stupid in their costumes. Okay, I admit it - HILARIOUS. Mallory bursts into tears and then shoves Jessi for trying to comfort her, because even Jessi’s best friend hates her. They all piss and moan for a while, then Dawn ends up stomping back to the Marshalls’ and putting Eleanor in a little party dress and pigtails, and why they didn’t just dress the kids that way to begin with remains a mystery to this day.
The morning of the parade is bright and sunny, but Kristy doesn’t feel bright and sunny. She’s worried about the parade: “What would Mrs. P. do if Andrea didn’t win a prize?” Sell her to a sweatshop, maybe? I mean...I’m genuinely concerned at how concerned Kristy is about this. Maybe child services should have been called at some point, is all I’m saying.
If you were wondering exactly how this float was going to travel in the parade, you obviously aren’t familiar with these books. “Me and the Junk Bucket are at your disposal,” Charlie announces. “Chauffeur, float-puller, and handyman.” Don’t forget “loser,” “virgin,” and “desperate,” there, Chuck. He drives Kristy over to the Prezziosos’ to help Andrea get ready, but...wait, all she does is get Andrea dressed and push the stroller coach to the front yard. What. The fuck. Mrs. P. is incapable of dressing her own child without having a teenager drive all the way across town and do it for her. Can these parents even wipe their own asses without hiring the BSC to do it for them? I think that if the series had gone on another fifty books or so, the mothers of Stoneybrook probably would have hired the club to just go ahead and carry and give birth to the children too.
In a staggering show of efficiency, Kristy goes all the way back home to get dressed herself and get Emily ready. She slaps together an old woman costume out of a long skirt and a frumpy blouse in five minutes, so I have no idea why she wanted Mallory to hand-sew her a full-body clownsuit. Even Emily, who has an IQ of about 8, is smart enough to start screaming the minute Kristy tries to stuff her in her outfit. Watson and Elizabeth, in another award-winning parental performance, don’t even question why their child is dressed like a trained monkey as Kristy stomps out the door dragging Charlie’s manhood behind her.
When they arrive at Claudia’s, even Charlie, who has a sucking black hole where his self-respect should be, is horrified to pull Shoezilla (which has conveniently grown tentacles, or as Claudia calls them, “shoelaces”) behind the Junk Bucket. He makes a great show of putting on a big hat and mirrored sunglasses so that no one recognizes him, even though I doubt anyone would recognize him anyway. I can’t imagine he meets many people while he’s sitting in his car twelve hours a day waiting for Kristy.
They show up to their meeting place, and because the babysitters are legally obligated to adhere to their single personality trait, Dawn is dressed like a beachcomber, Mary Anne is dressed like Raggedy Ann, Stacey is wearing a New York sweatshirt, and Jessi is in a ballet outfit. Oh, COME ON. The babies look equally stupid, except Eleanor, who just looks out of place in her cute outfit. They all sit around pouting (the babysitters, not the babies...the babies are way more mature), even though it’s not like any of them put in a modicum of effort. Jessi and Mallory almost make up by discussing the parademaster’s horse in semipornographic terms ("LOOK AT THOSE SWEATY HEAVING FLANKS"), but luckily they remember they hate each other just in time.
The babies - surprise - are spread around the Shoe from the Black Lagoon, variously on blankets or bouncers. Mrs. Salem requested that Kristy specifically take care of her twins, so of course she holds her two-year-old sister and just plops the newborn babies on the ground in front of her ON THE MOVING FLOAT. Christ almighty. (Claudia did build a “guard railing” around it, but it seems to me that it’s either got to be high enough that setting the babies behind it would put them completely out of sight of the crowd - thus rendering the entire float pointless in addition to ugly - or it’s low enough that they can still fall over the edge. I remain unimpressed.)
The parade finally starts a-rolling, and Kristy notices that the crowd, which is clapping and cheering for the floats before them, has suddenly been struck dumb with unabashed horror. Luckily, Claudia has helpfully provided signs on either side so that they can still tell what the float is supposed to be: “The one that hung from my side of the float said, THEIR WAS AN OLD WOMMAN WHO LIVED IN A SHO. The other one said, THAIR WAS AN OLD WOMANN WHO LIVED IN A SHUE. Nobody had had time to check Claud’s spelling.”
FOR CHRIST. I can’t decide who’s more at fault here - Claudia, for painting the signs without asking for help even though she knows she’s a fucking idiot; or the others, for not insisting on checking them even though they know she’s a fucking idiot. Or Claudia, for not even being smart enough to realize that if the same word is spelled two different ways, at least one of them is wrong; or the others, for always giving Claudia the one task that she can’t possibly do. Or the others, for claiming that they “didn’t have time” to read two goddamn sentences. Or Claudia, for making it to the eighth grade and still being unable to spell a four-letter word. I hope Cthulshoe BURSTS INTO FLAME.
Or the next best thing, which is that they get stuck behind a bagpipe band. Er, why is there a bagpipe band in a baby parade? However, the bagpipes aren’t so loud that they drown out the taunts of the high school version of the Badd Boyz, who have spotted the trademark Junk Bucket and will flush Charlie’s head in the toilet during gym class tomorrow for the crime of being seen in public. Er...why are a bunch of high school guys even AT a baby parade? Everything about this chapter is a total mystery.
I get incredibly excited when Kristy says “Then the worst thing in the world happened,” because I had visions of the lumpy mountain collapsing on top of a bunch of strangers’ borrowed newborn babies (is it sick, that’s where my head goes?) but all that happens is a couple of high school girls spot Charlie and start giggling. Why does Kristy care at all? It’s not like Charlie’s balls would descend long enough for him to refuse to take her places anymore.
