Sleepyhead

Hot and Relatively Bothered

I was on baby duty.

Operation distract Sutton with Baby Lux was a go. As in, Astrid had noticed my lack of focus and slash or complete anger towards Reed and decided that it would be best if we were separated. And so, instead of doing my usual posters and merch and catering to those boys’ every need, I was sent off to play with Lux whilst Lou fixed up all that pelo.

And because I was A. lazy and B. conflicted up the wazoo, I welcomed the job. How hard could taking care of an adorable baby that was loved by half the world? Definitely not too hard, seeing as even Harry babysat her from time to time and he was the definition of distracted.

(Or you know the best with babies in the band. But shh, I’m trying to reassure myself here.)

But so far Baby Lux was proving to be a much tougher challenge than I thought. Not only was I unqualified to tend to a baby, but Lux was not my biggest fan. And by not my biggest fan I mean Lux really, really didn’t like me.

Also I didn’t know how to hold a baby. So sue me.

Lou gave me a look when she first handed her to me. Lou is normally the most trusting and lovely of all the people I work with (she totally gave me a haircut last week and oh my god it looks amazing), but when it comes to me and taking care of a living thing (especially her only child, mind you) there was something very mama bear about her.

Who would’ve known, honestly?

Thus far Baby Lux has pooed and cried and vomited and pooed again. A total of six times. And I guess that’s not so much as signs of her disliking me so much as typical baby phenomena, but still. Baby Lux had it out to get me.

And, well to be completely honest I wasn’t doing it alone. Once Lou saw that I didn’t even know how to hold a baby, she grabbed her husband by the shoulder and yanked him in my direction and said, “Watch her.”

And at first I was totally certain she meant Baby Lux, which turned out to be totally false seeing as Tom spent most of his time making sure I wasn’t running off instead of his own daughter.

(Who isn’t actually a baby anymore so I’m not sure why we all refer to her as Baby Lux, but hey, names stick. I was Snotnosed Sutton for about three years in primary school after an unfortunate incident with a rather large bubble of slime that happened to pop out of my nose when I was six. SIX! And truth be told it might have wiped on Penny Freedman. But it was hardly that much and she got to go home that day because it was so “emotionally scarring” or whatever. She’s hated me ever since. Damn. Children can really hold a grudge.)

So the show wasn’t going to start for another five hours or so, and the fans had successfully been camped outside the arena for what seemed like going on three days (and by the two girls I asked, three hours and forty five minutes and counting).  Which meant that the boys were all ready with nothing to do except A. nap (which sounded like the best fucking time on the planet if you asked me), B. play video games or football or something not really that interesting in the dressing room, or C. go outside behind the safety of the chain link fence and chat with fans.

And for some reason, the idiots chose the latter. (Save for Zayn, who was, you guessed it, back in the dressing room snoozing on the sofa.) And so me and Lux were running around the tour buses (playing tag or something I don’t know, she didn’t really talk much) while Niall chased after us with his hands as pinchers (he’d grabbed my bum like six times already that bitch), Harry followed Lux around to make sure she didn’t hurt herself.

Louis and Liam had stolen a golf cart and were currently riding it around into madness. Or something. With those two, it could never mean anything good.