Mary Anne checked the calendar in the record book. “You and Stacey are free,” she announced.
I looked at Stacey. “You go,” I said. “Charlotte really likes you. You’re her favorite sitter.”
“Thanks,” said Stacey. “That’s great. I haven’t seen her in a while.”
I called Dr. Johanssen back to tell her that Stacey would be sitting. Then we took a few more phone calls.
When the phone finally stopped ringing, Kristy said, “You guys, I have an idea.”
I raised an eyebrow. Kristy has more ideas than anyone I know.
“Yeah?” said Stacey, sounding slightly suspicious.
“See, I thought last week went pretty well,” Kristy began.
Kristy was referring to the days before her mother’s wedding when, believe it or not, the members of the Baby-sitters Club had taken care of fourteen children. What had happened was that all these friends and relatives of Kristy’s mother and Watson Brewer had shown up to help them get ready for the wedding. Only they brought their kids along, since they were coming from out of town and were planning to stay until the wedding was over. Mrs. Thomas knew the kids would just be in the way while the adults were trying to cook and stuff, so the club members sat for all of them for five days straight at Kristy’s house. It really had gone well. We were very proud of ourselves.
“I think we did a good job,” I agreed cautiously.
“Well, I got to thinking,” Kristy went on. “Here it is, summer vacation. We’re out of school, the children we sit for are out of school, and at least until next month when two of us are going away, there isn’t much to do around here. In other words, there are a lot of kids at loose ends.”
“Yeah?” said Stacey for the second time. We all wanted Kristy to get to the point.
“So how about a play group?”
“A what?” asked Dawn.
“A play group,” Kristy repeated. “Sort of like day camp, except shorter. We could easily run one this month. It’d be great for the kids.”
“But when would we baby-sit?” asked Mary Anne.
“Oh, in the afternoons and evenings. And weekends,” Kristy added. “We’d just hold the play group a few mornings a week. It could be outdoors, in somebody’s yard, just like last week at my house. We could tell all our regular customers about it, and they could send their kids over any time they wanted. We could charge, say, five dollars per kid per morning. That’s a bargain for our clients, and even divided five ways, the money should be good for us, since chances are there wouldn’t be enough jobs for every single one of us to be sitting if we weren’t holding the play group.”
“It would be kind of fun,” I said. “Just think, all the kids we sit for would get to know each other.”
“Yes!” said Mary Anne. “We can ask Jamie Newton, the Pikes, Jenny Prezzioso….”
“The Barrett kids,” added Dawn.
“Nina and Eleanor Marshall,” I suggested.
“Charlotte,” Stacey offered.
Kristy’s eyes were gleaming. She was glad we liked her idea. “As soon as we get it all worked out, we’ll call our clients,” she said excitedly.
“We can entertain the kids just the way we did last week,” I pointed out. “Art projects, stories, games.”
“Their parents will like that,” said Kristy thoughtfully.
“Hey!” I exclaimed. “Remember when Jamie Newton had to spend one morning with all the kids last week? His mother said she thought it would be good for him because it would help him learn to get along with other children. Maybe other parents will like that, too.”
“Good point,” said Kristy. “Hey, Mary Anne, maybe you better take notes. We might want to remember this stuff.”
Mary Anne began scribbling in the notebook.
“Where should we hold the play group?” Kristy asked. “We can’t have it at my house. We’ll be moving soon. We better not have it at your house, either, Mary Anne, since your dad works. I think the parents would want to know that an adult was around.”
“Good point,” said Dawn. “I guess I’m out, then. Mom’s still looking for a job. She could find one any day.”
“I’d love to have it here,” I said, “but I don’t know. Mimi has seemed awfully tired lately.”
“Is she all right?” asked Mary Anne quickly.
“Fine. She just lies down a lot.”
“My house would be okay, I think,” said Stacey. “And Mom is usually around. I’ll have to check with her, but I’m sure it’ll be all right.”
“Stacey’s house?” Kristy asked the rest of us.
We nodded.