The parade crawls along, the babies are beginning to cry and barf and attempt to crawl over the edge, Eleanor’s dress is smudged with red paint (huh?), and Kristy has had it. As have I. Let’s wind this fucker up.
They realize just how badly they sucked as they watch the other floats roll in, including a Star Wars one, a Wizard of Oz one, and a Goodnight Moon one. It suddenly occurs to Kristy that Andrea’s coach stroller isn’t as gaudy as she thought, either, especially compared to the baby DRESSED AS RAMBO, who wins third prize and emancipation from his legally insane parents. This entire parade is making Mrs. Arnold look totally normal.
Kristy grumps through the entire awards ceremony and worries that they might win third prize and she’ll have to go up there in her old woman getup. Wait, she actually thinks they might win third prize? Compared to the actual working merry-go-round float? Did the paint fumes coming off the Great Red Shoe kill off some brain cells? They don’t win a damn thing, of course, but Queen Andrea manages to scrape a win in the stroller division and avoid being abandoned in a dumpster. The sitters are relieved it’s over, the parents are relieved that their children are still alive (no, it actually says that), and Charlie’s relieved he can fade back into SHS obscurity when Kristy tells him to chuck The Shoe from the Black Lagoon at the dump. He probably pees on it and sets it on fire too, and I’m okay with that.
Kristy starts thinking when she gets home - the float didn’t work because they didn’t work together! They all thought they knew what was best and did their own thing! She'd like to buy the world some coke a Coke and live in harmony! Everybody calls each other and makes up, of course, and tactfully don’t mention that the whole thing is Claudia’s fault for making such an ugly goddamn shoe.
In the denouement meeting, they all discuss how cults need to work together, while Jessi and Mallory entertain themselves by tearing perfume samples out of a magazine and rubbing them all over themselves. Jessi thinks that this makes them smell really rich - “Like what you’d wear if you lived in Beverly Hills or something” - because in Jessi’s world, the upper-class have the servants rub fragrance on them straight off a cardboard insert in Seventeen magazine. It all just goes to show, no matter what happens, Ellen Miles really fucking hates Jessi.
“Okay, I admit,” Kristy says. Oh snap, she’s finally going to admit that she keeps that picture of Shannen Doherty under her - oh, no, she’s just bored. While babysitting her siblings! The horror! Imagine!
She blames the boredom on the gray dreary weather, instead of the real culprit, which is that kids are actually really boring to be around. God, I hate the “it’s raining out! Whatever will we DO?!” subplots that show up every four books or so. Do kids really need to be outside every second? Jesus, you live in a huge mansion with all the toys you could want, can you REALLY not think of a single thing to do indoors?
We’re left in suspense about how they intend to fill this dreary afternoon, however, because Kristy thinks she ought to back up and tell us why she’s babysitting these two kids. Obviously, a plot about a teenage girl keeping an eye on her younger brother and sister is just too complicated to follow without telling us her entire life story.
Her family is “complicated,” Kristy says, even though I don’t think divorce, remarriage, and adoption are that strange. She needs to watch some Maury and find out how friggin normal her life actually is. Anyway, the fantastic thing about snarking an e-book is that I don’t even have to flip through this section - I can delete it! I wish I had a Tivo just so I could illustrate it with a “bleep bloop!”
Getting back to the insufferable, crushing boredom, Kristy racks her brain trying to think of something to do. “I wasn’t about to turn on the TV - I only do that as a last resort - but I couldn’t come up with any other ideas for indoor activities.” Isn’t that the exact definition of a last resort, when you can’t think of anything else? Quit being a damn saint and plop the brats in front of the TV for five minutes. They won’t shrivel up, I promise.
She rules out making cookies and building with Legos before happening across a bunch of magazines and newspapers in the recycling, and she decrees that they are going to make collages. Do you ever get the feeling that Kristy probably just forces kids to do whatever brilliant idea she thinks of? They’re probably begging to watch TV or play Kick the Can or work in the stone mill or anything just to avoid being roped into another talent show. (“Please, Kristy, can’t we -” “NO! WE ARE MAKING COLLAGES! AND WE WILL HAVE AN ART SHOW!”)
While Emily goes crazy gluing her eyelids shut, Kristy notices an ad in the paper advertising a baby parade, with prizes for different kinds of floats and wagons and whatnot. It’s held every other year, and Kristy says she always thought it was dumb. Since forcing small children to dress up and take part in an organized event for her own enjoyment is something Kristy would never do, obviously.
She keeps glancing at Emily Michelle, though, until an idea pops into her head - she could enter Emily! “I’m famous for that - getting ideas, that is,” Kristy says. “Just ask my friends. I don’t mean to sound egotistical or anything. It’s just something I’m good at. Ideas pop into my head, and a lot of them turn out to be pretty terrific.” I feel like I say this a lot where Kristy is concerned, but HOW THE HELL IS THAT AN IDEA? She sees an ad for a baby parade, she has a baby sister, it doesn’t exactly take a brain surgeon to draw the conclusion that you could enter your BABY into a BABY EVENT. I think maybe people have been coddling Kristy a little too long to make her think she’s brilliant: “I’m hungry.” “What are we going to do?” “...WAIT! I’ve got it! Let’s eat dinner!” “By Jove, you’ve DONE IT AGAIN, KRISTY!” “Of course. I’m an Idea Machine. It’s what I do.”
The rest of her family comes home then, and then it occurs to Kristy - they babysit for babies! And Jessi has a baby brother! They can force everyone they know with an infant into this thing! Um, either it’s stupid or it’s not, Kristy. You don’t get to complain that the parade is dumb and then enter everyone you know.
Oh, wait, she better back up and tell us about the club. Bleep-bloop.
