The Nanny Diaries by Emma McLaughlin, Nicola Kraus Page B
Authors: Emma McLaughlin, Nicola Kraus
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twenties.
I lookdownathimashewhisperstoAl. "Okay,buddy,"I say, "let's gotothebasement andbringup the rest of your ornaments so they can keep Al company. They'll be there to talk him down if he gets too closetotheedgeagain." "To thebasement?" "Yup. Let's go."
"1 got toget mystuff.Got togetmyhelmet andbelt.You go tothedoorNanny, I'll meetya ... got toget theflashlight.. ." Herunstohis roomasI ringfortheelevator.
Grayer glides back out into the vestibule just as the elevator door opens. "Oh, my God, Grove!All this for the basement?" He puts one sock-covered foot down to stop his skateboard in front of the elevator door. His bicycle helmet sits slightly askew and he has shoved a huge flashlight into his waistband, along with a yo-yo and what looks to be a monogrammed washcloth from his bathroom. "Okay, let's go,"hesays with completeauthority. "I'm thinkingwe shouldatleastbewearingshoesforthis
adventure."
"Nah,don't need 'em."Herolls insideandthedoor closes behindbothof usbeforeI cancatch it. "It's so cool down there, Nanny. Oh, man, oh, man." He nods his helmeted head in anticipation. Grayer has taken to peppering his commentary with "oh, mans" as of late, thanks to Christianson, a four-year-old of remarkable charisma who has a good foot in height over the rest of his classmates. In fact, when Al first made impact with the fateful orange glitter both Giselle's and Grayer's first utterance was a simultaneous "Oh,man."
The elevator stops at the lobby and Grayer rolls ahead of me, propelling himself with one foot, while keeping both hands on his waistband so that his packed pants don't succumb to gravity. By the time I catch up, he's already gotten Ramon to lead the way to the caged service elevator. "Ahh, Mr. Grayer. You musthaveimportantbusiness downthere,huh?"
Grayer isbusyadjustinghis toolsandoffersonly adistracted "Yup."
Ramonsmiles inhis directionandthenwinksconspiratoriallyatme. "He's veryserious,our Mr. Grayer. You got a girlfriend yet, Mr. Grayer?" The elevator jerks as we reach the basement. He slides the gate open and we step out into the bright, cold corridor, rich with the aroma of dryer sheets. "Cage 132. own to the right. Be careful now, don't get lost, or I'll have to come find you..." He winks again and, with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, pulls the door closed, leaving me beneath a dangling lightbulb.
"Grayer?" I yell downthecorridor.
"Nanny! I'm waiting. Come onnnn!" I follow his voice around the maze of floor-to-ceiling cages lining the walls. Some are more packed than others, but each has the requisite luggage, ski equipment, and random pieces of bubble-wrapped furniture. I round the bend and see Grove lying on his stomach atop his skateboard under a sign that says 132, pulling himself along the wired wall by his hands. "Oh, man, it's gonna be so fun when Daddy comes home and does the tree. Caitlin gets us started and Daddy does thehigh-ups andwehavehotchocolateinthelivingroom."
"Soundspretty cool. Here, I have thekey," I say, holdingit out toward him. He jumps up anddown as I unlock the cage and then proceeds to deftly make his way in around the boxes. I let him lead as he's clearly madethistrekbeforeandI wouldn't know astoragelockerfromanEasy-Bakeoven.
I sitdownonthecoldcementandleanbackonthecagedoor
THE NANNY DIARIES
facing that of the Xes. My parents used to daydream about storage space, sitting with both feet up on the trunk packedto bursting with our summer clothes thatserved as our coffee table. On occasion, we'd allow ourselves to talk about what we could do with one extra closet. uch as a family in Wyoming mightfantasizeaboutwinning thelottery.
"Do you know what you're looking for, Grove?" I call into the piles, as I haven't heard anything in a few minutes. Loud clanging noises break the silence. "Grayer! What's going on in there?" I start to standupashis flashlightcomes rollingoutofthedarknessandstopsatmyfeet.
