My Littles | Teen Ink

My Littles MAG

May 7, 2014
By clemon BRONZE, Clinton, Connecticut
clemon BRONZE, Clinton, Connecticut
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

“Do you even like kids?” Sarah asked without raising her eyes from her phone.

This question caught me off guard, especially coming from one of my best friends, whom I assumed knew me well. Truth was, I didn’t even know if I liked kids. I’d never given it much thought.

“Yeah! Of course I like kids!” I replied resolutely, despite my indecisiveness. I resolved to say anything to get her off my back, especially since it wasn’t my fault I had to babysit on movie night.

“You seriously can’t see ‘Catching Fire’ with us tonight? Whatever, I’ll Facetime you later, I guess.”

A few moments later the school bell sliced right through my eardrums. Talk about things you don’t want to hear a half hour after waking up, especially after realizing your dad’s social life is interfering with yours. I was supposed to babysit that night because my dad was going out with a woman named Krissie who had three kids. I was a little bit irritated, seeing as I didn’t have much choice in the matter, but I was getting paid, which was sort of a consolation for being forced to play with a five-, seven-, and 12-year old on a Friday night.

A few hours later my dad pulled into Krissie’s driveway with me riding shotgun. A thin stone path led up to the patio, and a folding table with a red vinyl tablecloth caught my eye as I walked in. Upon it sat six boxes of cornstarch and four rectangular aluminum pans. A little Italian woman slid open the door and stepped out with arms extended and a big smile.

She greeted me with a loud, “Hello, darling!” in a thick New York accent before wrapping her arms around me in a warm hug. “I’m Krissie. It’s so nice to meet you!”

I smiled and returned the greeting, introducing myself as well. I glanced at the doorway and spotted a brunette pre-teen dressed in a private school uniform. Krissie was quick to introduce her daughter, Olivia, who I greeted with a warm smile and a hello. She offered me a small wave of acknowledgment but wore a sad expression. Olivia’s brothers, Franco (the younger) and Gianni (the elder), bounded out the door. They were the most hyper kids I’d ever met; they giggled and ran about the yard like a couple of dogs who had been locked in a cage all day.

Krissie and my dad departed before letting me know what the cornstarch was for. I was left at a loss for what to do to entertain these three.

“So do you have any idea what this stuff on the table is for?” I asked the boys when they ran in range of my voice. They came to a halt on either side of their sister, who was in an Adirondack chair on the patio.

“Ooblit!” Franco shouted with so much enthusiasm he could probably convince anyone it was the coolest thing in the world. Perplexed, I listened as Olivia explained that it was in fact called oobleck, and that their mom had left the instructions somewhere in the house. Gianni ran to retrieve them, and Franco followed, giggling.

When they returned with a two-page packet explaining the steps for making this foreign substance, I took a quick look and decided we would get started. So far the kids seemed pretty cute, even though I couldn’t figure Olivia out. I figured whatever was bothering her could be cured by a bit of oobleck ridiculousness.

A box of cornstarch combined with a cup of water made a gooey mixture that I couldn’t help but want to play with too.

“Isn’t this nasty?” I asked, trying to get some sort of reaction out of Olivia. She cracked a little grin, more to satisfy me than anything. Gianni grabbed a big handful of cornstarch and clapped his hands together, getting powder all over me. I scooped a handful from one of the boxes and chased him into the yard as he laughed hysterically. When I was finally close enough, I got him; he ended up with a huge white spot on the back of his shirt. When I turned around, I was greeted with Franco’s grin and a flurry of white powder. By the time all six boxes were exhausted, the three of us looked like ghosts. Even Olivia was wearing a smile – a real one this time.

When my dad and Krissie got back, the four of us were curled up on the living room couch watching a movie on my laptop. Turns out I got my movie night after all. My dad and I said our good-byes and took our leave. The boys had fallen asleep, but I hugged Olivia before I left. She was my new favorite 12-year-old.

When I got home Sarah called me and went on for a good 20 minutes about all the drama that had gone down that night. After hearing about that trainwreck, I was happy I spent my evening with the littles.

I opened up my laptop to check Twitter and all my social media nonsense, and was greeted by a sticky note on my screen:

“Hi, Catie. You are so fun. From, Olivia.”



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