Chapter 3! We’re trucking now. It’s 5:25 pm on a Monday, which means Kristy is in her element, looking at an entire week of tyranny and brainwashing spreading out before her. As she sits and waits for the rest of the club to show up, she sits and thinks back to the very beginning of the club...
Bleep bloop! Damn, I’ve deleted half the book already.
It’s 5:31 now, and Kristy’s so lost in love with herself that she forgets to call the meeting to order. After she flogs herself for insubordination, Stacey takes dues, which were Kristy’s idea (bleep-bloop!) and somebody needs stuff for their Kid-Kit, which was Kristy’s idea (bleep-bloop!) and they catch up with the club notebook, which was Kristy’s idea (bleep-bloop!) and damn, there are only like twenty pages of actual new content.
Finally, Mrs. Prezzioso calls, which we know because Stacey rolls her eyes when she’s on the phone. Real mature. And whatever, I’d rather sit for a kid that’s kind of prissy than one that’s throwing tantrums (Claire) or killing small animals (Jackie) or is borderline mentally handicapped (Claud - I mean, Emily Michelle). Mrs. P. wants a regular sitter twice a week while she works on the planning board at Jenny’s preschool - of course she does - but the catch is that, now that Andrea’s older, she wants the sitter to have taken an infant care class. Wait, what? It was okay to leave your NEWBORN with an inexperienced thirteen year old, but now that the baby can hold her own head up, it’s not okay anymore? Kristy’s like, “OH GOD PICK ME!” because she is a major loser, and the others are like “WAIT, WE’LL TAKE THE CLASS TOO.” Um, Mrs. P. only offered to pay for ONE babysitter to take the class. Though it’d be pretty hilarious if they were like, “We have to split up the jobs because none of us can commit to a regular schedule,” and then she’d kind of have to pay for them all.
Chapter 4! At the infant care class, Mary Anne’s freaking out because she’s surrounded by pregnant women. I...kind of don’t know what to make of that. It’s vaguely Freudian. The men (the fathers-to-be, that is) are animatedly dicussing the “Diapering Techniques” poster, as men do in Ann M. Martin’s world, and Kristy’s about to go start discussing jock itch with them before she gets distracted by Mrs. Salem, mother of the twins Mary Anne will later cruelly neglect in favor of an egg. Before long, the class gets started, and Kristy immediately gets an erection over the instructor’s husband, who she bizarrely compares to Mr. Fiske the English teacher. I am not buying this.
They go around the room to introduce themselves, and Kristy the Brilliant suddenly realizes that the room is bursting with potential clients. I can’t believe she hasn’t thought of this before. Actually, I’m shocked she hasn’t started staking out the elementary school playground or going door to door to preach the Good News of the BSC.
The class doesn’t get too far, however, before one of the Salem twins starts screaming. Mrs. Salem is embarrassed and tries to feed him, but the baby isn’t having any of it. She tries walking him around the room, and then one of the pregnant women asks if he wants a toy. Claudia whispers that she can’t take much more of this, and at this point, he can’t have been crying more than a minute or two. Shut up, Claudia. Hot Mr. Fiske Clone asks if he’s colicky, and in a staggeringly poor show of continuity, Jessi asks what colic is. YOUR BROTHER HAD IT, GENIUS. As a matter of fact, you referred to it as YOUR MOST VIVID MEMORY. (I was going to link to my own snark of “Baby-sitters Remember” just there, until I realized I hadn’t posted it yet. But still. MOST VIVID MEMORY was of her own brother’s colic. The writers must really hate Jessi, because after this display of stupidity, she barely speaks again for the rest of the book.) Hot Mr. Fiske Clone says that it causes babies to scream for hours at a time, and the rest of the baby-sitters make a great show of gasping and pressing their hands to their foreheads, even though they explicitly discussed colic in “Hello, Mallory.” Jesus, Ellen Miles.
Suddenly Kristy’s like, “Durr, maybe he needs a diaper change?” (“BY JOVE, SHE’S DONE IT AGAIN!”) I can’t fucking believe that this woman has TWINS and it still takes random teenager to tell her that her screaming infant needs a new diaper. Thank god Mrs. Salem is taking this infant care class before she tries to let one of them drive the car or something.
Anita, the class instructor, makes a big deal about the fact that Mrs. Salem uses cloth diapers because they’re so much better for the environment, and we are mercifully spared the visual of Dawn creaming her pants right there in class. (Also, is that a yuppie East Coast thing or something? I have never known anyone who used cloth diapers. I’ve actually never even seen one. Then again, I do come from hardy white trash stock.) The kid finally shuts up and Kristy thinks the class will be challenging, but fun. Challenging like figuring out when your kid is wet? I think the word you’re looking for is “not retarded,” Kristy.
Chapter 5! Kristy’s being introduced to Ethan, Anita and Hot Mr. Fiske Clone’s kid. Kristy’s totally believable crush on HMFC has already disappeared, now that she realizes he’s “just another father, someone who would hire me as a baby-sitter, tell me where the plunger was in case the plumbing backed up, and go out to the movies with his wife.” I’m inappropriately amused that Kristy’s idea of a father is someone who tells her to unclog the crapper. Daddy Issues ahoy.
Kristy’s exchanged her jock strap for a skirt today because it’s their big baby class graduation ceremony, and sadly, they seem to think this is some sort of actual ceremony. Like, they’ve actully invited their families to come see them successfully complete a class at the Y. And Charlie came, because he’s hoping that maybe if he’s lucky Kristy will let him drive her somewhere afterward. He is officially the saddest 17-year-old guy ever. Lots of other BSC friends and parents are there (except Jessi’s, because the writers hate her so much that they’ll only let her little sister come) and Kristy’s all nervous because they’re about to find out how they did on their final tests. From the example question she gives us, though, I’m pretty sure that Claudia’s the only one that needs to worry. (“True or false: Babies make great ashtrays.”)
