Melinda’s Story

Eventually, Dax grew tired of the playscape and went to the sandbox. Pat frowned.

“Is that such a good idea?”

I sent him a curious look. “Why not?”

“It was raining a little while ago. He’s going to get covered in mud.”

“So? I’ll clean him up when we go inside. Give him a bath if I have to.”

Pat looked at me like I had two heads. “Give him a bath?”

I tried not to laugh. I found Pat’s fear kind of adorable. But he didn’t have to worry about anyone getting muddy. As soon as Dax stepped into the sandbox, he dumped out a sand pail full of water. It splashed off the sand and onto his pants.

As he cried out in alarm, Dax stripped off his pants. And his diaper. And his shirt. Completely naked, he sat in the sandbox.

Pat turned to me with wide eyes. “You’re not going to let him stay like that, are you?”

Rolling my eyes, I got to my feet. “Of course not.” I waited until I had Dax’s clothes in my hand before calling out to him. “Hey, Dax. Buddy? Can we put your clothes back on?”

He was busy digging a hole. Without looking at me, he signed something I didn’t understand. “Pat? What’d he say?”

Pat looked up from his phone. “Huh? Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

I closed my eyes, biting my lip with a deep sigh. When I opened them, Pat was still playing with his phone. I tried not to let my frustration show. “Pat? You think you can come help me?”

“Oh. Sorry.”

When he was beside me, I turned back to Dax. “Dax? Why can’t we put on your clothes?”

This time, Pat was watching and able to interpret for me. “Wet?”

I glanced at the diaper. The little picture was still on the front. “Dax, your diaper’s dry.”

He again signed what I assumed was wet. I felt his pants. “Oh, your clothes are wet? They’re not that bad. Just a little damp. Can we put them back on, please?”

Dax shook his head, scooping another pile of sand onto the mound beside him.

Frowning, I glanced at Pat. “I’m, uh, not sure what to do.”

Pat considered for a moment. “Hey, Dax. I’m getting hungry. You want a snack?”

Still scooping sand, Dax nodded his fist.

I smiled. “How about a deal? You put your clothes back on and I’ll make you a snack.”

Dax again shook his head and Pat interpreted the sign. “Wet.”

I sighed. “Fine. Why don’t we go inside? I’ll get you some dry clothes and make you a snack?”

Dax didn’t answer. He threw the shovel into the hole and ran into the house. Shaking my head, I followed him.

Pat eyed the door as the alarm sounded. “That’s not normal.”

I sent him a pointed look. “Dax likes to run away. The alarm tells his parents if he’s left the house. It’s staying on.”

He held up both hands. “Actually, I’m kind of glad it’s there. What now?”

Dax was already climbing on the kitchen counter. I grabbed him around the waist. “Oh, Dax. You’re covered in sand. I know you don’t like being wet, but we’re going to have to give you a quick bath. Come on.”

Pat gestured over his shoulder. “I’ll just wait for you here, then.”

Rolling my eyes, I tightened my grip on Dax with one arm so I could tug Pat’s sleeve with the other. “Come on. You’re helping me.”

Whining, Pat followed me up the stairs. “But I don’t know anything about giving a kid a bath.”

“I thought you used to babysit your cousins.”

“Yeah. I played video games with them until their parents came home. Maybe made a sandwich or something for them.”

“Well, that’s having a playdate. This is babysitting. Come on.”

I had seen the bathroom when Mrs. Kennedy showed me the bedrooms. I deposited Dax in the tub, on the side opposite the faucet. I turned on the water, testing it with my hand before grabbing the cup on the side of the tub.

“Okay, Dax. I’m just going to rinse you off really quick.”

I dumped some water on his feet. He screamed, signing something near his face. Thankfully, Pat interpreted without me turning around.

“He said the water’s too hot.”

I raised my eyebrows. “It’s barely lukewarm.” With a sigh, I lowered it a smidge. “How’s this?”

Still too hot. Apparently, Dax’s preferred water temperature was just above freezing. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind me dumping water on him. Even though I hadn’t plugged the drain, he sat in the tub, gleefully playing with a toy boat while I poured water over his head. He even let me scrub him with the shower poofie I found hanging on the side of the shower wall. After scrubbing baby shampoo through his hair, I rinsed him off a few times and turned off the water.

Beside me, Pat passed me a towel. I took it with a smile. “Thanks. Okay, Dax. Let’s get you dressed and I’ll go make something to eat.” As I helped the boy out of the tub, I glanced at the clock. “You know what? It’s almost time for dinner. You want macaroni and cheese?”

Dax’s eyes lit up as he nodded his fist.

“Great. I’ll race you to your room.”

Tossing the towel behind him, Dax dashed to the hallway. I followed him, finding Dax sitting on his bedroom floor.

It was easy enough to find Dax’s pajamas, and he didn’t seem to mind getting dressed in dry clothes. As I pulled his shirt over his head, I asked if he wanted to play trains some more.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he went to his bed, grabbing a book from the shelf beside it.

I smiled. “You want to read? Why don’t we bring the books downstairs? Maybe Pat can read to you while I go make dinner.”