"Just getting my stuffout, Nanny! Turn the light on me, I'm going to get
I lookdownathimashewhisperstoAl. "Okay,buddy,"I say, "let's gotothebasement andbringup the rest of your ornaments so they can keep Al company. They'll be there to talk him down if he gets too closetotheedgeagain." "To thebasement?" "Yup. Let's go."
"1 got toget mystuff.Got togetmyhelmet andbelt.You go tothedoorNanny, I'll meetya ... got toget theflashlight.. ." Herunstohis roomasI ringfortheelevator.
Grayer glides back out into the vestibule just as the elevator door opens. "Oh, my God, Grove!All this for the basement?" He puts one sock-covered foot down to stop his skateboard in front of the elevator door. His bicycle helmet sits slightly askew and he has shoved a huge flashlight into his waistband, along with a yo-yo and what looks to be a monogrammed washcloth from his bathroom. "Okay, let's go,"hesays with completeauthority. "I'm thinkingwe shouldatleastbewearingshoesforthis
adventure."
"Nah,don't need 'em."Herolls insideandthedoor closes behindbothof usbeforeI cancatch it. "It's so cool down there, Nanny. Oh, man, oh, man." He nods his helmeted head in anticipation. Grayer has taken to peppering his commentary with "oh, mans" as of late, thanks to Christianson, a four-year-old of remarkable charisma who has a good foot in height over the rest of his classmates. In fact, when Al first made impact with the fateful orange glitter both Giselle's and Grayer's first utterance was a simultaneous "Oh,man."
The elevator stops at the lobby and Grayer rolls ahead of me, propelling himself with one foot, while keeping both hands on his waistband so that his packed pants don't succumb to gravity. By the time I catch up, he's already gotten Ramon to lead the way to the caged service elevator. "Ahh, Mr. Grayer. You musthaveimportantbusiness downthere,huh?"
Grayer isbusyadjustinghis toolsandoffersonly adistracted "Yup."
Ramonsmiles inhis directionandthenwinksconspiratoriallyatme. "He's veryserious,our Mr. Grayer. You got a girlfriend yet, Mr. Grayer?" The elevator jerks as we reach the basement. He slides the gate open and we step out into the bright, cold corridor, rich with the aroma of dryer sheets. "Cage 132. own to the right. Be careful now, don't get lost, or I'll have to come find you..." He winks again and, with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, pulls the door closed, leaving me beneath a dangling lightbulb.
"Grayer?" I yell downthecorridor.
"Nanny! I'm waiting. Come onnnn!" I follow his voice around the maze of floor-to-ceiling cages lining the walls. Some are more packed than others, but each has the requisite luggage, ski equipment, and random pieces of bubble-wrapped furniture. I round the bend and see Grove lying on his stomach atop his skateboard under a sign that says 132, pulling himself along the wired wall by his hands. "Oh, man, it's gonna be so fun when Daddy comes home and does the tree. Caitlin gets us started and Daddy does thehigh-ups andwehavehotchocolateinthelivingroom."
"Soundspretty cool. Here, I have thekey," I say, holdingit out toward him. He jumps up anddown as I unlock the cage and then proceeds to deftly make his way in around the boxes. I let him lead as he's clearly madethistrekbeforeandI wouldn't know astoragelockerfromanEasy-Bakeoven.
I sitdownonthecoldcementandleanbackonthecagedoor
THE NANNY DIARIES
facing that of the Xes. My parents used to daydream about storage space, sitting with both feet up on the trunk packedto bursting with our summer clothes thatserved as our coffee table. On occasion, we'd allow ourselves to talk about what we could do with one extra closet. uch as a family in Wyoming mightfantasizeaboutwinning thelottery.
"Do you know what you're looking for, Grove?" I call into the piles, as I haven't heard anything in a few minutes. Loud clanging noises break the silence. "Grayer! What's going on in there?" I start to standupashis flashlightcomes rollingoutofthedarknessandstopsatmyfeet.
"Just getting my stuffout, Nanny! Turn the light on me, I'm going to get
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