They also had to do practical evaluations showing how they can change diapers and stuff, and Don and Anita “would be taking points off for things like squeezing powder straight from the container - we were supposed to shake it into our hands first, so that we wouldn’t risk shooting powder into the baby’s face.” I’m going to the special hell, because I laughed my ASS off at the thought of Mallory shooting a powder bomb into her doll’s face, flunking the class, and maybe getting arrested for assault. (And then she’d probably pierce the damn thing’s ears.)
It turns out that two people in the class got the highest scores that have ever been granted to shining beacons of parenting perfection, and if you think that at least one of them was the woman who had actually birthed a child, you obviously have never been to Stoneybrook, where parents run wild in the streets while their eight-year-olds are inside balancing the checkbook. If you think one of them was Kristy, congratulations. I hope you’re as ashamed of this as I am. We could be reading Shakespeare right now.
The Cult heads back to headquarters for celebration and ritual flogging, when Kristy suddenly remembers that she’s supposed to call Mrs. P when she finishes the class. Mrs. P’s enthused Kristy didn’t just take the class money and run, and they arrange to start a week from Monday. What? Has the entire preschool planning board just been waiting around for the class to finish up? They hang up and Kristy starts feeling uneasy about taking care of a baby, even though, let’s face it, it ain’t like the parents around here are doing such a stellar job.
Chapter 6! Did you know that taking care of a baby isn’t exactly the same as taking care of a baby AND a four-year-old? Kristy sure didn’t! It isn’t as though she’s ever taken care of four-year-old Jamie Newton and his infant sister before!
Jenny, as usual, doesn’t do anything particularly bratty - not outside of run-of-the-mill four-year-old bratty, anyway - but I’m sure Kristy will tell the Cult all about how Jenny mercilessly attempted to drown Andrea in a vat of pasta when Jenny knocks over a bowl of spaghetti. Kristy struggles to clean it up and fix a bottle while holding Andrea in one arm, because you’re certainly never allowed to, say, set the child down while you’re bent over scrubbing the floor. Her arm finally goes numb while Andrea snorfs down the bottle (only then? Shit, I’d have dropped her out of exhaustion a half hour ago), but Kristy doesn’t want to bother her by adjusting. Because babies detonate if you move a muscle while they’re eating. I think maybe Kristy needs to take this class again.
In a staggering display of genius, Kristy finally plops her in the bouncer seat AFTER all the work’s done, but Mom of the Year forgot to burp her. It’s okay, Kristy. Mrs. Salem probably would have forgotten to feed her in the first place. She tries to bake cookies with Jenny, but it’s one thing after another with the baby and she never gets to, and Jenny actually doesn’t complain once. For a kid that’s a notorious brat and being constantly put off in favor of her sister, she’s being remarkably patient, in my opinion.
Mrs. P barges in just then, and Kristy tries to apologize for the mess they made by, you know, not baking cookies, but Mrs. P’s all, “Yeah, whatever, LOOK A FLIER FOR A BABY PARADE I’M GOING TO DRESS UP ANDREA AND VALIDATE MY EXISTENCE AS A MOTHER” and Kristy’s like, “Yeah, actually I was going to - “ and Mrs. P’s all, “SHUT UP VALIDATION” and Kristy’s all, “Uh-huh, so - “ and Mrs. P’s all, “OF COURSE, MY WORK IS DONE NOW THAT I GAVE BIRTH SO YOU DRESS HER UP OKAY” and Kristy’s all, “...” She thinks she doesn’t have time to get both Emily and Andrea ready for the parade, but I really have no idea what’s difficult about this. I mean, you put them in cutesy outfits and they roll along and drool and don’t do anything. And I’m guessing Andrea, at least, already has a bunch of cutesy outfits. Poor Emily, though. She got adopted by millionaires and she always seems to be dragging around in just a diaper, mumbling, “Please sir, may I have some more?” in Vietnamese.
Chapter 7! ...Jesus, that’s ALL? Unlike Kristy, Claudia actually remembers that the Newtons exist, and unlike Kristy, Claudia is a halfway decent babysitter and manages to entertain the four-year-old without totally neglecting the baby. I’m even willing to forgive her for being dressed as a watermelon while minors are entrusted to her care. I’m not willing to go so far as to recap her babysitting job, though. They go to the library and the lack of disfiguring accidents is boring.
Over at the Cult meeting, Kristy asks the BSC what she should dress Emily as, and Mary Anne reminds her she’s supposed to be getting Andrea together too. Kristy isn’t sure if her mother will even let her enter Emily (ten bucks says that when she asks, Elizabeth says, “Emily who? Oh, that Asian kid you’re always toting around?”), plus she’s afraid that if she doesn’t dress up Andrea, Mrs. P. will fire her. Because when you’re desperate for someone to watch your brats for three full weeks and you’ve already paid for them to have professional training, you’ll look for any reason to alienate the only sitters in town.
Claudia has a rare brain wave and says that Lucy Newton should be entered in the parade too, given that she fulfills the all-important criteria (“is, technically, a baby”). Jessi manages to remind them all that she’s got a baby brother, who happens to be an actual infant, unlike Emily Michelle, who is some sort of developmentally delayed second grader. No one listens to her, though, because she’s black Mary Anne interrupts her to say that Laura and Gabbie Perkins would love to be in the parade. Okay, bullshit, right there. If you can tap-dance and remember all the words to “Hard Knock Life,” you’ve got no business competing against things that don’t have teeth yet. Actually, I’m going to say that if you understand what’s going on well enough to “love” the idea of being in the parade, you’re too old for it. Laura I’ll allow, but get to the back of the line, Gabbie. Dawn throws out Eleanor Marshall too, because they’re pretty much just yelling names at this point, when suddenly Kristy “felt it coming. An idea.” Kristy, sweetie, that’s just gas.
