Written: Dec 23rd, 2018

I hope you enjoy!

Before you yell at me for almost throwing this 2-year-old out of the window, let me tell you this: my only qualification for being a baby sitter, is that I used to be a baby. And even that was 17 years ago.

Let's rewind to when Mr. And Mrs. IDon'tCareAboutMyKids left me in charge of their two year old so they could go to the Great-ancient-monk-of-peace-mountain and learn yoga.

They also want me to believe that this piece of junk is my brother.

"I want... Play!" He said, after digging through his pea sized memory for the word.

"Play." I deadpanned. This toddler really gets ahead of himself if he thinks he can order me around.

"Play games!" He clapped.

I smiled, not really sure what to play. Oh, if only smiles could kill.

"Why are you making that face?" He asked. Maybe my smile looked more like a grimace.

"It's my shut-your-hole-or-I'll-blow-your-peanut-brains-out face. You like?" I folded my arms and raised an eyebrow.

He shook his head, and grinned like an idiot.

"What?" I demanded.

"What, what?"

"What, what what?"

"What, what what what?"

"What was that stupid grin for, you dimwit?"

He giggled, and crawled away. I resumed my position on the couch, bored. The TV screen was playing Bob The Builder, which obviously didn't interest this pathetic offspring.

Nothing can come out of grumbling in my head, so I decided to make myself popcorn and watch a movie – ooh, Fallout, maybe.

With that motivation, I ninja-ed my way over the plastic toys littering the floor and tossed the popcorn bag into the microwave.

THUD-THUD-THUDTHUD!

I cursed under my breath and ran upstairs, hoping and praying that child didn't touch my books.

When I slammed the door open, I saw him in all his diapered glory, on top of my bookshelf, his hands glued to War and Prejudice.

Now I mean "glued" in a literal sense. The sticky liquid covered nearly every inch of the child, and a few of my other books. He looked at me trying to pull off the "I'm so cute nobody ever hurts me no matter what I do," look. Not working, buddy. I shoot him one of my own menacing looks and he cowers slightly in fear. I could strangle this kid right now.

But first, priorities. I rushed over to my book.

"What do you think you're doing?" I cradled the book in my arms, but with that thing's hand morbidly attached to it.

I picked it up, but the baby was drawn up with it. I held the book tightly and shook it, but the stupid baby just mimicked the book.

"Get off!" I bellowed, trying to shake the kid off, but I suspected he was trying his best not to leave the book.

Before I even realised, I was across the room, near the conveniently open window with the toddler dangling from it, his grip slipping ever so slightly from the book.

Fantastic.

And then, the doorbell rings.

Fantastic.