Most teenage girls start their careers in the wonderful world of babysitting. Ah, yes. I myself remember those days. Without much experience, they are thrown into a lion’s den of soiled diapers, temper tantrums, and overbearing parents. And let’s be honest, the parents are usually worse than the kids. We all have our babysitting horror stories. Like the night I kept hearing a knock on the front door and my paranoia led me to believe that it was The Boogeyman, so I hid under the bed of the four-year-old that I was watching and fell asleep under the bed. And that’s where the parent’s frantically found me when they got home.
If that’s not bad, wait ’till you read these. Here are 16 babysitting horror stories, as told by babysitters themselves.
16. When someone kidnapped Kathy… but not really.
“Maybe the worst day of my life: I was around 15ish, babysitting my little sister who was a toddler (she could walk and open doors at this point). My parents were making a quick run to the store and left me in charge.
After a few minutes of watching TV, I noticed that it was a little too quiet. I checked her room and she wasn’t there. I checked everywhere else with growing alarm, looking and calling for her, but she was nowhere to be found.
There was a playground across the street that she liked, so I sprinted over there to look for her. At this point I was about 90% adrenaline and panic. Still no sign of her. There was a group of three grade schoolers there, so I described her and asked them if they’d seen her around.
One of the boys told me he saw a girl matching her description get into a blue car. We don’t own a blue car, nor do any of the family friends.
I can’t adequately describe the feelings of dread, panic, and hopelessness that completely overwhelmed me. I sprinted from one end of the block to the other, hoping to catch a glimpse of this blue car. I ran through and around the adjoining elementary school, hoping maybe she was there. Never mind that I’d already been told she had gotten into a stranger’s car… I was completely irrational and was hoping that I had misheard that kid or something. Or maybe please, god she was back.
After some kind of eternity of this hell, I ran back home to call 911. By this time, my parents were back, and lo and behold, my sister was with them! It turns out she did open a door and wander off… into the garage because she wanted to go along to the store. My parents didn’t think to notify me.
So I guess it ended OK. I locked myself in the bathroom and sobbed for a little while, then I was overcome by an overwhelming urge to crush the face of that f*cking little sh*t who had lied to me. I bolted back to the playground with no clear plan in mind, but it was going to be some real Lord of the Flies sh*t.
He wasn’t there when I got back. I suppose that’s good, because I was sufficiently older, bigger, and utterly blind with rage and probably would have murdered him at that point. An apology, however physically coerced, would have been nice though.” – Kuato2012
15. That time three-year old twins were waving around the dildos they found in their parents room.
So, you are thinking that you are going to be able to watch some TV while you babysit? Maybe you can catch up on some homework? Think again! Tonight you will spend the night running after 3-year-old twins who somehow got ahold of their parent’s dildos. Was this worth the $17 an hour? Probably not.
“It was pretty horrible rounding up dildos! And I had to awkwardly tell the parents ’cause I had no idea where the dildos came from. They paid me $10 extra that night and never called me again. Oh, well.” – Artegan
14. That time I accidentally got a 12-year-old wasted…
“Was watching two boys, maybe 12 and 11. Their parents liked to party quite a lot (one of the reasons they would pay me to watch their kids). One night they go out, order pizza for dinner, and the delivery driver forgets the the pop. The younger child says there is orange juice (OJ) in the fridge, so I grab the pitcher not thinking anything of it. Pour them each a glass, they drink and eat without saying word.
Through the course of the night, they keep pouring themselves cup full’s of OJ. They start acting strange, stumbling, talking odd, etc. I call the parents and ask if I should do anything, then tell the parents everything they ate/drank. Their dad ends up telling me the OJ was just a giant screwdriver that his wife and him were going to split when they got home. Luckily, I didn’t take too much heat for it because he said he should have warned me.” – ididitforthewookie
13. Six kids under the age of 12 + a trampoline + a hose + one babysitter = absolute disaster.
“One time, I was babysitting six kids, all under the age of 12 by myself. Three of them managed to get on the roof and were jumping off onto the trampoline. One ran off with a friend and another got the hose and brought it into the kitchen and decided to make a swimming pool in the house. All of this was happening while I’m trying to feed, burp, and change a wound dressing on an eight-month-old baby. For enduring all of that for six hours, I only got $30. I never babysat for them again.” – kb13733
$30 dollars for that? No way! Bye, Felicia. Good luck finding anyone who will deal with six terror kids like that. And I’d like to know a little more about the eight-month-old baby and what happened to it that it’s ‘wound needs dressing.’ Should we call Child Protective Services?
12. Need a drink after this…
“The kids were running around the house yelling, and the mom was so fed up with it, she took a shot before she left. After she left one of the kids, a three-year-old boy, kept begging me to make him a drink “in a baby cup like mommy.” I think I may have actually ended up pouring him some juice in a shot glass.” – flamants
Hmm, I have to be honest. I don’t have kids, but I think that when I do, I may need to take a shot to deal with them, too! But, if your three-year-old wants you to make him a drink, you’ve got a serious problem on your hands. Look lady, if you need a drink, maybe you should be a little more discrete.