Our newest business had a home.
As soon as Mrs. McGill gave Stacey permission to use their house, my friends and I decided to spend one afternoon talking to our clients about the play group in person. We thought the door-to-door approach would be nicer than just a flyer stuck in a mailbox, and nicer even than a phone call. So after lunch one day, the five of us set off.
We did have flyers with us. We had spent a long time writing the flyer, making sure it included all the information parents would need to know. We planned to hand them out in person, though, and then stay around to answer questions.
This is what our flyer looked like:
SUMMER PLAY GROUP
Give your kids a treat!
Art projects, stories, games!
Come to the Baby-sitters Club
Summer Play Group!
Place: Stacey McGill’s backyard
612 Fawcett Avenue
Time: 9:00–12:30—Mondays,
Wednesdays, Fridays during July
Cost: $5 per child per morning
For further details, call:
THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB
555-3231
Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, 5:30–6:00
SUMMER PLAY GROUP:
the unique alternative to baby-sitting.
Our first stop was Jamie Newton’s house. We found four-year-old Jamie, his mom, and his baby sister, Lucy, in the front yard.
“Hi-hi!” called Jamie when he saw us. “Are you here to baby-sit me?”
“No,” I said, laughing. “Five baby-sitters! What would you do with five baby-sitters, Jamie?”
“Have lots of fun,” he replied cheerfully.
“Hi, Mrs. Newton,” said Kristy. “Hiya, Lucy.”
Lucy is only about seven months old. She’s adorable. She can sit up, and she knows how to crawl. Not very fast yet, but she’s getting there. She gave us a big grin, and we could see that a couple of new teeth were coming in.
Lucy was sitting on a blanket next to Mrs. Newton, teething on a cookie and playing with a colorful set of plastic rings.
“Hello, girls,” said Mrs. Newton. “Goodness, it’s the whole club. What’s going on?”
“This,” replied Kristy, and she handed Jamie’s mother one of our flyers.
Mrs. Newton read it carefully. “What a wonderful idea!” she said when she was finished. “You certainly are ambitious, girls.”
“We thought it would be fun,” said Kristy.
“And a good experience for the children,” added Dawn, trying to sound adult.
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” replied Mrs. Newton. “Jamie starts nursery school in September. This will be perfect for him. He’s not around kids his own age much, and I’m afraid school will be sort of a shock for him. If he can at least get used to sharing before he goes to school, that’ll be a step in the right direction.”
“Great!” I said. “So we can count on Jamie? I mean, he doesn’t have to come every time. You don’t even have to let us know whether you’ll bring him or not. But you’re interested?”
“Definitely. He’ll be there.”
The other club members and I managed to wait until we were safely out of sight of the Newtons’ house before we let out little shrieks of excitement.
“Let’s go to the Pikes’ next,” suggested Mary Anne. “Then we can go to the Prezziosos’ and th
e Barretts’. They’re all in that neighborhood.”
We quickened our pace.
“I bet the Pikes will want to send Claire and Margo,” said Stacey as we walked along, “and maybe Vanessa and Nicky. Mallory and the triplets are probably too old.” (There are eight Pike kids.)
“I’m sure Mrs. Barrett will want to send Buddy and Suzi,” said Dawn thoughtfully, “but I don’t know about Marnie. I’d love to have her, but she’s not even two years old. That’s kind of little.”
What nobody was saying (or at least what no one except Mary Anne was saying) was that we hoped Mrs. Prezzioso wouldn’t want to send four-year-old Jenny, either. Mary Anne’s the only one who likes her. If you ask me, Jenny is a big fat brat. With a capital B.
Kristy rang the Pikes’ doorbell, and Mallory answered it. Mallory, the oldest Pike, just had a birthday, and is eleven. She’s very good with her younger brothers and sisters. I bet she’ll be a baby-sitter herself one day.
“Hi, Mal,” said Kristy. “Is your mom here?”
