by Alan Katz
“Well, yes, but I do love that itty-bitty kitty,” Martin told her.
“Nathan, since the Kendall family went away, how many times would you say you’ve fed the cat?” Mrs. Wohlfardt inquired.
“Not even once,” Nathan admitted. “Martin’s done it every time.”
“I’m surprised at you!” Myron whispered to Martin.
“I’m surprised at you!” David whispered to Nathan.
“It’s just so itty-bitty,” Martin said.
Mr. and Mrs. Wohlfardt then listed several other instances where the boys had made the nannies do their work. It was not a happy meeting.
“In conclusion,” Mr. Wohlfardt said in the sternest tone he could manage without straining his voice, “there is one week to go in this double-nanny experiment. One week to change your behavior, boys, and return to being the responsible students and fine, upstanding citizens that you know you can be. And one week for you, Myron and Martin, to show that you’re here for the good of our boys, not just to win a job.”
The boys and the nannies all apologized, and all said they would do better from then on.
And it seemed as if they all meant it. As they ran upstairs, Nathan and David didn’t expect hot fudge sundaes to be delivered to their room. Neither nanny offered to wash, dry, fold, and iron the boys’ laundry. And Martin didn’t think about ways he could give the kids the moon (as he’d still been doing for weeks).
Sometimes an urgent family meeting can make quite a difference.
Quite a difference indeed.
Through the week that followed the urgent family meeting, Martin and Myron were the perfect nannies. They helped Nathan and David, but not too much. They guided them in their chores, but didn’t actually do them for the boys. They assisted them with school matters, but it was encouragement, not actual work.
For Nathan and David, it was the end of the good days. But somewhere, deep down, they knew that taking responsibility for their own efforts was the right thing to do. In a funny way, it felt good.
Nathan began feeding the Kendall family’s cat all by himself, and he, too, fell deeply in love with the itty-bitty kitty. He also took it upon himself to clean up the giant-wiant mess that the itty-bitty kitty had made around her food bowl. For the first time in a long time, Nathan was taking care of business, and it made him proud of himself. What’s more, being proud of himself made him proud of himself.
As for David, he started doing things for himself again too. And like his brother, he thought it felt good to be taking action rather than taking a nap while relying on others to take action for him. It’s true that his shirts weren’t as neatly folded as when the nannies folded them, or that his bed wasn’t made with the same careful four-hour dedication Myron had provided, but that was okay with David. And he was certainly glad that he’d never again have to have his teacher hand back a report with “JFK the airport, not the president!!!!” written in big red letters across the top.
For the nannies, it was an easygoing, joyful week. Truthfully, it was so much fun working as a team to help the boys, both nannies pretty much forgot about the quickly approaching day when the Wohlfardts would decide which one could stay, and which one had to leave.
Mr. and Mrs. Wohlfardt were thrilled at how smoothly the week went; they loved seeing great nanny cooperation for the benefit of Nathan and David. But . . .
They were extremely fretful about the decision that had to be made on the evening of the thirtieth day of the Martin vs. Myron challenge.
What’s more, there were quite a few decisions to be made about how the final decision would actually be made.
For one thing, the Wohlfardt parents wondered if they should be the ones to make the Martin or Myron decision. Should they ask the boys for their opinions? And if they did that, what if Nathan ended up wanting one nanny and David chose the other?
Was it better for Nathan and David to be told which nanny was staying?
At times, Mrs. Wohlfardt wondered if both nannies could somehow stay. Maybe Myron could take care of David, and Martin could take care of Nathan. Or vice versa. No, she figured, because that would mean two full-time S-A-L-A-R-I-E-S.
At times, Mr. Wohlfardt wondered if they needed either nanny.
The big decision was pretty much the only thing the Wohlfardt parents talked about. They asked friends, relatives, and coworkers what they thought they should do. But no one provided any real help.
Meanwhile, Nathan and David were on their best behavior all week. But they too were worried about which nanny would be holding on to his job.
“I think Mom’s gonna want Martin,” Nathan said.
