I have officially become Crazy Au Pair. But it's not my fault. They drove me to this point.
Me: the crazy, child-hating Wicked Witch Au Pair; or,
what I'd like to do with these bratty children.
Yesterday I arrived at 2 pm at The Grandmother's house to take him home and do more homework with the boy. We needed to read 6 chapters. But of course, he couldn't be bothered to get his lazy butt off the sofa and stop watching TV so I just went to his apartment to clean the kitchen, and do my #1 activity as an au pair: wasting time.
He finally showed up about 20 minutes later and started reading (after asking if I would read to him again and I said no, he's 13, not 3, and he is perfectly capable of reading a book by himself, and if he's not then this would be good practice for him). Then a while later he took a 20 minute bathroom break. Then he read some...then another 20 minute bathroom break...then some more reading...then getting a snack...then some more reading...then a 30 minute conversation with The Girl's tutor...so when I left him at around 6 to go to the store and fix dinner, he was only a few pages into his 3rd chapter of the day. I asked him to finish it and write his summary, then we could take a break and eat dinner, then finish the other 3. Hour later: I come in to see where he's at and he is watching a movie. I ask about his summary: didn't do it. It was everything I could do not to flip and somehow convinced him to scratch up a hack job summary that probably sucks (but what to I care, I hope he fails the damn thing) just to get me off his back and back to his movie.
Dinner time came, he gave an attitude and never came down. And hour later I went upstairs and said dinner time was over, he had a break, it was time to keep working. And of course, more attitude. I told him I wasn't staying all night, I had plans, we needed to get this done now, etc etc. More attitude. And then I snapped.
I told him he had had all morning and half the afternoon to sit on his lazy butt and watch TV and was acting like a jackass (hey, if he's old enough to read the word in To Kill A Mockingbird, he's old enough to be called it) and I was sick of his attitude and just because he didn't have any friends to hang out with doesn't mean I don't either and that I couldn't wait til next Thursday when he gets on a plane and I never have to see him again and him and his homework are no longer my problem. Slammed the door. Banged pots around in the kitchen. Broke a glass. Mumbled about how much I hate my f-ing job and babysitting an f-ing 13-year old who was too pathetic to read a damn book by himself, loud enough, intentionally, so that he could probably hear through the open windows. When his movie was done he came downstairs and just sat in the living room. I said: "If your going to sit on your lazy butt all night could you at least do it with a book in front of your face or would that just be too much to ask?" Of course, it was.
So I texted The Mom and told her I was wasting my time with her son and when would she be home because I had someplace to be. She texted me back and said I could leave if I wanted to. I wanted to. Haven't heard from her since, I'm assuming I'm supposed to go in sometime today but I sure don't know when.
Maybe I was too harsh. He'll survive. Hope I haven't been fired. But good riddance. I guess the homestretch is the hardest, right?