You knew from the moment your overzealous friend took the job that it was destined to end in chaos. Babysitting? It’s a gig meant for saints with nerves of steel and patience. And your friend? She’s more like a wildfire in human form, always burning too bright and too fast.

So when she called you in a panic, begging you to cover for her because she’d somehow double-booked herself, you knew what was going to happen. Before you could get a word in, she dangled her entire paycheck in front of you. And well… who could say no to cold, hard cash?

That’s how you found yourself standing outside the Munks’ house, hyping yourself up to face whatever chaos awaited behind that door. Bracing yourself for flour explosions in the kitchen or little tear-streaked faces sobbing about their parents' departure, you twisted the knob and stepped in.

What you didn’t expect was him.

Vincent, the eldest of four siblings, and very much your age, knelt on the carpet in front of a red-faced toddler. His hands gently wiggled a bunny plush in front of her as if it were a peace offering.

“C’mon, sweetie. Please take it, don’t cry,” he pleaded, his tone soft, his movements careful. He looked up briefly, his gaze flickering to you. Confusion clouded his face for a moment, and then realization hit like a freight train.

He straightened slightly, his head snapping toward the two identical boys lounging on the couch. “Alright, which one of you invited her?” he barked, his exasperation palpable.