Some people view nannying as a simple job. Tasks like feeding children, reading them stories, and putting them to bed seem routine. However, that’s not always true. The people featured in our article shared their experiences caring for other people’s children, and now we wouldn’t dream of calling this profession dull.
I was 13 and was babysitting my neighbors’ kids. It was my first time, so the parents walked me through all the rules about the bathroom, TV, food, bedtime, etc. Just as the parents were taking off for the night, the mom came back in and whispered to me, “Don’t go into the basement.” As a teenager in the 80s, my mind went to all of the scariest movies that had basements. I avoided the door to the basement all night until I had put the kids to bed.
Then I walked slowly to the door and put my ear against it. I heard what sounded like whimpering. And then it sounded like sad laughing. I ran to the couch and started watching TV to get my mind off of it, but then I heard something fall in the basement and knew someone was down there. I really don’t know how I got the courage/stupidity to do it, but I went over and opened the door. The whining instantly got louder.
I went down just 3 or 4 stairs, so I could peek down… and I saw… a goat. Not a ghost. A goat. As soon as the goat saw me, he started bleating loudly. It scared me. I went upstairs, and the goat was still bleating loudly, so much that it woke up the kids.
The oldest girl came out and said, “Did you open the door to the basement?” I said, “Yeah, why?” She said, “When you do that, Carlos thinks you’re going to feed him, and he starts yelling.” Thank god I knew it was a goat first, because if she had said that before I went down, I would’ve thought Carlos was some kidnapped person in the basement who would yell for food.
It was very funny to me. The mom came home and I told her what happened, and she almost died laughing. They were repairing the goat pen and had to keep him in the basement for a few days. I still remember every moment of that night vividly. © Unknown author / RedditIn my early twenties, I would babysit a set of twins on the weekend once in a while. Their mom was super beautiful, and she was always going on dates.
One night, she told me she met a guy and was going on a date with him. She left at 6 and said she’d be back around midnight. Well, pushing 1 a.m., I’m thinking maybe she’s running late. 2 a.m., 3 a.m… I’m calling and calling her and finally her phone just goes to voice mail. I wake up, and it’s 7 a.m. and she still isn’t back.
I finally found the grandparent’s number in an address book. I call her parents, and they don’t even seem phased. They just seem annoyed like this is business as usual but tell me they’ll be over to sit with the twins, so I can leave. I call the non-emergency police number and explain what’s going on and that the grandparents are on their way.
I stick around for another hour, and then she pulls up wearing a men’s t-shirt, and heels, and she’s laughing. She says jokingly, “Oh my god! Call the police!” I never sat for her again. She just ended up staying with the guy all night and turned her phone off so she couldn’t be bothered. She truly thought I’d dismiss it like it was no big deal. © Kikabennet / Reddit
- The dad of the kids I watched liked me on Tinder. Then, when I told his wife, and she didn’t believe me, he convinced her that “his Facebook was hacked.” The kids were almost always wonderful. © marymoon77 / Reddit
- I work as a nanny in the family of a big businessman. At first, I worked several times a week, then I started living in their house. The head of the family works almost round the clock, his wife doesn’t notice anything but clothes, spas, and fitness.
Yesterday, their 5-year-old son stole money from his father’s safe, came to me, and said we should run away together. I returned the money immediately, but how to explain to a child why I love him more than his mother, I don’t know… © Overheard / Ideer - I’m a nanny, and I heard her first word (it was hippo). But the family won’t ever know that. Some secrets are better to keep. © positivityfox / Reddit
- First babysitting job at 13. Four kids. My parents gave me a whole fresh salmon to COOK and serve the kids. I learned that day that salmon has pin bones when I had to pull some out of the 3-year-old’s throat while simultaneously calling my parents down the road because I didn’t know what to do, as he was coughing and gasping for air. He was fine, but I think I lost 10 years of my life that day. © nah2daysun / Reddit
- A lady tried to dump 2 extra kids on me without paying when she realized I was babysitting her neighbor’s kids. Her rationale was that I was already babysitting 2 kids and 2 more wasn’t that much, so I should watch her kids for free and let them eat her neighbor’s food. © CaptDeliciousPants / Reddit
- I’m not a nanny, but I’ve been babysitting a girl on and off from when she was 5 to 7 now.
Her: What is that?
Me: Pineapple
Her: Oh, I’ve never had pineapple.
Me: Do you want to try it?
