"Baa-llleeeet? Do-you-un-der-stand!" the woman next to me rudely shouts to her nodding companion as we wait for the light to change. "On Mondays Josephina has Baaaaaa-lleeeeeeet!"

I smile sympathetically at the uniformed woman to show solidarity. No bones about it, training just plain sucks. And it sucks significantly harder, depending on who you're working for.

There are essentially three types of nanny gigs. Type A, I provide "couple time" a few nights a week for people who work all day and parent most nights. Type B, I provide "sanity time" a few afternoons a week to a woman who mothers most days and nights. Type C, I'm brought in as one of a cast of many to collectively provide twenty-four/seven "me time" to a woman who neither works nor mothers. And her days remain a mystery to us all.

"The agency said you can cook. Can you? Cook?" a Pucci-clad mother interrogates on the next corner.

As a working woman herself, the Type A mother will relate to me as a professional and treat me with respect. She knows I've arrived to do my job and, after a thorough tour, will hand me a comprehensive list of emergency numbers and skedaddle. This is the best transition a nanny can hope for. The child sobs for, at most, fifteen minutes, and before you know it we're bonding over Play-Doh.

The Type B mother may not work in an office, but she logs enough hours with her child to recognize it for the job it is and, following an afternoon of hanging around the apartment together, her kids are all mine for the second date.

"Now the dry cleaner's number is on there and the florist and the caterer."

"What about the doctor for the children?" the Mexican woman next to me asks quietly.

"Oh. I'll get you that next week."

Suffice it to say that the quirk factor sharply increases as one moves along the spectrum from A to C. The only thing predictable about training with a Type C mother is that her pervasive insecurity forces everyone to take the longest possible route to getting in sync.

I push open the heavy glass door of the patisserie and see Mrs. X already seated, going over her own list. She stands, revealing a lavender knee-length skirt, which perfectly matches the cardigan tied around her shoulders. No longer in her youthful white shift, she looks older than she did in the park. Despite her girlish ponytail I'm guessing she's in her early forties. "Hi, Nanny, thanks so much for meeting me early. Would you like some coffee?"

"That sounds perfect, thank you," I say, taking a seat with my back to the wood-paneled wall and smoothing the damask napkin onto my lap.

"Waiter, another cafe au lait and could you bring us a breadbasket?"

"Oh, you don't need to do that," I say.

"Oh, no, it's the best. That way you can pick what you want." The waiter brings over a Pierre Deux basket brimming with breads and little jars of jam. I help myself to a brioche.

"They have the best pastry here," she says, taking a croissant. "Which reminds me, I prefer that Grayer stay away from refined flour."

"Of course," I mumble, mouth full.

"Did you have a nice weekend?"

I quickly swallow. "Sarah-my best friend from Chapin-had a little farewell party last night before everyone goes back to school. Now it's just me and the California people-who have off till October! Tell Grayer to go to Stanford," I laugh.

She smiles.

"So, why'd you transfer from Brown?" she asks, pulling one claw off her croissant.

"They had a stronger child development program at NYU," I reply, trying to tread lightly here, in case I'm talking to a steadfast Brown alum, choosing not to mention the human excrement in the lounge next to my room, or any other of the myriad of charming anecdotes I could share.

"I really wanted to go to Brown," she says.

"Oh?"

"But I won a scholarship to UConn." She drops the croissant to play with the diamond heart dangling from her necklace.

"That's great," I say, trying to imagine a time when she would have needed a scholarship to do anything.

"Well, I'm from Connecticut, so ..."

"Oh! Connecticut's beautiful," I say.

She glances down at her plate. "Actually, it was New London so ... Well, after graduation I move

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