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Chapter 1

"Alright, who wants ice cream?" I said, pulling the tub out of the freezer. There was a chorus of "I do!" followed by some excited jumping.

"Okay," I looked at the three kids sternly. "But if you're going to have dessert, you have to hurry up and put your pyjamas on."

Leon, the youngest of the three, sighed dramatically. "You already told us three times that we have to get dressed," he said, holding up four fingers, one hand on his hip.

This was my first time babysitting for the Scott family (who were my neighbours), and I have to say, I loved it. Sure, they were hard work, but they were also hilarious.

"Well, hon, if you did it the first time I asked you, I wouldn't have to keep nagging, would I?" I chuckled and ruffled his hair. "George, since you're the only one dressed, can you get me four spoons out? Liliana and Leon, get dressed or there'll be no ice cream."

George gave his younger siblings a smug look and moved to get me the spoons. The other two huffed and puffed for a minute, but eventually gave in and put their pyjamas on. I gave them their ice cream and we all settled down to watch Fireman Sam.

"Thank you for the ice cream, Annabeth." Liliana looked up at me with her huge blue eyes.

"You're welcome, sweetie."

Leon turned to me with a stern look on his face. "We're going to watch just one show, okay? And then we're going to go to bed and talk for half an hour."

I laughed. "That seems reasonable." Leon gave a curt nod and turned back to the TV. Only four years old and already so business-like.

"Actually, we'll talk for one hundred minutes." He turned back around and pointed his spoon at me.

"No Leon, it's too late for that. You can talk for half an hour. Now put your spoon back in your bowl before you drip ice cream onto the floor."

He put the spoon back in the bowl. "We'll talk for 50 minutes."

"You'll talk for half an hour."

"Forty minutes."

"Half an hour." I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing.

"Okay, fine, thirty minutes. But not half an hour."

"You have a deal." I thought it best not to tell him they were the same thing, or else he'd go back to negotiating.

Leon held out a hand, and I shook it (then cleaned the ice cream off it with a wipe when he wasn't looking).

When Fireman Sam ended, the kids took themselves off to brush their teeth, and I gathered the bowls and spoons and took them to the sink.

When I joined them in the bathroom, they were all peacefully brushing their teeth. Or rather, their equivalent of peace. George was already spitting and rinsing, Liliana had toothpaste in her hair but was otherwise doing a great job, and Leon was sitting on the floor, wrestling quietly with the tube of toothpaste.

"Do you need a hand, buddy?" I asked him.

"No, I can do it. I'm four, you know."

"I know, I can't believe how old you're getting." I ruffled his blonde hair affectionately.

"Stop doing that." He attempted to smooth his hair back down, and ended up tracking toothpaste through it.

"Dude," I laughed. "Wash your hands and take off your clothes. Liliana and George, go to bed. I'm going to give Leon a shower, and then I'll come in to read you a book, okay?" They left the room obediently. I turned to Leon, who now had clean hands, but had his pants around his ankles and his head stuck in his shirt.