She does this about everything, too. I asked her mom if she had ever had pineapple, and she was like of course, she has! Then I realized she was just trying to eat my food. © Kacidillaa / Reddit - I nannied for a wealthy couple, and the husband had a study in the house that the wife joked about never being allowed in. Now, I’m nosy, and I was curious about why you wouldn’t let someone in a study, especially since it looked like a fairly normal room: big desk, walls covered in bookshelves, books of architecture everywhere.
So one day I just roamed around in there. I didn’t find anything, and I was kinda disappointed, but then I grabbed a book off one of the shelves. The thing had money pressed between its pages — about $500 if I had to guess. Picked up another book, and found the same thing.
I think I checked like ten different books, and every single one had money hidden in it. Still not sure if the dude was just paranoid about banks or if he was intentionally hiding money from his wife. © Unknown author / Reddit - I babysat two neighbor kids one time. I had a lot of experience babysitting, but it was my first time with this particular family. The little boy was about 5, and the little girl was maybe 7. Their parents left very specific instructions for bedtime, and they were kept on a very strict schedule. I thankfully had my best friend with me at the time, we were probably 15.
Bedtime came around, and after several warnings, we told them it was time to get upstairs, get into PJs, and carry on with their bedtime routine. They went ballistic. The little boy started tearing the cushions off their leather couch, tossing them everywhere, and biting a hole in the arm of the couch. While I was trying to deal with him, my best friend was trying to get the little girl upstairs when she ran into the kitchen, dumped their entire mop bucket of dirty water on the floor, and started sliding around in it. As soon as the couch-chewer saw the fun his sister was having, he joined in.
I ended up calling my mom for reinforcement, and never babysat for that family again. © soxxyrocks / Reddit
- So the father of the kid works for a major athletic apparel company, and every year they need to test the upcoming year’s potential pieces. To do that, the company sends one of every potential piece to all female employees and female spouses.
Well, the mother is pregnant right now and can’t fit into any of the items, so the father made me a cup of tea and asked me to sit down in the living room (what he does whenever he wants to talk to me about something) and says, “I know we’re not paying you to do this, but would you be willing to test all of the sample pieces my company sent me? You can keep them afterward.”
Yes! Y’all, no kidding, he just handed me 6 boxes of athletic clothing that have to total thousands of dollars. © pineappleprincesspie / Reddit - I was in the living room, watching Sister, Sister,when all of a sudden I heard a man say, “Hello.” I check the front door and look out the window at the driveway, the parents aren’t home. Go upstairs and check the kids, they’re both still in bed.
Go back downstairs, and hear it again, from the darkened dining room, “Hello, I am Armando.” They had a parrot. © Unknown author / Reddit - I only babysat once, and it was nothing horrible. These people had a huge rich house, and everything looked great, but when it was time for the kids’ bed, I figured I’d read them a bedtime story. I searched through that magnificent house and couldn’t find a single solitary book. © TRIGMILLION / Reddit
- So, it is that time of the month for me. I go into the bathroom, and while unwrapping a feminine hygiene product, the kid yells from outside the door, “I can hear you eating candy in there!” It made my day and made me wish that I was eating candy. © HalleysComet5 / Reddit
- I was working as a nanny, and the children’s mother once told me, “My husband doesn’t think we should pay you for when the girls are sleeping…” They were 4 months and 2 years old.
I was a junior in high school and responded, “Okay, so should I duck out once I tuck them in?” I wouldn’t have done that, but I think at that point she realized how ridiculous her request was. © reckate / Reddit - I had a phone interview with a mom that went well, so we met in person for a second interview with her husband and 4 children. It went well until she explained her nanny was fired for having an affair with her husband and how their new nanny needed better morals and to limit her interaction with her husband (who was sitting there the whole time with us).
I’ve never felt more awkward in my whole life as she told me that I’m pretty but thankfully not his type as he just nodded his head. I just find it irritating how it’s the nanny’s fault when her husband also had the affair, and how the nanny needs morals when her husband doesn’t. So yeah, definitely not accepting this job! © thisisdevon- / Reddit
Working as a regular nanny is challenging enough, so imagine being a nanny for a royal family. There are strict rules to follow, such as being allowed to wear only specific types of jewelry.
My Sassy MIL Took over Our Bed Without Asking for Years—But This Time, I Set a Trap My In-Laws Walked Right Into
Every time my parents-in-law visited, my sassy MIL took over our bedroom, shoving my things aside and lighting her signature candles. One day, I decided enough was enough! I devised a plan that would leave her begging for the guest room.