“Nope,” David said. “Mom’s more on Myron’s side, and I think Dad likes Martin better.”
Nathan disagreed. “Dad’s totally in favor of Myron staying,” he said. “I’ve seen them watching football together.”
“Myron doesn’t care about football, and he doesn’t know anything about football,” David told him. “I heard him tell Dad he used to play quarterback, halfback, and dollar back. There’s no such thing as a dollarback, except when you’re getting change in a store.”
“Even so,” Nathan said. “Mom’ll vote for Martin, and Dad’ll vote for Myron.”
David thought about that for a minute. Then he asked his brother which nanny he’d vote for.
Nathan told his brother he wished he hadn’t asked. Because on the one hand, he explained, Martin was the first nanny to really help the boys become better brothers, better kids, better students, better everythings. So they should always be grateful for that. But on the other hand, Martin left them, which wasn’t nice. But on the third hand, when he left, they fell back into their rotten habits, which made it seem that they really did need Martin. But on the fourth hand, when Myron took over, he helped them find their way back to being good kids. He was a nice guy, and he kind of did most of the stuff that Martin had done for them.
David said he pretty much agreed. He said that if Martin hadn’t left, they’d never have known Myron, and they’d have been just fine. But also, if Martin hadn’t come back, they would have been fine with Myron.
And back and forth and back and forth they went. There really was no easy answer.
On the night before the thirtieth day, no one in the Wohlfardt household slept well at all.
Mrs. Wohlfardt tossed and turned, dreaming that she was in a car and had reached a fork in the road. One direction would take her to the town of Martinville. But if she chose the other route, she’d end up in Myron Falls.
Mr. Wohlfardt tossed and turned, dreaming that he was on a game show, and the final, million-dollar question was “Who is the right nanny for your family?” The clock was ticking, and he needed to come up with an answer. Fortunately, the game show host kept pausing for commercials—including one for the airline that employed Mr. Wohlfardt as a pilot. Even better, Mr. Wohlfardt was the star of the commercial in his dreams, tap dancing while singing the jingle “If You Don’t Fly Us, You Should Try Us!”
David tossed and turned, dreaming that Myron and Martin were jumping on his bed, soaring higher and higher toward the ceiling. The funny thing was, while he was dreaming that, the nannies actually were jumping on his bed. But that’s another story.
Nathan tossed and turned, dreaming that Uncle Pipperman was all out of pencil and rice salad, and had lost the recipe when he accidentally baked it into his famous chocolate-chip chicken lemon fritters.
Back in their room, Myron tossed and turned so much that he rolled all the way onto Martin’s sleeper couch. Fortunately, Martin had tossed and turned in the exact opposite direction, and he rolled over his brother and ended up on Myron’s full-size bed.
When morning came, the four Wohlfardts and the two nannies were sleepy, groggy, and foggy. None of them were in the mood to face the big decision.
At breakfast, Nathan almost fell asleep in his cereal bowl. David almost fell asleep in his scrambled eggs. Mr. Wohlfardt put pancake syrup in his coffee, and Mrs. Wohlf
ardt dipped her tea bag in her orange juice.
Myron and Martin each did their very best to stay awake while serving breakfast and doing the dishes. Then they each excused themselves and went off to different, faraway areas of the house.
That was fine with the Wohlfardts, of course; since it was a Sunday morning, none of them had anywhere they needed to be. As soon as breakfast was over, they each crawled back into their beds to try to get a little extra rest.
In the basement sat Myron, silently thinking about the situation at hand. He took out a fancy notepad and scrawled down his thoughts.
In the attic sat Martin, listening to a tuba concerto while thinking about the situation at hand. He took out a roll of calculator paper he had found on Mrs. Wohlfardt’s home office desk and scrawled down his thoughts.
Several hours later, Mr. Wohlfardt woke up to find a note pinned to his pajamas.
He quickly woke up his wife, who found a similar note pinned to her pajamas.
“This can’t be good,” Mrs. Wohlfardt said with a sigh.
