Characters: Bob, Fay, Mal
Word count: 376
Summary: Bob is baby-sitting. Well, he's trying to baby-sit.
Author's notes: I wrote this ages ago as a comment!fic for donutsweeper and it never found its way to my main journal. Since it's on theme for today, I thought I'd post it. It also conveniently also fills the 'gold' prompt on my occhallenge table. Happy Mother's Day, mothers!
It always amazed Bob how quickly children could make a mess.
Harry was napping upstairs and had asked Bob to watch out for Mal and Fay for a bit. It wasn’t an unusual request and Bob was fairly good at corralling the children despite his inability to touch them. However, Mal had decided to take a stroll through the lower level of the townhouse and in the five or so minutes it had taken Bob to convince him to go back to the living room, Fay had managed to completely cover the coffee table in craft supplies.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, eyeing the explosion of glitter, crayons and pipecleaners with mild horror.
“Making Mother’s Day cards,” Fay said, matter-of-factly. She had a way of answering most questions as though the answer should be painfully obvious to anyone.
Bob winced as she narrowly missed knocking a vial of gold glitter off the table with her elbow. “Where did all of this come from?” he asked.
“The closet,” Fay said. She carefully drew a heart on a folded piece of construction paper, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. Harry’s did the same when he was in intense concentration.
“How did you get it from the closet?” Bob said.
“I stood on a chair,” she said. She got herself a new crayon and poised it over the heart. “How do you spell ‘happy’?”
“H-A-P-P-Y,” Bob said. He decided not to ask where the chair came from.
Fay wrote in large block letters on the construction paper. “How did you spell ‘mother’s’?”
“M-O-T-H-E-R-apostrophe-S,” Bob said. He drew an apostrophe in the air at her confused look. “And before you ask, day is D-A-Y.”
“I know that, Bob,” she said, giggling. She finished writing and picked up a glue stick, rubbing it over the heart. Then she picked up the gold glitter and unceremoniously dumped the whole thing on top.
Bob groaned under his breath. He didn’t even have time to decide how to prevent her from making a bigger mess before he could hear a crash coming from the kitchen. A quick look around told him Mal was missing again. He hurried off in pursuit, wondering if fifteen minutes was too short a time for Harry’s nap.
“Bob!” Fay called after him. “How do you spell ‘Murphy’?”