Sarah Walker Shows You How: How to Babysit by Sarah Walker

First, be asked to babysit your five- and three-year-old nieces for the weekend. Say a tiny prayer that the weekend is booked and you can’t. Listen, you love them. Mostly because you have to, but yeah, they’re cute and all. When they’re not farting on you, which is always. There are just other ways you’d like to spend your weekend, like getting a smog check or helping someone move.

See that your calendar is empty. Consider lying to your brother and sister-in-law. Having fake plans won’t cut it; they’d expect you to change them. You have to have a rock solid excuse. You could say that you aren’t actually who you say you are. You could say that you took over the identity of their sister ten years ago in New York City when the two of you were roommates. Have they ever seen Single White Female? Good, so you don’t really need to explain the in’s and out’s of what happened in that small apartment in the East Village. Suffice to say, their sister is gone, you seamlessly transitioned into their lives and they’ve never been the wiser. So, before they put you in charge of their offspring for an entire weekend, they should consider the fact that you are a stranger. And a dangerous one at that. Surprise!

Think that that sounds overly complicated and, if successfully carried out, would be incredibly emotionally traumatic for both you and your family and would separate you from them for the rest of your life. Then think about getting up at 6 am for two days in a row. IN A ROW. Decide to go for the lying scheme.

Having successfully broken the news to your entire family that you are in fact an imposter, you now have to leave town. The police are after you because you all but said you killed their “sister” (who is really you) and you need to lay low until things cool off. Drive to the desert and settle in a town where people don’t ask questions. A town where everyone wants to start over, where everyone wants to forget their past. Move into an abandoned school bus and begin working at the local bar where the only thing folks want to talk about is the unchanging weather and the roadrunner that lives in their yard.

Start dating a nice man who delivers pizzas to the bar. Invite him to move in with you in your school bus, and before long become engaged. But then he starts asking questions. He wants to meet your family. Tell him that you have no family. But then have a nagging itch in the back of your mind every day. You do have a family. You’re living a lie. You need to make things right.

Flee the desert town in the dead of night, leaving a note for your fiancé that it’s over, you’ll never see him again. Don’t feel too bad, he was sort of dumb. I mean, he believed that you had no past. He never even tried to google you, which would have been super easy since the only thing you did to change your name was put an accent over the last vowel of your last name. So that’s his bad. Plus, you said he could keep the school bus.

Fly to Europe. Send a postcard as the real you, or what your family believes is the real you, assuring them that you are safe in Europe and that you just heard abut this psycho roommate who took over your identity and you’ll be home ASAP. Quickly take a lot of photos around Europe with different hairstyles so you have evidence of your ten-year “trip” there.

Fly home and tearfully reunite with your family. They were so worried about you! Apologize for putting them through this emotional hell, and gloss over why you didn’t tell them that you were in Europe for ten years. Say if you ever see the woman who did this to them you’ll make sure she pays. Pretend not to know your nieces and smile when they fart on you. So charming. When your brother and sister-in-law ask you to babysit for them that weekend, which they’re positive you’ll want to do so you can get to know the little girls, say that you have plans. They accept it and don’t even ask what kind of plans. Huh. That was easy.