I watched the clock tick down with dread, knowing that in exactly 17 minutes, Hurricane Monica would make landfall.
A woman staring at something | Source: Midjourney
My mother-in-law wasn’t just visiting — she was invading, and my master bedroom was always her first conquest.
“They’re early,” my husband Jake muttered, peering through the living room blinds.
The familiar silver sedan pulled into our driveway ten minutes ahead of schedule. Of course, they were early. Monica never played by the rules.
A house with a driveway | Source: Pexels
I smoothed my shirt and plastered on what I hoped was a convincing smile.
“Ready for the storm?” I asked.
Jake squeezed my hand. “We’ve weathered worse.”
But had we?
A woman looking out a window | Source: Midjourney
For five years, I’d watched Monica march straight into our bedroom and dump her dirty luggage on our bed.
She shoved our toiletries aside or tossed them into the bathroom cabinet so she could scatter her makeup and perfumes everywhere.
She lit scented candles without asking, and left behind heavy scents and even oily stains from her “relaxing oils.”
Essential oils in a case | Source: Pexels
The memory of last Christmas still stung, when I’d found my jewelry box emptied into a drawer because she “needed the space.”
She also shoved my books under the bed, and always left our room messier than she found it.
The doorbell rang, and Jake opened it with practiced enthusiasm. “Mom! Dad! Great to see you!”
A front door | Source: Pexels
Monica swept in like royalty, air-kissing both of Jake’s cheeks before giving me a once-over that somehow made me feel both invisible and scrutinized.
Her husband Frank trailed behind, carrying their luggage and looking as passive as ever.
“Always lovely to see you both,” she remarked airily. “Won’t you brew some coffee while we get settled? Traveling is so tiring.”
A woman speaking to someone | Source: Midjourney
Before I could respond, she was already halfway down the hall. I shot Jake a desperate look, and he nodded — a silent promise to intervene.
But we both knew he wouldn’t keep it. Jake was a lion in every aspect of life except when it came to his mother.
“Mom,” he called after her, voice weaker than intended, “we’ve set up the guest room for you this time.”
A hallway in a house | Source: Midjourney
Monica paused, turned, and smiled the way a cat might smile at a cornered mouse. “Oh, that’s sweet, but you know how my back gets on those guest beds. You young people can handle it.”
And with that, she continued her march toward our bedroom.
I’d tried everything over the years. First came gentle hints: “The guest room has a better view.” Then direct requests: “We’d prefer to keep our room private.”
A serious woman in a living room | Source: Midjourney
Each attempt was met with dismissal.
“Stop being dramatic; it’s just a room,” she’d snap.
“Maybe if you had better guest rooms, we wouldn’t need yours,” she’d suggested once, as if our three-bedroom house existed solely for her bi-annual visits.
A woman in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
For years, I swallowed my pride.
I’d strip our bedroom of anything truly private, surrender the space, and spend their visits feeling like a guest in my own home. Jake would whisper apologies in the guest room each night, promising to talk to her “next time.”
But something in me had finally snapped.
A stern-looking woman | Source: Midjourney
Last night, I’d called Monica and told her clearly, “WE’VE SET UP THE GUEST ROOM FOR YOU. IT’S CLEAN, COZY, AND PRIVATE. WE’RE KEEPING OUR BEDROOM TO OURSELVES.”
“We’ll see when we get there, dear,” she’d said. Her voice dripped with condescension, a promise of future defiance.
So I’d prepared a little surprise for her, just in case.
A woman smirking | Source: Pexels
“There’s a new mattress on the guest bed. You really will be more comfortable there,” I called after Monica (it was a warning, but she couldn’t have known that at the time).
Then I rushed out the door to get to work.
When I returned home later, it was no surprise to find that Monica had colonized our bedroom. Her suitcase was splayed open on our bed, clothes already hanging in my closet.
Suitcases on a bed | Source: Pexels
The familiar scent of her heavy floral perfume saturated the air, mixing with the three scented candles she’d lit. My skincare products had been shoved aside to make room for her extensive collection.
When I appeared in the doorway, Monica stood proudly amid the chaos.
“The guest room gets too much morning sun,” she declared without apology. “It’s better for young people like you to adjust. We’re staying here.”
A woman standing in a bedroom | Source: Midjourney
Everything was going according to plan.
“Of course,” I said sweetly. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”
Confusion flashed across her face. She’d been prepared for resistance, not surrender.
That evening, we had a tense dinner where Monica criticized my cooking (a bit too spicy), my wine choice (somewhat acidic), and our dishware (charming, in a rustic way).