Unfortunately, her idea is much worse than a rank one, because she thinks they should build a float and force every baby they know to ride on it. She squeals that her idea is perfect because she can get the float together AND get Andrea’s stroller ready, because building a float and supervising a bunch of babies is so much easier than decorating a second stroller.
Come Saturday, the float planning brigade is over at the Schafer-Spier Den of Hate, and Kristy is dying to tell everyone her great idea - the float will be baseball themed! They’ll stuff the kids in little uniforms and decorate the float like a baseball diamond! I hate sports, so I’m a bit meh on this, but as far as floats go, it’s tame. I mean, if I saw it at a parade, I’d probably say, “Awww,” and then I’d want a hot dog.
“ ‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ said Dawn in a flat voice. ‘That has to be the worst idea I’ve ever heard.’ ” ...Worse than the Chia Pet? Worse than Vietnam? Worse than the Fall Into Fall Festival? Have a little fucking perspective, Dawn. And a side of tact. What a bitch.
Just to make her even more unlikeable (as if it were possible), she continues, “ ‘I think we should do something really different, something nobody else in Stoneybrook would ever think about. Like Surfin’ USA!’ She smiled at all of us. ‘We’ll dress the babies in really cool-looking outfits, put them on surfboards, and decorate the float to look like the ocean.’ ”
...Uh huh. Her own idea is exactly the same as the “worst idea she’s ever heard,” except with a different sport. Everything about Dawn is morally reprehensible.
Mary Anne giggles and says she thinks they should do something a little more baby-themed, like a nursery rhyme. At least that makes sense, DAWN. But she loses me with her announcement that the rhyme should be “Three Little Kittens,” and “of course, Tigger could be on the float, too.” Because on a parade float, in public, surrounded by tons of people and grabby babies is just the place for a kitten. Also, I don’t think the audience will get that a bunch of babies dressed as cats and one actual cat is supposed to be the Three Little Kittens. (“Why is that cat clawing apart a baby dressed as a possum?”)
Stacey rightfully calls Mary Anne out on her thinly veiled excuse to get Tigger in the parade, and Mary Anne cries, because she is a jackass. Stacey backpedals and explains that dressing up babies as if they were babies is far too childish, and the judges will be looking for more sophistication. Obviously, this is why babies throw so many dinner parties and discuss yachting. Stacey thinks evening gowns and tuxedos are just the thing, and they’ll be in front of a New York City skyline, because what could be more sophisticated than New York? Other than a city where there aren’t homeless people openly pissing in the gutters, I mean.
Claudia scoffs all, “BABIES in TUXEDOS?” as if she wouldn’t dress them as Snickers bars if given half a chance, but she isn’t given half a chance, because Kristy turns on Mallory and demands to know what’s she’s thought of. Mallory, shockingly, does not suggest a shrine of a giant pierced ear. Her actual idea is even dumber, though, and even Mal knows it, because she blurts out, “IwasthinkingofdoingMistyofChincoteague.” Why the hell did she even suggest it if she knew what a stupid idea it was? “I thought we could act it out,” she says, because after babies are finished drinking brandy and playing snooker, they often engage in an amusing round of pantomime. (“Why is that cat clawing apart a baby dressed as a donkey?”)
Even Jessi, who actually shares Mallory’s, um, questionable love of horses, thinks this idea is ridiculous, and everyone breaks up laughing at how dumb everyone else’s ideas are. Finally Kristy’s like, “Hey Claudia, we heard from everybody else, how about you?” and Claudia admits that her idea is “babies from outer space,” which is apparantly stupidest of all, as if Claudia being the dumbest person in the room is somehow surprising. Oh well, at least everyone contributed a stupid idea. Everyone in the whole room. There’s certainly no girl in the corner mumbling, “Ballet? Can we do a ballet theme?”
They manage to agree that Mary Anne’s nursery rhyme idea is the least fucking inane, though they nix the kitten idea for a nursery rhyme with more characters. Kristy claims that “someone” called out the idea of the Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe, though conveniently not one of the people present can remember who said it. HER NAME IS JESSI, YOU GUYS. JESUS.
Really, Kristy thinks that no one wants to take the blame for it considering what a black hole of crap it turns into, but I find it unfair to blame the Old Woman and the Shoe for the fact that they suck. Mary Anne announces that they’re going to need more babies for this one, because they’ve only got five signed up. Uh, because the audience might look at a float with a giant shoe, a lady dressed as a grandma, and five babies on it and think “Well, I THOUGHT it was the Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe, but that’s clearly not enough children. Fuck this, I’m going to go drink and play with firearms now.”
...Okay, actually, I just looked it up because I didn’t remember the rhyme at all (if I ever knew it in the first place), and, to whit:
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.
She had so many children, she didn't know what to do.
She gave them some broth without any bread,
Then whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.
Okay, there was an old woman who lived in a shoe, who couldn’t be arsed to keep her legs closed, so she starved the kids and beat them. This is exactly the kind of fun family project I want to involve my infant in. Jesus, they should have just done that episode of Who’s the Boss? where Tony sees Angela naked in the shower.
Kristy doesn’t know who else to ask, since Emily, Squirt, Lucy Newton, Laura Perkins, and Eleanor Marshall are the only kids they know under the age of three. I guess Sari Papadakis, Skylar Korman, Marnie Barrett, and Ryan Dewitt totally don’t count. (They lamely add that Gabbie “didn’t want” to be in the parade, which is doubtful considering what an attention whore that kid is. My guess is that the parade officials asked to see proof of age and discovered that she’s actually 26.)
