Who the hell thought making me a Half-blood was a good idea? {ON HOLD}

Act One-I hate babysitters with a passion

Disclaimer: The world of Percy Jackson, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of Rick Riordan and his publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author or the actors/actresses who so brilliantly have brought them to life.This author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country.

My problem with being reincarnated is that I have to do everything all over again. What should have been my rest, has become my torment.

Don't get me wrong, I love my new mother, but learning how to speak again? Bullshit. I can barely babble along to the mind numbing Barney the Dinosaur my Mãe put on; I hate learning to reuse all my senses! Trying not to accidentally hit myself with my own hands has become my own punishment from hell.

Another horrible thing, nobody tells me what's going on!

Sure, I wouldn't really expect you to explain everything that's going on to an eight month-old baby, but the thought would be nice.

Right now, I'm watching as my Mãe rushes around the bedroom from my crib, hastily getting ready for something. She wasn't getting me ready, and that's what was confusing me to no end- surely it's too early for her maternity leave to be over?

There's a knock on the door that grabs my attention. Now, who could that possibly be? We don't have visitors very often, maybe it's a neighbour needing something? Or a postman with a package?

I hear Mãe open the door in the other room, "Ay, hola señora, es bueno que hayas venido!" (Oh, hello ma'am, it's so good that you've come!)

Huh?

"Si, si. Donde estas su hija? Ella estás tan bonita en las fotos!" An unknown woman's voice comes from the direction of the living room. (Yes, yes. Where is your daughter? She's so pretty in the photos!)

"Oh gracias. Ella está en mi habitación, déjame presentarte a ella!" I can hear my Mãe's footsteps approach my crib. (Oh thank you. She's in my room, let me introduce you to her!)

What's going on? That's not a postman?

-

This old abuelita is NOT a postman.

Señora Carmen is apparently my new babysitter as my Mãe goes back to work and night school. I already dislike her.

She's nice and all, but she is not at all equipped to handle a baby that has an adult's memories. La Señora only speaks spanish, which is fine by me since I'm already fluent in it from my past life, but she seems determined to tell me all about her life in Cuba as a professional Salsa dancer and it's driving me insane.

I remember once being told that when your elders speak you should listen because they might impart wisdom or tell you their great secrets; but I don't think I'm learning any great secrets or wisdom from her tales of salacious secret meetings with her Salsa dancing partner. Damn, this woman has enough dramatic stories from Cuba to become a full Telenovela story!

When will she STOP?

-

The answer of 'when will she stop?' is 'when it's time to eat and sleep.'

Señora Carmen made some horrible banana mush as my dinner that I happily spat all over her. The audacity to give me something so bland tasting. But then she gave me cinnamon rice pudding for dessert, so I suppose she isn't that bad.

She tried to put me down for a nap straight after that though, and I was not having that. Damn it woman! I had a nap just before you arrived, three hours ago! Why would I have another one right now?

She tutted at my tantrum, placing me on her hip as she bounced me around the house. "Shh, shh, dormir mi amor. Tu tienes que dormir." (Sleep my love. You have to sleep)

I ignored her and continued screaming. I hate this. I hate her! I want my Mãe!

Señora Carmen sat down on my rocking chair and began to rock backwards and forward. "Ay, que es la musica que tu madre cantas a tu?" (Oh, what's the song that your mother sings to you?)

That throws me off. My Mãe's song?

"Ah, si!" The abuelita laughs, and begins to croone:

"Nana neném
Que a cuca vem pegar
Papai foi na roça
Mamãe foi trabalhar"

That's my lullaby! How does she know my lullaby?

"Boi, boi, boi
Boi da cara preta
Pega esse menino
Que tem medo de careta"

Well, she isn't a bad singer. And she does sing it quite well...

"Boi, boi, boi
Boi da cara preta
Pega esse menino
Que tem medo de careta

Bicho papão, sai de cima do telhado
E deixa este menino dormir sossegado
Bicho papão, sai de cima do telhado
E deixa este menino dormir sossegado"

In fact, as I drift off, I think that she isn't that bad of a babysitter after all.