My wife is away for the day and only due to return late in the evening, so I collect our two-year-old son from daycare, play a bit with him, cook dinner for the both of us, and then try to bring him to bed.

Me: “Time for bed, [Son]!”

Son: “Papa also go sleep!”

Me: “Papa can’t yet. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, but then I have to clean the kitchen. When I made dinner, I made a mess in the kitchen and now I have to clean up before Mama comes home. Or Mama will scold me!”

Son: “Papa clean up mess now!”

Me: “It’s okay, Papa can do it later. Now sleep and I will do it then.”

Son: “Papa now! [Son] go with you!”

He led me into the kitchen and there, under the watchful eyes of one little human and two stuffed animals, I had to clean the “mess” I made in the kitchen. When the kitchen was satisfactorily clean, he insisted on me cleaning the dinner table, as well, before we could go back to bed, and there he fell asleep within minutes.

My aunt used to run an in-home daycare. One day, my two youngest brothers, both under the age of seven, were refusing to finish their lunches. One didn’t want to eat his vegetables and the other didn’t want to eat the rest of his sandwich. My aunt told them that they couldn’t leave the table and go back to playing with the other kids until their food was gone and went back into the kitchen to clean up.

While she was starting on the dishes, my brothers swapped plates and ate each other’s leftovers. My aunt figured it wasn’t worth preparing more food and fighting them on it, so she let them go. To this day, I admire their problem-solving.

I’m babysitting a brother and sister who are four and three, respectively. The brother has recently started preschool and is always excited to tell his sister new things he’s learned.

We’re taking a walk around the neighborhood and he points to a fir tree.

Brother: “This is carnivorous!”

I laugh and he asks why.

Me: “This is a coNIFerous tree; it has cones. The word you said is carNIVorous, which means something that eats meat, like a tiger.”

The boy thinks about this for a moment and starts laughing, too. He turns to his sister.

Brother: “Watch out! The tree’s going to eat you!”

The whole rest of the day, the kids chased each other pretending to be man-eating trees.

This story is part of the Babysitting roundup!

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It’s another Saturday in retail and, as usual, my store is crazy busy. I’m about an hour into my shift when a family comes up to my register: parents, toddler daughter in the cart, and older daughter — maybe six or seven — watching me with big eyes behind round glasses. She looks a bit like I did at her age, which amuses me, and the mom and I make pleasant small talk as I ring up their items while the dad keeps the toddler entertained. All in all, they’re nice people.

Me: “Are you interested in applying for a store credit card today?”

Mom: “No, thank you.”

Daughter: “Can I get a credit card?”

Me: “Oh, no, honey. You have to have a job to get a credit card.”

Mom: “That’s right. You have to be at least eighteen.”

Daughter: “Oh.” *Thinks about this for a few seconds* “But I don’t want to get a job, and I don’t want to be eighteen! I like my life!”

The parents and I burst out laughing.

Me: “That’s the best thing I’m going to hear all day. I need that on a T-shirt.”

I’m looking after my four-year-old nephew for the day. I have recently joined a new bank and have to pop in to sign some paperwork. The bank teller greets me and my nephew.

Teller: “Would you prefer to be addressed as Mr. [Last Name] or [First Name]?”

I’m about to respond when my nephew speaks up with a very serious look on his face.

Nephew: “That’s Uncle [First Name]!”

The teller and I look at each other and try really hard not to laugh.

Teller: “Quite right, sir!”

And that’s why everyone at the bank calls me “Uncle [First Name]”!