Day Two:
I know as much about babysitting as I do about cultural practices in Tonga. The country name sounds fake. It sounds like a name I would bequeath on a pot-bellied pig.
When the four-year-old shit in the hot tub, cradled the pellet in her hand, held it out to me, and said, "I did poos," I laughed. Her eyes drooled tears.
I then realized that I was an adult. I shed my grin from my face and evolved my brain from a juvenile state to a more sophisticated age. I told her that she was a very naughty girl and I was very disappointed in her.
The tears tripped down her cheeks.
I let her stay in the spa. Ten minutes later, the four-year-old extended her hand to me. In it, she fondled excrement. Again. I laughed.
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