The Terrible Twos

  In the back of my mind I was worried: I’m a childless middle-aged spinster, what do I know about children? But my neighbor across the hall was insistent I would make a great babysitter. And her two boys always do look quite adorable when I pass them in the corridor.

  “Please, Annabelle, just this once,” Marie pleaded with me. “John’s away on business and my mother is ill. I need to stay with her Friday night for a few hours.”

  Hesitation stopped words of agreement from leaving my lips.

  “They’ll be bathed and fed, all you’ll have to do is read them a bedtime story,” said Marie, a hopeful smile on her face.

  How could I say no?

***

  The two tow-headed tots appeared to be dozing to a cartoon on my arrival and my fears abated. Their footy pajamas and flushed cheeks tugged on my heart. This may be easier than I thought, reassuring myself.

  No sooner had Marie closed the door behind her than did screams of joy erupt from the children. Toys flew into the air, balls assailed my person, and plastic cars scaled my feet.

  Panic crept in. I am so going to regret this.

  Just when I thought the neighbors would start calling the police for the ear-piercing shrieks of my charges, there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find my salvation in Mrs. Sanchez, our fellow neighbor.

  “Oh! I didn’t know Marie found you to watch the boys,” she said, stepping into the apartment. “My daughter was visiting and I didn’t think I could make it. You can go home now.” The delighted boys ran into her familiar welcoming arms.

  Back in the quiet safety of my home, I sank into the comfort of my predictable life, door firmly locked behind me.