Nanny Nightmare

So nannying hasn't been going so great. The kids hate me. Whenever I tell someone this they always say, "Impossible. Why do you think the kids hate you?" To which I reply, "They tell me they hate me. Regularly." And it's true; they do. They tell me they hate me when I make them complete ridiculous and obviously mean-spirited requests like putting on underwear and stopping at red lights. I am the nanny-nazi in their eyes, which is especially offensive because they're Jewish. On top of being told that I am hated, the six-year-old told me if he had one wish in the world, it would be that I was never born. This, because I made him get in the bath. The four-year-old told me that I have the biggest butt he has ever seen. This, because I made him go to the bathroom before we went to the playground (and because, well, I do kind of have a large ass). And the two-year-old, who can't really say offensive words yet, hits me because I take away his pacifier. In Charlie Sheen world, I am not winning. I think that the hardest part about being hated by these three little boys is that it's never happened before. I don't know how to cope. Kids usually love me! I have references! And I try to do cool projects and try to play fun games with them, but they look at me and see a nanny-swastika on my forehead and they resist. (Are the nazi references offensive? I can't decide..). Anyway, the first month of being a nanny has not been super. I'm no Mary Poppins. I'm not even Fran Drescher. Apparently, I am Hitler.