11. Jealous mom will make you sink or swim.
“When I was 10, I babysat for a family in my town. They had three daughters who were super awesome and we always had a blast. When I started, the youngest was two-weeks-old. It turned into me babysitting for them more than their parents were home.
The parents are into weird stuff. One of the things they liked to do for any major decisions they needed to make was get out a sinker attached to a string and ask it questions. If it swung a certain way, it meant yes and if it went the other way, it meant no. I had been watching these girls for a couple of years and one night the mother asks where the father and I go when he takes me home. I tell her that he takes me home right away. Well she says that it takes him 2 or 3 hours before he gets back. Obviously, I’m stunned at what she’s insinuating, but they pay OK and I always knew they were crazy anyway. About a week after this, she tells me that I can no longer watch the kids because her sinker told her that the husband and I were having an affair. We weren’t. I was 12 for f***s sake and he was an ugly 37-year-old. – Chrississippi69
10. Crazy kids are just the icing on the cake.
Ah yes, you are young, vibrant, and full of love and life. You are cool and kids love you, so why wouldn’t you want to babysit for some extra cash? You find a family you like and you develop a relationship with the parents and with the kids. You babysit several times, and then, in an instant, they turn on you. And all because of icing. They want to eat that icing so bad and you tell them that icing isn’t on mommy and daddy’s list of things they could eat and just like that, it’s over. This leads them to have the tantrum of all tantrums and they torture you so hard, you will never want to babysit for them again. Oh, I miss the days where my biggest problems in life are whether or not I can eat icing.
9. Good kids, nice parents, bad, bad dog.
“Not exactly a horror story, but it was pretty annoying. I babysat regularly for a family—the parents were nice and the kids were good. The dog… well, that’s a different story. He was a good dog in general, but he had a humping problem. Whenever I was on the floor playing with the kids, he would try and mount me really aggressively—paws gripping my shoulders, teeth tangled in my hair. Doesn’t sound too bad, but he was a big, strong dog! -Fourteen-year-old me was like, “WTF? The first action I get is from a dog?!” Luckily, he chilled out as he got a little older.” – clea_vage
8. Poop string Patrick goes to the ER.
“I babysat regularly as a teen. One night it was business as usual. I had just laid the kids down for bed until I hear crying in the bathroom. Go in and the little one had a poop string hanging out of his bottom. I didn’t want to pull it in case it was wrapped around something so I’m trying to keep this kid calm and call his parents. They don’t answer. I call over and over with this kid freaking out. I call my mom who calmed me down, took their number, and then called them until she got a hold of them. They “rushed” home and took him to the ER. Definitely my weirdest night. The string came out fine, btw. Apparently the kid liked yarn… a lot.” – fantasyfreakazoid
7. Talk, pause, drop a poop.
The most awkward part of babysitting is all the private stuff. The diapers, the wiping, the pooping. And when the kid wants you to watch her poop, what do you do? You don’t want to upset her by telling her that you don’t really want to watch her poop, but you definitely don’t want to watch her poop. So you make a little agreement. What if you stay in the bathroom while she poops, but you’ll turn around and not watch. How is that? Is that okay with the Poop Princess? It’s okay? Great! Then you will have to have an entire conversation with Princess Poop while she is on toilet. She talks. Pauses. Drops a poop. And repeat. And this goes on and on and on…
6. Drug dealer daddy.
“I babysat for a very prominent family in my town—wife was a CEO, husband a lawyer. It was the best job ever! Two easygoing kids, $15 an hour (this was 15 years ago, so that was a TON of money), access to their pool, and an open invitation for my friends to come swim while I was “working.”
In between my first and second summer working for them, the parents divorced and the dad bought a giant house out in the country where I’d watch the kids sometimes. He made it very clear that his office and all the outbuildings were strictly off-limits. Okay, whatever, no problem. He had a “groundskeeper” who was always prowling around, hitting on me, and acting like a total creeper. If the kids or I came within 20 feet of the (supposedly empty) stables he’d shoo us away, saying he’d spotted a dangerous snake, just sprayed for bugs, or some other BS reason to keep us away. Came home from school a few months after my summer gig was over and saw the dad’s mugshot on TV. He’d been busted as some kind of small-time drug lord, selling cocaine to dealers out of his house in the country, and his “groundskeeper” was a wanted sex offender.” – Alliebeth
5. Knife-wielding demon children.
“There were three of them… I don’t remember their names now, but they were aged 12, nine, and six. ‘Nine’ was on some sort of medication, for an anger problem. ‘Six’ looked up to Nine and copied him, and ’12,’ the sister, was more mild-mannered but tolerable alone.
