Nanny for New York’s mega-wealthy reveals what REALLY goes on behind closed doors – as she details the wildest demands made by parents

A former nanny who counts some of New York’s biggest billionaires among her clients has revealed the wild excesses that go on behind the heavily guarded doors of their multi-million dollar homes.

In Wanted: Toddler’s Personal Assistant, Stephanie Kiser investigates the outrageous demands that the city’s most privileged parents make on behalf of their spoiled children.

One mother even expected to take medications to stimulate milk production so she could breastfeed her baby.

“The mother didn’t want to pump at work, but she also wanted her child to be exclusively breastfed,” Stephanie explains. “So she sought out a sitter who was familiar with inducing breastfeeding.

“She hoped she would find ‘help’ who was willing to try things she had read could help non-pregnant women produce milk, such as hormone-like medications or herbal remedies.”

Stephanie wondered if the request was even legal and gave up hard. But the problem with this kind of off-the-books housework, she says, is that it’s completely unregulated, so often anything goes when it comes to the job description.

And some demands are more attractive than others.

An interviewer asked her, “Do you like going grocery shopping in a Porsche? Those are the only cars we have.”

The answer, of course, was yes.

Stephanie was only 22 and a recent college graduate, but she grew to love the first family she worked for, quickly becoming accustomed to standing at the school pickup truck alongside Steve Martin, Drew Barrymore, and Robert De Niro.

But when it came time to move on, she discovered the much more bizarre aspects of the industry.

A potential client she calls Mrs. Robertson — who lives with her elderly former CEO husband in a $9 million apartment on the Upper East Side — was looking for a nanny to be her “eyes and ears.”

“Nothing can happen that I don’t know about,” she told Stephanie.

‘We always have one to two nannies. You work five days on, two days off. The five days on are live-in.

“During your shift, you will need to wake Frederick at 6:30. Make sure he has brushed his teeth, packed his backpack, and put on deodorant. The chef has his breakfast ready at 7:00 and he needs to eat it all. He needs the nutrients for his busy day.”

Her duties also included ordering any clothing and toiletries Frederick would need, supervising his after-school activities, and making sure he showered in the evening.

“You put him to bed before lights out at 10 p.m.,” his mother instructed. But Stephanie’s workday wasn’t quite over yet.

“Once he’s in bed, you and I will get together and discuss his day. You should take notes as you talk so you can keep me informed of his moods, any problems, any concerns. It’s all about communication.”

She added: ‘My son has recently rebelled. He thinks he doesn’t need nannies anymore. He doesn’t want them…’

“Oh no,” Stephanie said. “How old is he?”

Little Frederick was 17.

The job paid him $90,000 a year, with a $25,000 cash bonus paid after he had lived with the family for two years.

“As I said, my son is not exactly happy with his caregivers,” his mother told her. “He can be quite hostile to them, so to speak. But that’s why I instituted the bonus system. A sort of ‘survival prize’, if you will.”

No nanny has ever made it this far. Needless to say, Stephanie didn’t take the job.

During yet another ‘nanny audition’ – for a judge and his germ-phobic wife – she had to protect two toddlers from contact with the outside world.

Their clothes had to be washed immediately after they undressed. Neither child had ever been on a play date and the three-year-old had never had a cold.

The children even took individual gymnastics lessons to avoid exposure to other children’s germs.

Stephanie did a three-day trial with them, starting at 6:30 in the morning and finishing at 6:30 in the evening.

“When the mother asks me to please sneeze outside the apartment, I decide to move on,” she writes.

Her next adventure was with five-year-old Digby, a ‘hateful’ child who purposely pooped his pants every day.

“He’s been toilet trained for three years, uses the toilet whenever he wants, and is fully aware that this behavior is unacceptable,” Stephanie writes. “Yet he continues to do it, and his mother continues to make me hand-wash his dirty underwear.”

“He’s just so smart,” his mother Stefany would say. “He can’t stop whatever he’s doing to go. He was so focused on his LEGO creation that he literally couldn’t stop to go to the bathroom.”

But when Stephanie asked if she could just throw away a particularly dirty pair of underwear, his mother barked, “Absolutely not. These are linen boxers; do you know how much they cost a pair? Put them in the sink and scrape them out.”

Digby had been sitting in his poop for a while and bits had hardened on the fabric. Stephanie was instructed that the ‘correct’ way to remove it was to scrape it off with her bare nails.

Shortly after, she handed in her resignation, and the babysitting agency responded with a resigned sigh.

“The last nanny we placed with them lasted even less time than you did,” they told her. “One afternoon she went out to lunch and just never came back. Stefany thought she had been murdered or kidnapped, but the girl told us she was fine; she just couldn’t work for that woman one more moment.”

The family that invited her to work in the Hamptons for a weekend seemed more promising — especially after a Google search for her new boss, Mr. Boyston, revealed that he one of New York’s 105 billionaires.

However, the conditions were even tougher than in her previous jobs: 24-hour shifts four days – and her last day in the Hamptons proved to be the last straw.

She and the boy were playing in the garden when Mr Boyston approached him and asked his son if he wanted to come with him to their moored yacht, which was a five-minute walk away.

The boy screams with excitement, and then the father calls out, “Felipe!”

‘Within seconds, a small man with tanned skin and broken English appears. “Yes, Mr. Boyston?”

‘Mr. Boyston orders the clerk to bring a golf cart. Felipe disappears, then suddenly shoots up and loads Mr. Boyston and the boy into the cart.’

He pointed down the hill, to an unseen point in the distance, and said to Stephanie, “The boat is down there. Just follow the path to the water. Just run after us and meet us there.”

Stefanie wasn’t sure she understood, so he asked if he meant she should run after the golf cart instead of riding next to it.

“Yes,” he replied, “so that you arrive a little later than us.”

“I can’t keep an eye on him while I’m on the boat,” he said, clarifying. “I’m going fishing.”

Stefanie writes: ‘I spend 60 seconds chasing a fat billionaire and his baby when I decide this is the last day I will ever see these people.’

Wanted: Personal Assistant for Toddlers: How Nannying for the 1% Taught Me about the Myths of Equality, Motherhood, and Upward Mobility in America by Stephanie Kiser is published by Sourcebooks.