“Where can we get more babies?” Kristy wonders aloud. Stacey better get to work! (Rim shot.)
Wait, you guys! They totally just met a bunch of babies at their infant care class! Wait, WHAT? Those babies WEREN’T EVEN BORN YET. If the mothers popped that very day, the kids would be two weeks old now. I implore you, BSC snarkers with children - how many of you would have handed your two-week-old infant over to an eighth grader you didn’t know to go ride on a parade float? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Besides, if they just wanted to carry around immobile blobs that aren’t big enough to be seen from the sidelines, why don’t they just use a few dolls in addition to the real kids? Oh, right. Because that would be a GOOD idea, and Kristy Thomas is not in the business of those.
Of course, Mrs. Salem says yes right away, because she’d like a break from shooting powder into her children’s faces and jabbing them with diaper pins. She must throw in another two for free, too, because they come up with four more babies, for a total of nine. They have no idea how they’re going to deal with nine babies, so it’s certainly a good thing they figured that out before they asked to borrow other people’s children.
At Kristy’s next sitting job, Mrs. P. has already picked out a theme and an outfit for Andrea’s stroller: she’s going to be Queen Andrea, complete with tacky plastic crown and a wig that Kristy thinks looks like her neighbor’s cat. Kristy thinks this idea is weird, but I really don’t see how it’s any stupider than dressing up a baby as a baseball player. Kristy hopefully asks if this means she doesn’t have to do anything, and Mrs. P.’s all, “Oh, yeah, make her stroller into a coach. It better look good because I’m going to base her entire self-worth for the next 18 years on whether she wins. BYE-EEEEEE!”
Kristy actually freaks out that Mrs. P. will fire her and ruin the reputation of the club if the stroller isn’t perfect. Because when sane people hear, “Don’t hire her! She didn’t turn my baby’s stroller into a satisfactory coach!” they totally think, “My god! And I’ve been leaving my CHILDREN alone with this monster?” She gets some sparkly fabric and totally ignores Jenny, who’s trying to win back her mother’s love by singing and dancing in the parade too, and makes the “craziest” coach she can think of. Mrs. P. apparently loves it, because she has no taste. Er, if Mrs. P. came up with the idea and the costume and she’s going to be walking Andrea in the parade, I don’t even get why she didn’t just make the damn coach too.
The next chapter - hey, it’s Jessi! She’s sitting for Becca and Squirt and decides to bring them over to Claudia’s to work on the float, but when she gets there Claudia, Stacey, and Mallory are in total bitchface mode and not speaking to each other. Claud’s busy bending chicken wire into a shape of a giant shoe - as you do - and Jessi wonders how the babies are supposed to fit into the plan. Don’t they just sort of...sit around the shoe...? Why do these bitches make everything so difficult? Jessi offers Claud a suggestion, and Claud thanks her and totally ignores it, which makes sense since Ellen Miles can’t even give Jessi an actual suggestion to make (she just “made a suggestion”). Dude, that’s not even laziness, she’s just hating now.
Stacey’s mixing up paint and testing colors on cardboard, and Jessi, continuing to be not helpful in the least, says she likes the gaudy orange-red but doesn’t mention that there isn’t nearly enough paint for the Shoe that Ate Tokyo.
Mallory’s sketching costumes and toting a big bag of material, and I have no idea why she even needs to be present in Claudia’s backyard for that. She shows the material to Jessi and remarks that it was really cheap, and apparently you get what you pay for, because the material is the exact shade of pink that, when combined with Stacey’s orange-red, will cause nuclear holocaust. Jessi doesn’t think she has any room to say anything, because they’re all working so hard, but she wonders why they can’t just TALK to each other - it would make everything run so much more smoothly. Oh, you mean talking to each other BEFORE the project turns out completely crap? You mean someone should say something like, “Hey, Mallory, Stacey, those are nice colors, but maybe they don’t look good together, and by the way, Stacey, there isn’t enough paint for Frankenshoe”? Jesus, just say something or leave it alone.
Oh goody, here comes Dawn! Like the bitch she is, she swoops in toting the Newton kids, compliments the work everyone’s doing, and then starts talking shit about them behind their backs. Jessi shushes her and says everyone’s working hard, and Dawn delusionally says it’ll look fine anyway. She and Jessi pretend to make Lucy and Squirt say hello to each other in fancy lady voices (...poor Squirt) and then Mary Anne joins them with Laura Perkins. I’m so glad they get paid to sit around and treat other people’s children like dolls at a tea party.
Kristy shows up next, dragging Jenny and Andrea, because no member of the BSC is legally allowed to show up any place without a minimum of two children. Being, as she is, blunt as hell, she wants to go over there and tell them the float looks like shit, but Mary Anne convinces her not to. No, SERIOUSLY. SPEAK NOW OR FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE. I learned from a very unpleasant incident at work today that people don’t like being told that they did something all wrong AFTER all the work is done. Not to mention that one of them could, you know, offer to HELP or something.
Luckily, Kristy, Jessi, Mary Anne, and Dawn can continue being completely useless to the float-building brigade because all the babies start hitting and shrieking and barfing on each other until Claudia screeches at them to shut the hell up. Kristy, knowing that she will never be a real man unless she learns to solve her problems with fists, gets up to pop her one, but Mary Anne stops her because they don’t have time to fight while they’re trying to get the float done. Right, no time for an argument, but plenty of time to show up for a labor-intensive project with a bunch of babies so you’ll have an excuse to not actually work. Seriously, advantage: Claudia. It’s her backyard, she’s actually doing work, and the rest of them just showed up unannounced to bitch about her Shoe of the Damned and slow her down. Looking over the mess, Kristy wonders if there’s such a thing as too many babies. No, but there’s such a thing as 2 many babies.
