Part-time Poppins:

Fowl Play

How do You React to it?

As a nanny, I take on many roles throughout a "typical" day: caretaker, nurturer, educator...and protector from inappropriate events. The other day, as I was driving Justin to his summer camp, I experienced what no nanny--or anyone, for that matter--wants to experience, especially with children in the car: the near accident. Driving to camp was mundane enough...that is, of course, until a car shot off of the freeway exit ramp to my right, sped across three lanes, cut in front of me and then proceeded to come to a complete stop at my green light. It all happened so fast: one minute I was counting "two plus three plus one plus sixty-five" and participating in a Pokemon spelling bee, and the next moment, I was confronting a driving nightmare.

After testing the anti-lock brakes to their limit and blaring the horn to get the vehicle to continue to move forward, I saw that the passenger in the car was waving at me in a "funny" way. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw the other vehicles flying up behind us. These vehicles were still traveling at an appropriate rate of speed with the knowledge that a green light lay ahead of them. Accident scenarios flooded my brain, and only after many long moments of horn honking did the vehicle in front of us finally begin to move forward. The license plate was out-of-state and as I began to pass the vehicle, I saw that the passenger was quite old. I assumed that the driver was just as old and hoped that this wasn't their regular driving regime. With my heart thumping loudly into my throat, I tried to pass the car, which had ever-so-slowly eased into a turn lane and then maintained our same speed. And then, as the car began to ease back out of that lane and almost drift into our vehicle once again, soliciting another horn blare from our vehicle, I saw the unmistakable vision of one lone finger bidding me adieu.

I was immediately panic-stricken: what if the children see this? How should I react? Should I tell the children that person only HAS one finger....that the other four were lost in some horrific accident, or that they were born that way? Should I turn it into a moral? "The person is trying to show us that's what happens when you're not considerate to your brother?" No, too ghastly. Or should I instead hope that they didn't see this gesture? Should I just ignore that car altogether and say that I "just felt like testing out the horn?" I know that, eventually, the children will see this, and other gestures, but at such tender ages, I'm not prepared for them to see it...not yet.

In my car, I am transporting the most precious cargo there is. I do not want to have any involvement with another person's "road rage," but accident-evading defensive driving is part of the job description...as well as part of my quasi-maternal instinct to protect them. Thankfully, the children are only amused by the incident and do not notice that I am trembling from the near accident.

"What was that car doing? Why was he just sitting at the green light? And why were you honking like that?" Justin asks, laughing.

"Well..." I try to regain my composure. "That car...well, it just stopped at our green light....and that's just not a safe thing to do. Now, honestly, who stops at a green light?" I say the last sentence with an English accent, hoping that my humor will cover up my fear.

Justin laughs. I am thankful that he is at a developmental stage where he is eager to agree with adult figures and show his knowledge and maturity to his younger brother.

"Yeah, really! Who stops at a green light? I mean, he was at that green light for a long time!"

Zachary begins to laugh now, too. "Yeah! Who stops at a green light?" Justin shoots him a funny look, but the disaster has been averted. I am still shaky when I drop Justin off at his camp. While my sense of security is slightly rattled, Justin's sense of justice is still intact.

"I would've called the police," he declares, as he exits the car. I smile at him.

"Yes," I say, "if you two weren't in here...I think I might have." Justin laughs.

The Birds and the...

While the children thought that this incident was amusing, I was still concerned about the situation. It was important to me that I told their parents about the experience, and later that night, I de-briefed Colleen about Justin and Zachary's interesting journey to Justin's summer camp. This is no situation that any nanny ever wants to have to be in. Even though there was no actual accident, the incident itself was unsettling enough. I approached the subject as gingerly as one of the boys would if they were negotiating for more Nintendo time or perhaps another scoop of ice cream. The good news? The horn and anti-lock brakes were in incredible working order. The bad? I had almost needed one of Catherine's diapers for myself...as less than six inches had separated us from the car that had cut us off.

Colleen later recounted the story to an equally astonished James.

"The people in the car even gave her the bird," she told him, unaware that Justin was lingering within earshot.

"What's the bird?" he'd immediately piped up. I've learned that the earshot of a young child is one hundred times more acute than that of an adult when it involves inappropriate language, presents and desserts. There is some mechanism that enlarges the ear drum for that split second of time, thus leaving the parent or nanny in a rather difficult predicament, as an adult's ability to gracefully ease out of such a situation isn't as finely tuned.

Justin is very perceptive, very intelligent and has a unique ability to know when you're not telling the truth. Colleen, being a parent of three and very quick on her feet, told Justin that "the bird" was an "angry beak face." When Colleen later told me about this close call, she showed me how she made a grimace with her upper lip and lower jaw, thrusting out her teeth and cupping her hands on either side of her face. This expression was more wolverine than bird--and so funny and so unexpected that it later made me laugh out of nowhere: when I was sitting in my car in rush hour traffic; at the grocery store, buying day-old bread; at a restaurant, gazing at the menu...just about anywhere and everywhere, much to the chagrin of anyone in my general vicinity. I can just picture Justin becoming particularly angry with a classmate and resorting to the "angry beak face..." Ah, if only I could be there for the grand opening of the "angry beak face" response!

To Beak or Not to Beak?

I know that it is inevitable that the children will see rude gestures and innocently repeat them. As a nanny, I have the common sense to not draw attention to those gestures, but I lack the ability to gauge when--and how--to explain such matters. These skills come with time. The "green light incident," as it is now referred to, resulted in benign amusement and a few deep breaths on my part. As I go over the incident again and again in my head, I rehearse what I would have told them, had they seen the gesture. And when I draw a blank, I realize how difficult it truly is to partake in raising children...How do I protect them from people who use poor judgment and put us in the direct path of danger? How do I act as the voice of reason when another person is frightening me so much because they have put me in such a path? How do I effectively and constructively communicate my feelings to the party that is endangering us? And how do I not convey any of these sentiments to the children, thus ensuring that they still feel safe and protected? I know that these--and other--concerns will continue to plague me, but I will have to answer them as I go...and hopefully I'll be creative enough to come up with an answer of the "angry beak face" caliber.

And now, every time I see someone partake in that distasteful gesture, I shall not be offended; instead, I shall remember that face and exercise a considerable amount of restraint as I contemplate: To Beak or Not to Beak?