We pay our nanny £14 ph in southwest London, if that helps. She’s self-employed so that includes tax, NI, etc.
Onefineday
“She’s self-employed so that includes tax, NI, etc.”
Nannies can’t be self-employed. She’s lying to you—probably because she doesn’t have the right paperwork.
Lewishamdad
Registered childminder = £7 ph
Nursery = £8.50 ph
Nanny = £13–£18 ph
Mother’s help aged 18–20 = £5.90 (special minimum wage for this age group)
Wouldn’t recommend a mother’s help though. Ironically the one we had wasn’t much help.
Onefineday
“Ironically the one we had wasn’t much help.”
Perhaps you gave her an easy ride because she was a young girl.
Silverback71
Sounds like your best option is a nanny share. A qualified nanny will understand the relevant child development issues, there’ll be at least one other child to interact with, and the cost will be comparable to a nursery.
Lewishamdad
“Perhaps you gave her an easy ride because she was a young girl.”
I’m not even going to respond to that, Onefineday.
Onefineday
And yet you did.
Whosthedaddy
Fight, fight, fight…
Onefineday
Handbags at dawn.
Homedad85
Thanks to everyone who’s answered. Having considered, I reckon our best bet is another nursery. I think I have to come clean though and tell them about the hitting—it may put some off, but at least if they take him it’s because they’re confident they can deal with it.
36
PETE
I SOON DISCOVERED, THOUGH, honesty wasn’t the best policy.
There was another nursery nearby, but when I explained that Theo had been a little rough with another child, they point-blank refused to take him, citing “staff shortages.” Strangely, they hadn’t mentioned any staff shortages when they were telling me about the fees.
I phoned the only other nursery within walking distance. They had a three-month waiting list. I put Theo on it, just in case.
“It’s not even that I mind being with him all day,” I told Maddie that evening after a fruitless afternoon of googling and phoning. “It’s just clearly not the right thing for him to be isolated from other kids right now. It’s them he needs to learn to play with, not me.”
She topped up her wine. “There’s bound to be a place somewhere.”
The doorbell rang. Maddie didn’t stir, so I went to answer it before whoever it was rang again. At that time of night, it was probably Deliveroo with a takeaway for next door, which was annoying because Theo had only just gone down and the bell was almost certain to wake him.
It was Miles.
“Surprise,” he said. “Hope that’s all right. I was passing, so I thought I’d drop by and see my two favorite boys. And girl, of course. Hi, Maddie.” As he stepped inside he raised the Hamleys bag he was holding. “This is only for one of you, though.”
I took it. Inside was an electronic fire station—I could tell from the box it was going to be all flashing lights, whirring machines, and beeping buttons. Theo would love it, but in a small house like ours it would drive me crazy. “Thanks, Miles. Theo’s gone down for the night, actually.”
“Already?” Miles looked crestfallen. “I was hoping to give it to him myself. It’s only just gone seven.”
“He didn’t have a nap today.” I kept my voice low so it wouldn’t float up the stairs. “And it’s been a long day for all of us.”
“Theo’s been kicked out of nursery, and Pete’s been scouring north London for a new one,” Maddie explained.
“What!” Miles was outraged. “Kicked out? Why?”
“He hit Zack over the head with a tumbler.”
“He’s two, for Christ’s sake!”
“Exactly what I said.” There was a long, drawn-out yell from the baby monitor. Miles’s outrage had woken Theo.
“What do you think? Shall we bring him down?” Maddie asked me.
I shook my head. Theo and I had a whole bedtime routine worked out—showing Mummy what we’d made today, bath, milky drink, quiet time, story. Breaking it would mean starting again. Plus he’d only learn that he could get up whenever he liked, if he yelled loud enough.
“Special occasion, though,” Miles said winningly. “You could show him his present.” He caught the look on my face. “Or maybe not. Best leave them to cry. Your parenting style and all that.”
“Actually, we don’t just leave him,” I began, but then Miles snapped his fingers.
“I’m being dim. Theo doesn’t need a nursery. You can share our nanny.”
Maddie and I exchanged glances. “Are you sure?” Maddie asked.
Miles nodded. “Of course. It’s the perfect solution. Theo and David will get to spend time together, and it’ll be good for David to be around another kid—it might even help him catch up a bit.”
“We should talk about the cost,” I began, but Miles waved the objection away.
“Forget it. We’ll settle up when the compensation comes through. It’ll be a pleasure to have Theo at ours.”
“And we’d need to work out a few ground rules.”
“Like what?”
“Well…How much time the nanny spends in each house, for example.”
“Really?” Miles looked around, clearly puzzled. “I mean, you want to work, don’t you? You couldn’t really share this room with a nanny and a couple of two-year-olds and expect to get any writing done. But listen, anything you want to change about the setup, just say. That’s how this whole thing works, isn’t it? Like you said in your article—the original one, I mean. Dialogue and compromise.”
“It does sound like a pretty good solution to me,” Maddie said. Which was slightly disloyal of her, because she must have realized that, for reasons I couldn’t altogether articulate, I was feeling slightly uneasy about this proposal and was trying to think of ways to get out of it, or at least not to commit to it before I’d thought it through.
“And you’ll get to see more of David,” Miles added. He looked from one to the other of us. “That is what you want, isn’t it?”