The TV version of the Ann M. Martin book series is now on Netflix. And it is giving me a heart attack.
Like countless other American girls, I read The Baby-Sitters Club book series. I was not obsessed, but I remember thinking this pack of middle schoolers who ran a baby-sitting business seemed pretty alright, especially that chick Claudia because she was "artsy."
So along comes Netflix, updating its supply of Shows You've Already Seen and Shows You'll Never Watch, with the single-season TV version of The Baby-Sitters Club. Yes, I will be part of the crowd who still labels The Baby-Sitters Club "awesome" in conversation, however after putting myself through several episodes, I now find I am confused and weirded out by the entire The Baby-Sitters Club concept. Allow me to explain.
So this "business" is a ring of minors running the entire baby-sitting industry in this town?
Well, actually, is it a "club" or is it a "business"? They conduct meetings and hold business hours with these official attitudes, except they all seem to be there because they love baby-sitting? I have issues with both of these things — how do 13-year-old girls manage to stay organized enough to run a business and on what planet do they relish spending their extra time with 2nd graders?
The money is for...what, exactly?
Obviously, these chicks are drumming up some great business and raking in some bucks. But no one seems to actually be profiting. They all have to pay dues to the club and then they're seemingly always blowing their wad of cash on these things called "Kid Kits," which contain craft supplies for the kids they baby-sit. But, as Stacey explains here, it was worth it because a boy who presumably still wets the bed made her a cool picture.
At least put it towards a Victoria's Secret push-up bra that gets passed around.
