“Thank you so much for doing this, Callie,” Paris says with a huge smile as she grabs her bag to leave.
I arrived at Luke’s place ten minutes ago, and she gave me a quick tour and a few instructions for Sean’s dinner and bedtime.
“Anytime. I’m happy to help wherever I can.”
She reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Luke hit gold with you.”
“I feel the same way.”
She sighs and a dreamy look floats across her face. “Love. I can’t wait to experience it one day.” She swipes her keys off the kitchen counter. “I better go. Otherwise, I’ll be late for my shift.”
She exits the house in a mad whirlwind. She informed me she’s studying nursing and has to take on shifts at the hospital. Apparently, she can usually get shifts that work in with Luke, but not tonight.
“Callie!” Sean’s panicked voice echoes through the house, and I freeze with my own panic.
What the hell were you thinking offering to babysit a four-year-old?
You have zero experience with children.
And now you want to potentially kill Luke’s offspring?
Oh, shut up.
I run towards where his voice came from and find him standing near the toilet with a sad expression on his face. “I had an accident. I weed my pants.”
Oh, the poor little poppet.
“It’s okay. I can get you some clean clothes.”
His brow furrows, and he looks at me like I am stupid. “Silly, I need a bath. I’m dirty.”
Right.
I knew that.
He stares at me, clearly waiting for me to make the next move. I wonder exactly how smart four-year-olds are. I mean, is he smart enough to know I have no fucking clue what I’m doing?
Fake it until you make it.
Quick, just run the damn bath.
“Okay, let’s get you in the bath then.” I head into the bathroom and drop to my knees in front of the bath. Turning the taps, I say, “How hot do you like it?”
“I like it really hot, but Daddy doesn’t.”
“Well, Daddy would know best, so I won’t make it too hot.”
“Maybe we could have it hot. I won’t tell Daddy.”
I turn to look at him. He’s watching me with expectation. And as much as I don’t know Sean, I recognise the sneaky glint in his eyes.
Oh, God, what was I thinking wondering how smart four-year-olds are? Maybe they’re not all smart, but this one certainly is.
I smile. “Sorry, mate, but we have to do what Daddy says.” As much as I want to win him over, I’m not doing it by upsetting Luke.
He shrugs. “Maybe we could have extra ice cream later instead.”
Dear Lord.
Is this going to go on all night?
A girl’s only got so much willpower, and those puppy-dog eyes he’s using on me might just crush my strength.
I decide it might be best to ignore that for the moment. I jerk my chin at him. “Let’s get these clothes off you. And then we can talk about what games you play in the bath.”
His eyes light up at that. Stepping closer to me, he lifts his arms for me to take his shirt off. “Paris has ice cubes we play with. They’re in the freezer.”
I finish taking his clothes off. “That sounds like fun. Let’s go get them.”
The bath is slowly filling up, so I have plenty of time to grab the ice cubes. I have no clue why playing with them would be fun for a child, but then again, my parents were never about the fun.
A few moments later, I’ve located the cubes, and I realise why Sean loves this. They are coloured. I would totally have loved to play with coloured cubes that melt in the bath, too.
I pass the tray to him and let him carry it back to the bathroom. He guards it zealously as we walk, and I smile at his determination. I love how something so simple as coloured ice cubes are this important to him.
The bath has enough water in it when we return, so I turn the taps off and help him in. He immediately begins emptying the trays, and soon we have a bath full of colour. His excitement is contagious, and we spend the next ten minutes splashing around and laughing. There’s possibly a little too much water on the floor, but I was so caught up in playing that I didn’t notice it happening.
“Uh, oh,” he says as he eyes the floor. His gaze meets mine. “Daddy won’t be happy about that.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. Pressing my finger to my lips, I say, “Shhh, we’ll clean it up before he gets home.”
Oh, God, I am going to hell.
Do not pass go, do not collect $200.00.
Straight to hell for encouraging a child to withhold the truth from their parent.
His mouth curls up in a cheeky grin, and he nods. “Yeah.”
I spend the next ten minutes cleaning him and then drying and dressing him. When he stands in front of me in his bedroom all clean and happy, I feel a sense of accomplishment.
Maybe I can do this kid thing after all.
“Callie, I’m really hungry.”
I place my hand on his head and mess his hair a little. “Paris made you spaghetti. How good does that sound?” Before she left, she mentioned that he can be a little fussy with his food. She warned that I might struggle with dinner.