The next chapter opening, excellently, is the stuff my fantasies are made of:
“I suppose you all think I should be apologizing for my behavior in Claud’s yard today, but to tell you the truth, I don’t think I should have to. I was only being honest. Besides, as the Marshalls’ sitter, I think I owe it to them to make sure that Eleanor looks as good as possible on the float. I can’t believe the parade is only two days away...
Maybe Dawn really did think she was being honest, but still, she did owe us an apology. Or at least she should have apologized to Mallory. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. Let me tell the story as it happened.”
HAHAHA FINALLY SOMEONE CALLS OUT DAWN ON BEING THE HEINOUS CUNT SHE IS HAHAHA VINDICATION. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. Let me tell you what a cunt she is as it happens.
Dawn’s babysitting for the Marshall girls and I want to eat Eleanor up with a spoon, she is so friggin cute. But naturally Dawn can’t be arsed to entertain her charges at home the way she’s paid to do, and she drags them out to Claudia’s to check out the Shoe of the Living Dead, which is shaping up to look like ass. Actually I’m kind of amused that for once they admit the Artist Extraordinaire didn’t create something amazing, though I don’t blame her, seeing as how Claudia always seems to get stuck with a disproportionate amount of work in their little projects (“Oh, Claudia can make all the signs/posters/scenery/etc!”). Claudia is in the middle of blaming Stacey for not using enough paint - in the grand tradition of Making Things More Difficult than They Should Be, with no particular explanation as to why they can’t just mix up some more - but Stacey thinks the problem is that the shoe looks like something the dog squatted and left on the rug.
Dawn asks where the kids are going to sit - no, seriously, when you’re borrowing other people’s children, shouldn’t you plan something like this ahead of time so you don’t end up with a safety issue, oh brilliant babysitter? Kristy says she’s got it figured out, but Claudia interrupts to say that SHE built the float, so she’s going to do it her way. Kristy mildly asks what her way might be, but Claudia - and this comes as a shock - has no idea. Er...what’s the point of throwing a snit about doing things your way when you don’t even have an idea? More to the point, how many different configurations can there be? They sit on the float around Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Shoe. That’s...about it, I think.
By now the other babysitters have shown up toting various stolen children, so Kristy suggests a dress rehearsal to see how the costumes and float work together. They stuff the babies into Mallory’s monstrous pink clown outfits, plop them next to the giant orange blob, and stand back to check out the nauseating effect. Charming.
Stacey sarcastically snaps at Mallory for picking material that looks like hell with the paint, but seeing as how we saw her mixing that shade of paint AFTER Mal bought the material, she can feel free to shut the fuck up. Kristy tells them to shut it, but proceeds to put her foot in it by asking Mal where the babysitters’ costumes are. Mal durrrrrs that she didn’t think of that and doesn’t have enough time to make them now in any case. Well, really, complete outfits for nine babies AND seven adults? That’s a damn expensive lot of material and a damn lot of sewing to pawn off on one person. That is a little ridiculous, seeing as how everyone probably could have put together their own outfits with a little thrift shopping. The need for custom-made electric pink clownsuits escapes me at this juncture.
Stacey doesn’t see what difference it makes, since the Shoe of the Damned looks like a big lumpy uterus anyway. Wait, DAWN’S the one who needs to apologize? Because I see Stacey behaving like a tremendous cunt for no particular reason. Claudia snaps back and the babies start screaming, and Dawn mumbles that they’re probably upset that they looks so stupid in their costumes. Okay, I admit it - HILARIOUS. Mallory bursts into tears and then shoves Jessi for trying to comfort her, because even Jessi’s best friend hates her. They all piss and moan for a while, then Dawn ends up stomping back to the Marshalls’ and putting Eleanor in a little party dress and pigtails, and why they didn’t just dress the kids that way to begin with remains a mystery to this day.
The morning of the parade is bright and sunny, but Kristy doesn’t feel bright and sunny. She’s worried about the parade: “What would Mrs. P. do if Andrea didn’t win a prize?” Sell her to a sweatshop, maybe? I mean...I’m genuinely concerned at how concerned Kristy is about this. Maybe child services should have been called at some point, is all I’m saying.
If you were wondering exactly how this float was going to travel in the parade, you obviously aren’t familiar with these books. “Me and the Junk Bucket are at your disposal,” Charlie announces. “Chauffeur, float-puller, and handyman.” Don’t forget “loser,” “virgin,” and “desperate,” there, Chuck. He drives Kristy over to the Prezziosos’ to help Andrea get ready, but...wait, all she does is get Andrea dressed and push the stroller coach to the front yard. What. The fuck. Mrs. P. is incapable of dressing her own child without having a teenager drive all the way across town and do it for her. Can these parents even wipe their own asses without hiring the BSC to do it for them? I think that if the series had gone on another fifty books or so, the mothers of Stoneybrook probably would have hired the club to just go ahead and carry and give birth to the children too.
In a staggering show of efficiency, Kristy goes all the way back home to get dressed herself and get Emily ready. She slaps together an old woman costume out of a long skirt and a frumpy blouse in five minutes, so I have no idea why she wanted Mallory to hand-sew her a full-body clownsuit. Even Emily, who has an IQ of about 8, is smart enough to start screaming the minute Kristy tries to stuff her in her outfit. Watson and Elizabeth, in another award-winning parental performance, don’t even question why their child is dressed like a trained monkey as Kristy stomps out the door dragging Charlie’s manhood behind her.
