When Mandy asked me to watch her kids for a few hours, I didn't think twice. But hours turned into a shocking phone call: my husband and his sister were already boarding a flight to Mexico. No discussion. No warning. Just me, two kids, and a week-long betrayal I never agreed to.
It started with a text around midday. I was checking some data on one of my spreadsheets when my phone chimed. My SIL's name popped up with a message that made me stop everything.
"Hey! Emergency. Can you grab the kids from school today? Just until I finish something. Thank you!!"
Emergency?
My stomach dipped and my mind immediately jumped to worst-case scenarios — was one of the kids sick? Had something happened to her?
I texted back immediately. "Of course! Everything okay?"
Her reply came fast. "Yeah, just swamped. You're a lifesaver!"
Relief flooded through me. Just busy. Nothing major.
Mandy's two kids — Ellie, six, and Jake, a wildly energetic three-year-old — were sweet.
A handful, sure, but sweet. I worked from home, and my afternoon was light. Picking them up, grabbing snacks, and hanging out until Mandy swung by after dinner? No big deal.
I even thought it might be fun, and it was, at first. I settled the kids on the sofa with a cute Ghibli movie and their snacks, then finished up my work for the day.
By 7 p.m., the fun had worn off.
Ellie was sprawled on the living room floor, coloring with an intensity that made me nervous, while Jake was in the middle of what could only be described as a full-blown toddler meltdown.
His tiny fists pounded against the floor. Tears streaked his chubby cheeks, his furious little voice shrieking, "I WANT THE BLUE CRAYON!"
There was no blue crayon.
Not anymore, anyway — he'd snapped it in half an hour ago.
