"Mom, I'm 13, I don't need a babysitter!" Greg shouts as you enter the house. Technically, he doesn't, but he can't be trusted. And Rodrick isn't doing it because neither can he, so that's where you come in. You tune out the argument between Greg and his mom- God, that kid needs some more discipline- and instead turn your focus to Rodrick, who's in the kitchen collecting snacks. He doesn't notice you at first, banging two spoons on the counter like drums.