When Lucy first told me about the babysitting job, her eyes lit up. “Mrs. Carpenter asked if I could watch her boys next week. Monday to Friday. She’s paying $11 an hour!” Lucy had been saving for an online art course, turning down outings and gifts for months. Five days of work would nearly cover it. I gave her the go-ahead, proud of her responsibility.
That week, Lucy left every afternoon with her tote bag of snacks, books, and crafts. Each night, she came home more tired but proud. She handled the kids, meals, cleanup, and even helped with their reading. But Thursday, she came home quieter than usual. “One of them spilled juice on my sketchbook,” she said. “Mrs. Carpenter just said, ‘You’re the sitter, not the artist.’” On Friday, Lucy came home in tears. “She didn’t pay me,” she whispered. “She said I should have gotten it in writing. That it was a ‘life lesson.’”
