fandomhigh | Childcare for Idiots, Thursday

"Today we're gonna talk about a very important part of being a parent. Whether its via normal means like havin' a kid, or adopting, or ending up taking care of the messiah after an editorial decision kills off their entire town to make it more edgy... or the always nice 'I woke up with spawn and am pondering surgery to insure this never actually happens'," Deadpool said cheerfully. "Finding yourself a babysitter before you go insane."

Er. Insane-er.

"Now, with Jan here, this process involves Nate being all creepy big brother and possibly bugging people before trusting them with her."

A beat.

"Though his mom did watch her a lot. But that's only because she has those kooky godlike psycho-kinetic powers and a hunger for stars."

Thank you for that, Deadpool. Thank you.

"So I wanna see you brats break off into groups of two a decide what you need in a babysitter. Make sure to take into consideration your spawn's potential magic, mutations, and/or alien abilities. Because not even Mary freakin' Poppins wants to deal with that crap with no warning beforehand."

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"...How old is eventually?" Karla asked, already a little dubious, yes.

"I dunno," Sam said. "Can they walk yet?"

"Most children start learning to walk around...what? Like a year or so?"

Surely Sam couldn't be suggesting...

"Okay, so, yeah."

Sam didn't know many children.

"You want to leave a one year old by itself?!"

Nope. Sam was definitely not going on the 'people to shift the kids off to so Mommy can cry in a corner' list.

"If you have more than one," Sam suggested, "then they won't be alone."

Maybe that was why Melanie ended up so responsible so quickly. She'd had to look out for Sam.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean the other one is any more responsible," Karla pointed out, having images of leaving Nommy and Kayla (oh, Darkness, and Jaenelle Mara!) alone together. "Sometimes, the more there are, the more insane they get."

Lunch time. Two words that still made her shudder.

"Well how else are they going to learn?" Sure, Melanie and Sam may have set fire to the sofa a couple of times, but they figured out not to try and use the hot plate on it eventually.

"Slowly and with proper supervision?" Karla hazarded. "At least until they're old enough to know not to drink anything that's used for cleaning?"

"Yeah, my mom just didn't have any cleaning supplies."

If only she was joking.

Fortunately, by this time, Karla knew better than to ask if the servants kept them all. It had only taken three years, yay!

"There are a lot of ways for kids to do something stupid and get themselves really hurt and nearly killed," she objected. "Hell's fire, I used to manage it even with a nursemaid and a crew of tutors."

"Wow, you had that many people telling you not to do stuff?"

"Even more than that, once you factored in the servants and Mother's Court and random males and whatnot," Karla said with a shrug. "I didn't really let it stop me, though."

Karla. Willful. They went together.

"See?" said Sam. "Then what was the point of having 'em in the first place?"

"Because the stuff I did manage to do was nothing compared to the stuff I wanted to do," Karla said. "Even if they missed one prank or horrible idea in every ten, that's still nine they prevented."

"Man, but how epic would those other nine have been?"

Yeah, Sam didn't get Karla's point.

"Speaking as someone who had seven kids show up last year? Epic is not something a parent wants to deal with. Well, not a parent, exactly. But is it really babysitting if you're sorta the parent? Biologically? Uhhh, temporary child-wrangler?"

Watch Karla get confused by her own terminology.

Sam got lost even before the terminology. "Someone made you look after seven kids?" She tilted her head. "You should have made them make stuff for you."

Because child labor was cheap and satisfying.

"My stupid future-selves who can't seem to keep their Darkness-bedamned legs closed," Karla growled. "And what could seven rambunctious kids make besides a giant mess?"

Sam pondered that. "T-shirts," she supposed. "I bet you could make 'em make t-shirts."

Childcare for Idiots, Thursday

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