It started off normal, Six and Nine are riding their bikes around the neighbourhood and 12 and I are doing a puzzle. Eventually, the kids get bored, so we broke out their game of Connect Four. That went well for all of maybe five minutes. Nine lost his game to 12, so he throws the entire game set at her, and she continues to tease him which makes Nine angrier. Nine continues to throw things around and I ask him to stop, that’s not nice. He yells “SHUT UP” and tries to attack his sister. So 12 runs away screaming with Nine following behind, Six decides to try and get involved but somehow, Six trips and connects with Nine’s foot as he’s running, so now I’ve got two kids beating each other up and one with a bloody nose. I decide to leave Nine and 12 while I deal with the bloody nose. I’m holding a crying, screaming Six over the sink with hot water running and just letting him bleed there while I’m trying to stay calm and have Nine and 12 calm their sh*t. I did end up screaming “STOP!” to the kids, and they stopped.
Back to Six, who’s still crying over a bloody nose. I realise, holy sh*t, this sink isn’t draining. Nine goes “oh yeah, that sink doesn’t work.” Okay awesome, now I’ve got blood to clean off the carpet, tile, and now a sink full of bloody water. Of course, this is when Nine decides to lose his sh*t and grabs a pocket knife from his mother’s end table and tries to stab 12 with it. I take that knife from him, so of course he comes back from the kitchen with another knife. Yay.
Well, at least he stopped trying to stab his sister for the time being, so he resorts to stabbing all of his mother’s furniture instead. By now, I’ve called the mum like four times, but she isn’t answering her phone. So I end up calling my stepmum, who’s retired military, because someone’s going to die and I’m starting to lose my sh*t, being 17 at the time. So, to recap, there is blood everywhere, holes in all the furniture, psycho nine-year-old with knives (I put up all the kitchen knives, but he had some hidden in his room). So my stepmum runs over to see exactly that. I explain to her the situation, and she ends up restraining Nine while I clean up this mess.
Finally, their mum calls back and I explain the situation to her as well, and she says calmly, “yeah his medication must have worn off. Just tell him he’s done nothing wrong and to give him what we wants.” OK, maybe that isn’t the exact words, but that’s basically what she told me to do. F*ck that. I got out of there, got paid $80, and that was my very last time babysitting.” – stonedkangaroo
4. Here’s a cupcake. Can you PLEASE stop running away now?
Your friend posts on Facebook that someone she knows needs a babysitter. You need to buy new shoes. More specifically, new Vans. It’s a perfect match and you accept the challenge. You get the address, and while it seems a little sketchy that you are showing up to a stranger’s house, you go. Everything seems to be going well. Until the kids have a little junk food. And a little more. And a little more. And then they go for another cupcake and you intervene. No more sugar. This is where things take a turn. One of the kids threatens to run away, scrapes up her walls up with a key, tries to climb out the window, breaks your phone, and tries to jump off the balcony while threatening to kill herself all because you told her she couldn’t have a stupid cupcake. Sugar. The addiction will certainly kill you.
3. Mum’s the word on mum messing around.
“When I was 13, I got a job babysitting for my neighbours. They had two little girls that were the easiest kids to look after. The mum and dad were super nice people. Dad was a nurse that worked mainly nights and mom worked from home and would ask me over on Friday nights so she could go out and have some down time. I quickly found out though that she was seeing other men.
The first night I went over there, the mum informed me she would be home no later than midnight. Well, 4 a.m. rolled around and I’m woken up by noise out on the porch and see her hastily kissing another man and shooing him off. She apologises for being late, pays me (was $5 short) and I go home to my mum who’s pissed that she kept me so late. The same thing happened two more times. She’d promise to be home at midnight and come home at three or four in the morning. Every time with a different guy. And every time she would stiff me a little of what I earned. My mum put a stop to it and called her out on cheating on her husband. They ended up getting divorced not long after that.” – DomashnaRakija
2. Honey, I dislocated the kids.
“When I was about 15, I was babysitting three kids in my neighborhood. They were really rambunctious and the older two really liked it when I grabbed their hands and spun them around in a circle (so that their feet would lift off the ground like they were flying). The youngest really wanted to do it too. I’ve seen her dad play really rough with her, so I figured it was fine. NOPE. Soft toddler bones/joints = dislocated wrist. Her parents had to come home and take her to the emergency room. Never babysat for them again.”
1. If you’re going to spew, spew onto the eight-year-old kid you’re watching.
“I was babysitting two kids and we fell asleep on the couch watching a movie. After a while, I woke up and was feeling sick, but the slightly overweight eight-year-old was sleeping on me. I tried to sneak out from under her, but instead I just barfed all over her hair, the couch, and the boy’s legs. They both woke up and started screaming and gagging. Then they both started barfing all over the couch and carpet. It was terrible. But… I called the mom to come home, as she was already three hours late, she rushed home, helped me clean up, and paid me $80 instead of the $50 that was agreed upon. Barfing pays.” – princessk8
*Stories have been edited for length and clarity.
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