“Yeah, she’s out back. Hold on a sec.” Mallory yelled for her mother, then let us into the living room. “What’s up?” she asked. “How come you’re all here? … Did one of the triplets do something?”
I giggled. “No. Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Usually, one of the triplets has done something. And when you open the door and see a whole posse of baby-sitters, you think …” Mallory shrugged.
“You think trouble?” asked Kristy.
“Yup.”
My friends and I talked to Mrs. Pike and left one of our flyers with her. Mallory seemed interested in the play group, but before we had left, she walked off glumly.
We looked questioningly at Mrs. Pike. “Is Mallory okay?” asked Mary Anne.
Mrs. Pike nodded. “She’s at a funny age, though. She thinks she’s too old for some things and too young for most others. I’m sure she’d like to come to the play group, but feels she’s too grown-up for it.”
“Maybe,” said Kristy, “she could come for free and be our helper. I don’t think we can afford to pay her. But if she wanted to be a sort of baby-sitter-in-training, we’d love to have her. She’s always a help.”
“That’s a lovely idea!” said Mrs. Pike. “I’ll talk to her about it. I know she’ll be delighted. And,” she added as the members of the club were leaving, “I’ll probably be sending Claire, Margo, and maybe Nicky to the play group every now and then.”
“Great!” we said. “Thanks, Mrs. Pike.”
The next stop was the Barretts’, but they weren’t home, so we left a flyer in their mailbox. The three Barretts are Buddy (eight, and a good friend of Nicky Pike), Suzi (four), and Marnie (one, but closer to two). Their parents are separated and Mr. Barrett has moved out, so the kids are having a rough time. Sometimes they can be a handful, but basically they’re nice.
We went on to the Prezziosos’. I’m sure Kristy, Stacey, and Dawn were praying that no one would be home there, either. I know I was. But when Mary Anne rang the bell, Mrs. Prezzioso answered it.
She was all dressed up, which wasn’t unusual. She likes for her family to look as if they’re getting ready to pose for a fashion magazine.
“Hello, girls. What may I do for you?” asked Mrs. P. primly. And then, before one of us could answer, she dropped her voice and whispered, “Our little angel is asleep, so we must keep our voices down.” (The little angel is Jenny.)
Mary Anne stepped forward. We had asked her to do all the talking at Jenny’s house. “We wanted to let you know,” she whispered, “that we’re starting a play group.”
“A what?” Mrs. P. leaned over, cupping a hand around one ear.
“A play group. And we think it would be perfect for Jenny.”
“You think what?”
“We think it would be perfect for Jenny. Here, take a flyer.”
“A what?”
“A flyer.” Mary Anne handed her one.
Mrs. P. skimmed it. “I suppose the art projects would be a bit messy, wouldn’t they?” Mrs. P. was holding the flyer by one corner as if it were a wet painting that was going to leap onto her white suit and smudge it up.
“Well, some might be,” I admitted, since I was in charge of art projects. “But … um—”
“But we provide smocks,” Kristy broke in.
“That’s right—smocks,” I repeated.
“It sounds nice. I’ll have to think about it,” Mrs. P. said.
We couldn’t wait to get out of there. “Okay, call us if you have questions,” said Kristy.
We went to a few more houses, and then we gathered in my room.
“You know,” said Kristy, “I hadn’t thought about things like smocks. I wonder if we’re forgetting anything else.”
“Let’s see,” said Mary Anne, flipping through the notes she’d been making. “Two picnic tables will be set up in Stacey’s yard. We’ll each bring our own Kid-Kit with us, so we’ll have books and games and puzzles and stuff. Claudia, what kinds of art supplies do you have? Maybe we should buy some things.”
“It might be a good idea,” I said. “I don’t want to use up all my materials. And I don’t have any construction paper or crayons right now. Just newsprint and pastels.”
“Well,” Stacey spoke up, “there’s money in the treasury, and I guess that’s what it’s for.”
“Right,” agreed Kristy. “So if we buy some art supplies, Mary Anne, what shape are we in?”
“I think we’re all set,” she said.
