WANTED:

One young woman to take care of four-year-old boy.  Must be cheerful, enthusiastic, and selfless--bordering on masochistic.  Must relish sixteen-hour shifts with a deliberately nap-deprived preschooler.  Must love geting thrown up on, literally and figuratively, by everyone in his family.  Must enjoy the delicious anticipation of ridiculously erratic pay.  Mostly, must love being treated like fungus found growing out of employer's Hermes bag.  Those who take it personally need not apply.

 

Who wouldn't want this job?  Struggling to graduate from NYU and afford her microscopic studio apartment, Nanny takes a position caring for the only son of the wealthy X family.  She rapidly learns the insane amount of juggling involved to ensure that a Park Avenue wife, who doesn't work, cook, clean, or raise her own child, has a smooth day.

When the X's marriage begins to disintegrate, Nanny ends up involved way beyond the bounds of human decency or good taste.  Her tenure with the X family becomes a nearly impossible mission to maintain the mental health of their four-year-old, her own integrity, and, most important, her sense of humor.  Over nine tense months, Mrs. X and Nanny perform the age-old dance of decorum and power as they test the limits of modern-day servitude.

Praise

"A national phenomenon." -Newsweek

 

"Diabolically funny." -The New York Times

 

"[Nanny is] Mary Poppins channeling Dorothy Parker." -Time

 

"Impossible to put down." -Vogue

 

"McLaughlin and Kraus...[have a] carefully calibrated sense of compassion and delicious sense of the absurd." -Entertainment Weekly

 

About the Author(s)

By Emma Mclaughlin and Nicola Kraus

Nicola Kraus and Amme McLaughlin write together in New York City.

Excerpt

PROLOGUE

The Interview

Every season of my nanny career kicked off with a round of interviews so surreally similar that I'd often wonder if the mothers were slipped a secret manual at the Parents League to guide them through. This initial encounter became as repetitive as religious ritual, tempting me, in the moment before the front door swung open, either to kneel and genuflect or say, "Hit it!"

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