You want proof that our species is resilient?

Look at the babysitting that kids survive.

When I say kids, I mean two kinds. The kind who survive the horrific experience of being watched by untrained babysitters — and the kind who survive the horrific experience of actually being untrained babysitters.

Me, I’ve belonged to both groups.

I had blocked out the memories of this one babysitter, Kathy something. My sister kindly reminded me of her the other day. She used to bring candy, cookies, whatever. Except she just ate them on her own and made us watch her eat.

Maybe it doesn’t sound especially traumatic. But as we sat and ate celery or carrots, while she ate candy and talked to friends on the phone, we couldn’t help feeling a bit put out.

I tried babysitting a couple of years later, when I was in my teenage years. However, early in my sitter career, this one family was so exhausting and their kids so badly behaved that I made a Scarlett O’Hara pledge when I got home. (“As God is my witness, I will never babysit again.”) Come to think of it, I hated it so much, I preferred laboring in a fast food place. I went on to work in Dairy Queen, Burger King, Wendy’s and a gross Mexican restaurant, to name a few. Those of you who have worked fast food know it’s no hayride. But to me, it was easier than babysitting.

Later, kids seemed cuter to me, and babysitting became appealing again. In fact, I was a swinging single in Washington, D.C., when I heard a newspaper reporter complain about his lack of sleep, his tough life, his colicky little girl, and his need for a break. I foolishly said, “Hey, it can’t be that bad. I’ll babysit!”

At the time, it felt like a way to keep my biological clock from ticking too much. I even refused money for the favor.  I will never forget how confused I was when I walked in the front door and he handed me a long, vinyl smock, like a hairdresser may use, before he and his wife sprinted away. Five hours, constant colic crying, and about 20 vomit incidents later, my friend came home. I never ran for my car so fast.

As a parent the last 13 years, I have used a variety of babysitters, from the good to the bad. We have had a couple of amazing senior citizens who became like family. As for teens, some have been good. But the ones the kids love? The ones they want back, again and again? They are the ones who have fun with the kids.

Now, with two of my children old enough to babysit, I figure there are a couple of things I can do to support this money-making venture. One is to make sure they are trained and go into things with their eyes wide open.

That’s why I am excited the Vashon Park District is offering a “Red Cross Certified Babysitter Training Class” for kids 11 to 15 years old. When I heard they were considering offering a class, I begged the park district to not offer it on a Saturday, when so many of the kids I know play basketball. Instead, the first 12 kids who register get to take advantage of the teacher in-service day on Friday, March 20, and take this class from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. for just $50.

The class teaches about infant care, kid games, constructive discipline and first aid. The class also teaches kids how to market their services, build resumes and more. And the very special location for the class is Parson’s Lodge at Wrangler in beautiful Camp Sealth.

I am excited to sign up my daughter. She is an old soul at 11, with a tremendous love for younger kids and a natural talent for babysitting.

Earlier, I said there are a couple of things I can do to support babysitting. One is to get the kids trained. The other thing? Tell my kids to be the “cool” babysitters. Tell them to bring games, have lots of fun, don’t sit and ignore the kids or just talk on the phone the whole time.

And no matter what, don’t sit and eat candy and cookies in front of your charges and refuse to share. They may just never forget it.

— Lauri Hennessey is a mother and public relations professional.