A table set for dinner | Source: Pexels
I met each barb with a serene smile that grew more genuine as the evening progressed. Jake kept shooting me questioning glances, but I just squeezed his hand under the table.
Later, as Monica and Frank settled into our bedroom, Jake and I retreated to the guest room.
“What’s going on?” he whispered. “You’re being weirdly calm about all this.”
A frowning man | Source: Midjourney
I slipped under the covers. “Let’s just say I made some preparations.”
“What kind of preparations?” His eyes widened with concern.
“Nothing illegal,” I assured him. “Just a little lesson in boundaries.”
We fell asleep to the sound of Monica’s television blaring through the walls — another of her charming habits.
A couple in bed | Source: Pexels
The next morning, I woke early to make coffee, humming as I arranged breakfast pastries on a plate. Jake joined me, still puzzled by my good mood but willing to play along.
At precisely 7:43 a.m., Monica stormed into the kitchen looking like she’d seen a ghost.
Her face was ashen, her lips pressed into a thin line, and her movements stiff with what could only be described as pure mortification. Frank shuffled behind her, staring intensely at the floor.
A distressed man | Source: Midjourney
She didn’t touch the coffee I offered. She didn’t meet anyone’s eyes.
After an unbearable silence that seemed to stretch into eternity, she finally spoke, each word forced out like it physically hurt.
“We’ll take the guest room. Please.”
A woman peering over her glasses | Source: Pexels
I tilted my head, the picture of innocence. “Oh? I thought you loved the master bedroom?”
Monica flinched visibly. “We changed our minds.”
Jake, who had been taking a bite of toast, suddenly started coughing, clearly trying to suppress laughter.
I patted his back a bit harder than necessary.
A person holding a slice of toast | Source: Pexels
“The guest room gets that lovely morning light,” I continued pleasantly. “And I just changed the sheets. I can help you move your things if you’d like.”
“No!” Monica said, too quickly. “No, thank you. We can manage.”
They excused themselves and hurried back toward the bedroom, where they spent the next hour quietly transferring their belongings to the guest room.
A bedroom | Source: Pexels
I caught glimpses of Monica’s face: still haunted, still unable to make eye contact.
That evening, after Monica and Frank had retreated early to the guest room, Jake finally cornered me in the kitchen.
“Okay, what exactly did you do?” he whispered, equal parts horrified and impressed.
A man looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
I grinned. “Remember that shopping trip I took to that specialty store downtown?”
His eyes widened. “You didn’t.”
“I did. Plus a few things from a website with overnight delivery.” I beckoned to Jake with my finger. “I’ll show you.”
A man staring at someone | Source: Midjourney
I barely held back my giggles as I showed Jake the lacy, barely-there lingerie I’d tucked beneath the pillows and the adult toys I’d “accidentally” left in the en-suite bathroom.
“Oh my God,” he breathed, the blood draining from his face.
“There’s more,” I whispered.
A woman with a smug smile | Source: Midjourney
While our bedroom might have looked normal at first glance, I’d secretly placed massage oils, some interesting leather accessories, and items that required batteries throughout the room and bathroom.
I’d even filled our TV queue with titles that would make a sailor blush.
Jake’s mouth opened and closed several times before he managed to speak. “My mother saw all this?”
A TV in a bedroom | Source: Pexels
“Every. Single. Piece.” I couldn’t help the satisfaction in my voice. “I figured if she wanted our most private space, she should understand exactly how private it is.”
He was quiet for a moment, then burst into laughter so loud I had to shush him.
“You’re evil,” he gasped between breaths. “Absolutely evil. And brilliant.”
A man staring at someone | Source: Midjourney
The rest of their visit passed in blessed peace.
Monica and Frank stayed firmly within the boundaries of the guest room. When they left three days later, Monica hugged me stiffly at the door.
“The guest room was quite comfortable after all,” she said tightly.
“I’m so glad,” I replied as I stepped back. “It’s yours whenever you visit.”
A woman speaking to someone | Source: Midjourney
As their car pulled away, Jake wrapped his arm around my waist. “You know she’s probably traumatized for life.”
“Good,” I said, leaning into him. “So was I, every time she invaded our space.”
That night, I slipped into bed with the satisfaction of a battle well won.
A woman relaxing in bed | Source: Pexels
Some might call it petty revenge, but I called it a necessary education in boundaries.
And judging by the text Jake received the next day saying they booked a hotel for Christmas, the lesson had stuck. Permanently.
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