The Bad Boy's Nanny

Ch. 7 - Cream Puff

We didn't talk about what happened when Flynn and the kids asked. Jonas went upstairs to shower and then go to sleep, and no one bothered him. After pizza, Elliott and Flynn left for a party- not Giano's, of corse. I didn't mind their leaving, since having Flynn around always seems to make the younger ones much more hyper.

Addison came home, an extraordinary smile on her face, one I wouldn't dare to break by telling her what happened to Jonas. She couldn't stop gushing about Mike. He was sweet to her, bought her frozen yogurt, pulled out her chair. I decided I approved of this Mike character.

The next morning, I go into Jonas' room to check on him. He is still sound asleep, so I decide to let him sleep for as long as he wants. Downstairs, I pull out a bowl and pour Cheerios into it, planning on serving Jonas when he does wake up.

I will be nice to him, at first. Once I am sure he is no longer in pain, I will put down my foot. He lied to me. He should've told me where he was going. And he should've told me about Darren, even if it were embarrassing. I'm in charge of him and making sure he is safe.

"Hey," Elliott mumbles when he walks into the kitchen, backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Hey."

I watch as he opens the refrigerator, pulls out a carton of orange juice, and lifts the carton near his lips. Before he does the dreaded act, he glances over at me and sighs in annoyance. He sets down the carton and goes through the cabinets to find a glass before pouring the orange juice into it.

"Happy?" he asks, taking a sip of his juice.

I smile. "So civilized these days."

He sets the glass near the sink and walks to the back door. With a half wave, he leaves the house grumbling, "adios."

"Hasta luego," I say to an empty kitchen.

In the few minutes I have to myself before everyone wakes up, I sprawl out on the couch with a box of Apple Jacks and watch some good old-fashion reality TV. I settle for whatever is on at the moment. The Real Housewives of Atlanta. Jackpot.

After an episode and a half, Ethan comes downstairs. I quickly shut off the TV and hide any evidence of the Apple Jacks.

"Beth woke me up," he mumbles and rubs his eyes. "She crying a lot."

I nod. "Okay, go into the kitchen and decide what you want for breakfast. I'll be down in a second."

Upstairs, Beth's crying pierces my ears. The girls have woken up as well. I can hear them in the bathroom fighting over the sink. Once in Beth's room, I lift her from the crib and rock her gently. The stench of her used diaper hits me pretty hard. I'm getting pretty good at changing these diapers though, I must say. Today could've been a record.

With Beth in my arms, I walk back downstairs and set her in the highchair by the kitchen table. She bangs on the tray in excitement when I bring the box of Cheerios near her. Just like her older brother.

"You want the waffles, Ethan?" I ask.

He nods and claps his hands together in excitement. "Waffles!"

I pop them in the toaster and help Ethan onto one of the kitchen chairs. "What do you want to do today, buddy? It's your last day before you and the twins start going to camp on the weekdays."

"I wanna go swimming!"

"We haven't been to the pool yet," I say. "I'm sure the twins will be excited to go."