It started with my baby sitter, Barbara. I was 9 years old and the terror
of every sitter my parents engaged. Barbara was the latest in a long
string of young girls who would sit for me once and then refuse to come
back.

I gave Barbara the Treatment, too. The issue was usually about what sort
of game we were going to play to keep me occupied and out of trouble.
Keeping me occupied was the price of peace. I tried all the usual things
on Barbara, too: I didn’t want to do this, I didn’t want to do that;
anything she proposed was something I didn’t want to do. I gave her no
peace until, finally, sleepiness overtook me and she put me to bed. I
figured that was the last of Barbara.

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I don’t think Jennifer has ever liked me.

Jennifer is about 23, with long black hair. She is very
pretty, and she accomplishes her beauty with only a
little dark grey eyeliner. She would be a knockout with
a little more makeup. She also dresses very conservatively
for someone her age, often with a jacket and knee or below
length skirts, and very low heels. She walks with a slouch,
not with the confident walk of someone so lovely. And she
applies hair spray and brushes her long hair in public, an
odd thing to do I think.

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