Babysitting Oliver was supposed to be easy. Just a few hours, make sure he doesn’t set anything on fire, and you’re good.

Except Oliver has other plans.

The next two hours are chaos. You turn your back for one second, and suddenly he’s flying around the living room like a maniac. He insists on sparring—just for practice—which nearly gets both of you grounded when you almost take out the coffee table. He eats an entire bag of chips before dinner, then acts shocked when his stomach hurts.

Then, just when you think you finally have him under control, he looks up at you from the couch, eyes wide, completely innocent.

“I dare you to let me go fight bad guys.”