Mr. Wohlfardt grabbed his eyeglasses, unpinned his note, and read it aloud:
Dear Mr. Wohlfardt (and Mrs. Wohlfardt, too, of course),
This is a note from me, Myron. You know, Myron Hyron Dyron. I suppose you’re wondering why you woke up to find a note pinned to you, Mr. Wohlfardt. Well, I wanted to make sure you saw it immediately after your nap.
This note hasn’t been easy to write, Mr. Wohlfardt. For one thing, this pen isn’t very good—there’s some kind of fuzz on the tip, and the ink comes out kind of scratchy. For another thing, it’s never easy to express just what’s in your brain, and that is something I very much want to do right now.
“Martin was right,” Mr. Wohlfardt told his wife. “Myron is pretty wordy.”
He continued reading:
What’s in my brain, Mr. Wohlfardt, is a deep respect for each member of your family. Your boys are delightful, and you and your wife have treated me with kindness and friendship. More than just two bosses, you’ve been like a fifth mother (Mrs. Wohlfardt) and seventeenth father (you) to me.
I would stay here forever, forever, forever, forever if I could. But I realize that if I stay, you will most certainly decide that I’ve won the job, which means that my remarkable twin brother, Martin, would be out of work. He’d have nowhere to live. No income. And nowhere to live. Sorry, I already said that part.
I do love your family, but I love my own just a teensy-weensy bit more, so I am going to step aside so that Martin can stay. He is, after all, my twin brother, which I think you already know.
Please tell Nazuki I say good-bye. And please ask Nazuki to tell Dazuki I say good-bye. Although I suppose you could tell that to Dazuki. It doesn’t really matter to me who tells him, as long as Dazuki knows I say good-bye.
Also, please remind the boys to do their homework every night, to keep their rooms clean, and to brush their teeth twice a day. (Also, please tell Nazuki that the smaller one is the toothbrush and the bigger one is the hairbrush. He sometimes mixes those up.)
So long, Mr. Wohlfardt, and happy flying!
“Oh dear, Myron is leaving us because he wants the best for his brother,” Mrs. Wohlfardt said. “That is so very sweet and considerate.”
“I suppose it is,” Mr. Wohlfardt agreed. “And it certainly takes us off the hook in terms of having to decide which nanny stays and which one goes. Martin gets the job.”
Interestingly, neither Wohlfardt parent questioned the names Nazuki and Dazuki. But realizing their stressful time was over, Mr. and Mrs. Wohlfardt each took a deep breath for the first time all week.
Unfortunately, their sense of relief lasted about as long as their deep breaths did.
Why? Because of the long note that was still pinned to Mrs. Wohlfardt. She unpinned and unrolled the note, borrowed her husband’s eyeglasses, and proceeded to read:
Hello, Mrs. Wohlfardt,
It’s Martin here at the other side of the pencil. By the way, did you know that the pencil was invented in the 1500s? It was. But listen, I came back to my job because I wanted to do my job. And it’s a job that is a job that I enjoy doing. But you had already hired someone else for my job. Okay, I’ll stop saying the word “job.”
Anyhoo, over the past month, you’ve given me a chance to prove that I should be your nanny. You’ve also given me the chance to get to know my brother Myron Hyron Dyron better than I ever thought I could. And do you know what? I think he’s exactly like me, which means he’s a pretty amazing guy.
I am quite sure that when you tell us which nanny you’ve picked as the winner of the competition, it will be me. But I can’t be here when you make that announcement. Because, you see, I can’t let you hurt my brother’s feelings that way.
And so, it is with a heavy heart and an even heavier suitcase that I say farewell once again. I really hate to be saying good-bye this way, but I can’t stand the thought of looking into the eyes of Nathan and David and telling them I’m leaving for a second time.
I hope you understand.
I hope they understand.
Because really, I don’t understand.
I wish I could stay. And please treat my brother well.
Love,
Martin
“Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooo!” Mrs. Wohlfardt moaned. “Martin is leaving too!”
Mr. Wohlfardt couldn’t believe it.
