Stalking the Sitter

Chapter 1

"Rory, please." I plead once more with my feet gracelessly circling the sofa for the umpteenth time this evening. It's already an hour past his bedtime. The sun has gone down hours ago and my prayers for this boy to follow suit have gone unanswered. I drop my head momentarily, in defeat, willing the dull aching in my head to subside. My stamina is no match for this lively five-year-old's. After the first five minutes of this extemporaneous game I was already fatigued. This can either attest to his seemingly bottomless pool of energy or me generally being out of shape.

It is most likely the latter but I'll never admit that out loud.

I halt briefly and dig my fingers in the couch's arm as I watch the ball of energy run around. There is no way I'm running around again, my lungs simply won't allow it, so I decide on a new strategy. With a concentrated brow, I watch and wait for him to lap me again so I can take the opportunity to capture him by the waist. His tiny legs continue to run in the air as if he were in a cartoon. He shrieks excitedly as I drag him closer to my body, impeding his escape. I can't help but giggle along with him as his laughter, much like most children's, is vastly contagious. I give him a moment for his giggles to simmer down before I cautiously seat him on the sofa. I smooth his curly hair out of his face as I lean down to reason with him.

"Rory," I reaffirm in a cool and even voice while looking him in his deep mahogany eyes. My reserve nearly crumbles when his too-long eyelashes bat back at me accompanied with a front-tooth-less smile. His chest is still slightly heaving and the occasional giggle escapes his chest and bubbles out of his lips, but he remains still. "It's already way past your bed time. Your dad wouldn't be happy to see you running around, wouldn't he?"

"No," he answers still somewhat breathless. I can still see some excitement dancing around behind his tired eyes but he doesn't make a run for it when I release him.

"That's right," I nod with a small smile, leaning back to rock on my heels and letting my shoulders slump a little, the weight of my fatigue bearing down on me. "So, let's head to bed. Which pajamas do you want to wear tonight? The astronauts or the cowboys?"

His eyebrows furrow in concentration as he decides. He begins to 'hmm' in contemplation while putting his finger on his tiny chin. I sigh in relief that there is no longer a battle against slumber and that I have successfully distracted him with the much more taxing decision of sleep attire.

"Astronauts!" he declares firmly while jumping off of the sofa and grabbing my hand. I rejoice as he begins to lead me upstairs so he can get ready for bed. "Are you coming tomorrow, Mia?"

"Maybe," I answer while taking his tiny hand into my own. We take our time climbing the long staircase that leads towards his bedroom. "If your parents need me."

"They always need you," he giggles as we meet the landing. He takes off to sprint to his room but I usher him to the bathroom so he can brush his teeth.

It was true. His parents do always need me. Some weeks I feel as though I spend more time with Rory than he does with his own mother or father. I can't fault them too much, however, they both work very demanding jobs to provide for their family. It's just  disheartening how many moments they miss with Rory.