Temporary Nanny

Chapter 1

I'm the first to admit babysitting is not really my thing. I'm not even sure when the last time I was left alone with a child of any age was. But how hard could it be, right? I had baby dolls as a child. I could change a diaper and make a bottle. It's not like they need to be watched 24/7 or need to be let out like dogs.

Then again, at least dogs let you know when they need to go out so it's not a surprise and you don't have to constantly be checking.

I notice about 20 minutes in, this baby seems to like to be spoken to. Which is ridiculous because she can't even understand what anyone is saying. So essentially, I'm in a strangers home having conversations with myself .

"Hope you're happy Stel, my apartments a mess and I'm stuck here talking to myself and making sure you don't get a rash." I sigh at the baby nibbling on her fingers.

She blinks a few times, big gray eyes and long lashes fluttering, before she starts giggling as if I had just told her some sort of joke. "You're cute. I'll give you that." I mutter, flipping through a tattoo magazine I found on the coffee table.

She falls forward, drool-wet fingers reaching for the magazine. "Stella please, you're going to hurt yourself throwing yourself around like that." I set the magazine down for a second, fixing her back into a sitting position before picking it back up.

She hums until I look at her, rocking in her place. "Don't you do it," I warn lightly. She falls forward with a grunt, reaching for the magazine more forcibly this time.

"Alright trouble maker, we can share." I reach for the baby still bundled in her nighttime onesie and set her in my lap.

She takes a certain liking to the colorful tattoos, getting her wet hands all over the pictures and looking up at me with the widest of eyes like each one has just blown her mind.

Look at me go. Charlie the babysitter.

-

Afternoon comes quicker than I'd hoped, Stella waking me from the nap I must have fallen into after putting her down for her own. Stella's not a fussy baby from what I can gather. Or at least not yet, she isn't.

So when I hear her crying it's a bit much, setting my nerves off and a panic rushes through me because I have no idea what's wrong with her and this is why I don't do babies.

Babies are far too complicated and they can't tell you what's wrong and it's all just stressful.

"Shh, please stop crying Stel." I coo, picking her up from her crib. She still doesn't stop, her little lip quivering and her pink chubby cheeks wet with tears. "Please don't look at me like that I don't know what's wrong." I begin feeling bad for the poor thing.

Whatever it is it must be really bothering her and I just want to help in any way I can.

"Shh, look Stel, a lion. Rawr! Look at the lion!" I lower my voice and attempt to get the baby's attention with a stuffed lion nearby. She isn't having it.

Instead, she buries her head in the crook of my neck and continues to wail.

I try walking around the room with her, bouncing her, cooing, and shushing her softly but nothing works. "Stella, please." I plea gently patting her on the back.

Then, the most beautiful sound I've ever heard happens. The tears stop and a tiny little burp sounds. I let out a sigh of relief.

There's a couple more burps and then she pulls away from my neck, blinking at me like she's asking why I look so distressed. Then she lets out possibly the loudest baby fart I've ever heard.