“He’s going for the same reason—so his brother gets the job instead,” he said.
“They are being so kind to each other,” Mrs. Wohlfardt said. “But in doing so, they’re being rotten to us.”
As Mr. and Mrs. Wohlfardt got dressed, they did what they both knew was the only logical thing to do.
They panicked.
They were used to losing nannies. It had happened many, many times before. And they were even used to reading an “I’m leaving” letter from Martin—that had happened before too.
But this time, they were losing not one but two nannies at the same moment. They didn’t have any experience with that. In fact, they were pretty sure no family had ever lost two nannies that way.
They could hardly blame Myron and Martin, of course. By quitting, each brother was being selfless and caring, and deep down, the boys’ parents admired them for that.
But now the Wohlfardts would be nannyless again. And somehow, as Mr. Wohlfardt pointed out, they had to break the doubly sad bulletin to Nazuki and Dazuki. Er, Nathan and David.
Before sharing the bad, bad news with the boys, Mrs. Wohlfardt pressed speed dial number 1 on her phone to make the call she’d made so many times before—to the nanny employment agency to start the search for another new caretaker.
After she hung up, Mr. and Mrs. Wohlfardt left their bedroom and knocked on the boys’ door.
“Come in,” Nathan said sleepily.
David woke up as his parents entered the room. Both boys sat up in their beds.
“What’s wrong, Mom and Dad?” Nathan asked. He’d seen that look on their faces before.
“It’s day thirty. Did you make a decision about who’s staying and who’s going?” David asked. “Because if you can’t decide, we’d be happy to decide for you.”
“Yes,” Nathan said. “At the count of three, we’ll tell you who we want. One . . . two . . . three . . .”
“M—” David started.
“M—” Nathan started.
But their dad interrupted before they could say either “yron” or “artin.”
“Guys, guys, it doesn’t matter who you want,” their dad said. “Because I’m afraid we’ve got some news you’re not going to like.”
“Boys,” their mother said as tenderly as possible, “they’re both . . . gone.”
Nathan and David didn’t understand what their mother meant. So she and Mr. Wohlfardt explained the whole thing about the notes, and about each nanny leaving so his brother could stay and have the job.
Nathan cried a little. So did David. But ne
ither boy really knew if he was crying because Myron and Martin were gone or because the nannies were being so kind to each other.
In a way, it wasn’t important. Because crying is crying, and gone is gone. And as the family would see when they went downstairs to check the nannies’ now empty, formerly shared bedroom, Myron Hyron Dyron and Martin Healey Discount were gone for sure.
It used to be that when Mrs. Wohlfardt called the employment agency, it took them a while to round up some possible nanny candidates for the boys. That’s because word had spread around town that Nathan and David were impossible to deal with, and no one wanted to take (or even interview for) the job.
But recently, the boys’ troublesome reputation had begun to fade away.
So it was only slightly surprising that just an hour after Mrs. Wohlfardt made the call, the front doorbell rang.
“That couldn’t be a new nanny just yet,” Mrs. Wohlfardt said as she ran to answer the door.
But it was.
A new nanny.
At the Wohlfardt front door.
This nanny didn’t have a bushy mustache. In fact, as the boys saw when they rushed to the door, this person had no facial hair at all. Because it was a different type of person than they’d gotten used to lately. It was, in fact . . .
A woman.
A female.
A she.
As Mrs. Wohlfardt welcomed her into their home, the nanny said, “Hello, my name is Mary. I’m here for the nanny position.”
Mr. and Mrs. Wohlfardt introduced the boys to Mary, then asked them to leave the room so they could discuss the job with her.
The boys stomped into the kitchen to make a sandwich and, naturally, a mess.
A few minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. Wohlfardt concluded the interview by hiring Mary to be the boys’ newest nanny. Then they called the twins back into the room. Once Nathan and David had plopped onto the floor, Mrs. Wohlfardt asked the boys to tell Mary all about themselves: where they went to school, what they liked to do, their favorite foods, and so on.