And I couldn’t help adding, “Ready to roll!”
Our play group would begin in just a few days.
On Sunday evening, the night before the first session of the Baby-sitters Club’s play group, my parents went out to dinner. They left Mimi and Janine and me on our own, which we don’t mind at all. Mimi usually fixes a special meal—not a Japanese meal, but one that we like and don’t get to eat very often.
As soon as Mom and Dad had left, Mimi and I went into the kitchen.
“What shall I fix tonight, my Claudia?” Mimi asked.
“Mmm,” I said thoughtfully. “We could have spaghetti and meatballs, or we could have breakfast-at-dinner, or—”
“Or I could prepare tiny pizzas.”
I laughed. “Mini-pizzas, Mimi,” I said. “They’re called mini-pizzas.”
“That I will never be able to say,” replied Mimi, “for Minnie is the mouse. It does not make sense.”
“Mouse pizzas!” I exclaimed.
It was Mimi’s turn to laugh. “I have an idea,” she said. “Would you like a special breakfast-at-dinner? I could prepare waffles in the waffle iron.”
(Mimi pronounces iron the way it’s spelled: eye-ron.)
“Oh, yum! We haven’t done that in months! Do we have toppings?” I asked.
“We have butter and syrup and whipped cream and fresh strawberries.”
“Oh, boy!”
“Would you please ask your sister if she wants waffles, my Claudia?”
“Okay,” I replied. I knew Janine would want waffles. She always goes along with whatever the rest of us have decided.
I found Janine in her room. She was in front of her computer, naturally. A future physicist has to work hard.
“Do you want waffles for dinner?” I asked her abruptly. “That’s what Mimi and I chose.”
Janine looked up from the keyboard. “You already chose waffles?” she repeated. (I’d just said so, hadn’t I?) “Sure. Waffles are fine. How come you didn’t ask me what I wanted?”
“I’m asking you now.”
“They’re fine,” Janine said again. Sighing, she turned back to the computer.
I stuck my tongue out at her and ran downstairs.
“Waffles are fine!” I told Mimi.
“Very good. Would you set the kitchen table, please? I will start making the batter.”
We went to work. I love to help Mimi in the kitchen. I don’t know why Janine doesn’t. Of course, we hardly ever remember
to ask her.
Soon the table was set. I poured glasses of orange juice and spooned out little bowls of leftover fruit salad. Then I called Janine to the table.
Mimi had put the waffle eye-ron by her plate. She would make the waffles right at the table. The eye-ron was big and old-fashioned. I loved to watch Mimi work it. She would turn it on, then test it with water to see if it was hot enough. If the drops of water bounced off the skillet, it was ready. Then Mimi would brush it with butter, pour on some batter, and close the lid. Hissss! Somehow she always knew just when to lift the lid for a perfect golden brown waffle.
Mimi started cooking and we started eating.
When we’d each eaten one waffle, Mimi began again.
“Boy,” I said, as the eye-ron hissed, “do I ever have a big day tomorrow.”
Janine looked up with interest. “What are you going to do?”
“First of all,” I said, “our play group starts in the morning.”
“I trust you are prepared for it, both financially and phy—”
“We’re all set,” I said, cutting Janine off.
“Tell us again how your play group will work, my Claudia,” said Mimi.
“Well,” I said, “it’s kind of like a nursery school, and kind of like a day camp. It will run from nine till twelve-thirty on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. Anyone who wants to bring their kids by for the morning is welcome to. We won’t have an attendance list or anything. We just plan to keep things … um …”
“Flexible?” suggested Janine.
“Loose,” I said, frowning at her.
“Oh.”
“Anyway,” I went on, “we’ve told the Newtons, the Pikes, the Barretts, and all our regular customers about the play group. And we’ll have arts and crafts and story time and stuff. I think everyone will have fun.”
“And, Janine, what do you plan to do tomorrow?” asked Mimi.
Janine took a large bite of waffle. “The usual,” she replied. “School.”
Claudia and Mean Janine Page 2