When they arrive at Claudia’s, even Charlie, who has a sucking black hole where his self-respect should be, is horrified to pull Shoezilla (which has conveniently grown tentacles, or as Claudia calls them, “shoelaces”) behind the Junk Bucket. He makes a great show of putting on a big hat and mirrored sunglasses so that no one recognizes him, even though I doubt anyone would recognize him anyway. I can’t imagine he meets many people while he’s sitting in his car twelve hours a day waiting for Kristy.
They show up to their meeting place, and because the babysitters are legally obligated to adhere to their single personality trait, Dawn is dressed like a beachcomber, Mary Anne is dressed like Raggedy Ann, Stacey is wearing a New York sweatshirt, and Jessi is in a ballet outfit. Oh, COME ON. The babies look equally stupid, except Eleanor, who just looks out of place in her cute outfit. They all sit around pouting (the babysitters, not the babies...the babies are way more mature), even though it’s not like any of them put in a modicum of effort. Jessi and Mallory almost make up by discussing the parademaster’s horse in semipornographic terms ("LOOK AT THOSE SWEATY HEAVING FLANKS"), but luckily they remember they hate each other just in time.
The babies - surprise - are spread around the Shoe from the Black Lagoon, variously on blankets or bouncers. Mrs. Salem requested that Kristy specifically take care of her twins, so of course she holds her two-year-old sister and just plops the newborn babies on the ground in front of her ON THE MOVING FLOAT. Christ almighty. (Claudia did build a “guard railing” around it, but it seems to me that it’s either got to be high enough that setting the babies behind it would put them completely out of sight of the crowd - thus rendering the entire float pointless in addition to ugly - or it’s low enough that they can still fall over the edge. I remain unimpressed.)
The parade finally starts a-rolling, and Kristy notices that the crowd, which is clapping and cheering for the floats before them, has suddenly been struck dumb with unabashed horror. Luckily, Claudia has helpfully provided signs on either side so that they can still tell what the float is supposed to be: “The one that hung from my side of the float said, THEIR WAS AN OLD WOMMAN WHO LIVED IN A SHO. The other one said, THAIR WAS AN OLD WOMANN WHO LIVED IN A SHUE. Nobody had had time to check Claud’s spelling.”
FOR CHRIST. I can’t decide who’s more at fault here - Claudia, for painting the signs without asking for help even though she knows she’s a fucking idiot; or the others, for not insisting on checking them even though they know she’s a fucking idiot. Or Claudia, for not even being smart enough to realize that if the same word is spelled two different ways, at least one of them is wrong; or the others, for always giving Claudia the one task that she can’t possibly do. Or the others, for claiming that they “didn’t have time” to read two goddamn sentences. Or Claudia, for making it to the eighth grade and still being unable to spell a four-letter word. I hope Cthulshoe BURSTS INTO FLAME.
Or the next best thing, which is that they get stuck behind a bagpipe band. Er, why is there a bagpipe band in a baby parade? However, the bagpipes aren’t so loud that they drown out the taunts of the high school version of the Badd Boyz, who have spotted the trademark Junk Bucket and will flush Charlie’s head in the toilet during gym class tomorrow for the crime of being seen in public. Er...why are a bunch of high school guys even AT a baby parade? Everything about this chapter is a total mystery.
I get incredibly excited when Kristy says “Then the worst thing in the world happened,” because I had visions of the lumpy mountain collapsing on top of a bunch of strangers’ borrowed newborn babies (is it sick, that’s where my head goes?) but all that happens is a couple of high school girls spot Charlie and start giggling. Why does Kristy care at all? It’s not like Charlie’s balls would descend long enough for him to refuse to take her places anymore.
The parade crawls along, the babies are beginning to cry and barf and attempt to crawl over the edge, Eleanor’s dress is smudged with red paint (huh?), and Kristy has had it. As have I. Let’s wind this fucker up.
They realize just how badly they sucked as they watch the other floats roll in, including a Star Wars one, a Wizard of Oz one, and a Goodnight Moon one. It suddenly occurs to Kristy that Andrea’s coach stroller isn’t as gaudy as she thought, either, especially compared to the baby DRESSED AS RAMBO, who wins third prize and emancipation from his legally insane parents. This entire parade is making Mrs. Arnold look totally normal.
Kristy grumps through the entire awards ceremony and worries that they might win third prize and she’ll have to go up there in her old woman getup. Wait, she actually thinks they might win third prize? Compared to the actual working merry-go-round float? Did the paint fumes coming off the Great Red Shoe kill off some brain cells? They don’t win a damn thing, of course, but Queen Andrea manages to scrape a win in the stroller division and avoid being abandoned in a dumpster. The sitters are relieved it’s over, the parents are relieved that their children are still alive (no, it actually says that), and Charlie’s relieved he can fade back into SHS obscurity when Kristy tells him to chuck The Shoe from the Black Lagoon at the dump. He probably pees on it and sets it on fire too, and I’m okay with that.
Kristy starts thinking when she gets home - the float didn’t work because they didn’t work together! They all thought they knew what was best and did their own thing! She'd like to buy the world some coke a Coke and live in harmony! Everybody calls each other and makes up, of course, and tactfully don’t mention that the whole thing is Claudia’s fault for making such an ugly goddamn shoe.
In the denouement meeting, they all discuss how cults need to work together, while Jessi and Mallory entertain themselves by tearing perfume samples out of a magazine and rubbing them all over themselves. Jessi thinks that this makes them smell really rich - “Like what you’d wear if you lived in Beverly Hills or something” - because in Jessi’s world, the upper-class have the servants rub fragrance on them straight off a cardboard insert in Seventeen magazine. It all just goes to show, no matter what happens, Ellen Miles really fucking hates Jessi.