Dax raced out of the room. I grabbed another couple of books before following him. Pat was waiting for me in the hallway.

“What happened? He dashed down the stairs.”

I tried not to get upset. “And you didn’t think to follow him? I just told you he runs away.”

Truthfully, I wasn’t that worried. Dax was only a few feet ahead of me. I was just growing exasperated with Pat’s inexperience.

I followed Dax to the kitchen. When he sat at the table, I pointed to it, glancing at Pat over my shoulder.

“Go read to him while I make dinner.”

Mrs. Kennedy had left two boxes of macaroni and cheese on the counter, along with a pot. As I filled the pot with water, I could hear Dax’s story.

“The dog chases the cat.”

I spun to face the table. Pat was looking at me in disbelief.

“The cat runs up the tree.”

As Dax continued to read, Pat came to stand beside me, speaking in an undertone. “I thought he couldn’t talk.”

I shook my head. “Me too.”

“How old is he?”

I bit my lip. “Three, I think.”

“And he can read?”

I shook my head again. I was as shocked as Pat. Glancing down, I realized I had overfilled the pot. “Ugh.” I turned off the water. “Pat, just . . . go sit with him?”

Pat nodded absently. “Yeah. Okay.”

I emptied some water from the pot, drying the side before placing it on the burner. After opening both boxes of pasta, I removed the cheese packets and searched for the plates.

By the time dinner was ready, Dax had read through all three books on the table. I put his bowl in front of him, placing a fork beside him before going to get bowls for me and Pat. When I returned to the table, Dax was eating the pasta with his fingers.

Pat was staring at him. “He just had a bath. We don’t have to give him another one, do we?”

Not that Pat had helped me the first time around. Shaking my head, I passed him his bowl. “No. I’ll just wash him down with a paper towel or something.”

Pat picked up a forkful of pasta, examining it with a cautious eye. “What is this?”

“Macaroni and cheese.”

“That’s not cheese.”

“Sure it is. It says so on the box.”

Pat shook his head. “That is not a natural color. Nothing’s that orange. Oranges aren’t that orange.”

I bit my lip. “Pat, this is one of my favorite foods. Please, just shut up and eat it.”

Melinda’s Journal

Sunday, March 4

I love Pat. But he doesn’t know the first thing about babysitting. Maybe inviting him to join me was a mistake.

Pat’s Story

It took a while, but eventually the kid went to play in the sandbox. Mentally, I breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn’t get hurt there. But as he began to play, I realized we had another problem.

I glanced at Melinda. “Is that such a good idea?”

Her baffled expression was almost comical. “Why not?”

“It was raining a little while ago. He’s going to get covered in mud.”

“So? I’ll clean him up when we go inside. Give him a bath if I have to.”

Seriously? “Give him a bath?” Like, deal with a naked child?

But Melinda didn’t answer me. The kid emptied a sand pail full of water. It splashed off the sand and onto his pants.

He shrieked. It sounded as if he were in pain. Thankfully, it didn’t turn into hysterical crying again. He had a better solution. Before I realized what was happening, the kid stripped off all his clothes, throwing them in the grass. Then, he pulled off his diaper, choosing to play in the sandbox nude.

How was that comfortable? He was going to get sand in places sand didn’t belong. And it didn’t look all that hygienic. Didn’t squirrels pee in there?

I turned to Melinda. “You’re not going to let him stay like that, are you?”

“Of course not.” She rolled her eyes, but I didn’t know what she was saying about me. While she went to deal with the naked kid, I pulled out my phone.

I had intended to search whether the kid would need medical intention after being naked in the sandbox, but a social media post distracted me. My friend Chloe was staying with my sister during the school break. Even though she was a native New Yorker, she was using the vacation to visit—

“Pat? What’d he say?”

I glanced at Melinda. “Huh. Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Chloe had dragged my sister to the Statue of Liberty and—

“Pat? Do you think you can come help me?”

Uh oh. Melinda sounded irritated. I stowed my phone as I got to my feet. “Oh. Sorry.”

When I reached the sandbox, she turned to the boy. “Dax? Why can’t we put on your clothes?”

I understood the sign, but I had no idea what the boy was trying to say. “Wet?”

“Dax, your diaper’s dry.”

He signed wet again. Frowning, Melinda played with the clothes in her hand before turning her attention back to the boy. “Oh, your clothes are wet? They’re not that bad. Just a little damp. Can we put them back on, please?”

He shook his head, scooping another pile of sand onto the mound beside him.

Melinda turned to me. “I’m, uh, not sure what to do.”

She was the babysitting expert, and she was clueless? What did she expect me to do? I thought of my brother. It was a long shot, but it might work.

“Hey, Dax. I’m getting hungry. You want a snack?”

Still scooping sand, Dax signed, “Yes.”

Melinda smiled. “How about a deal? You put your clothes back on and I’ll make you a snack.”

Dax shook his head, signing, “Wet.”

After I interpreted, Melinda sighed. “Fine. Why don’t we go inside? I’ll get you some dry clothes and make you a snack?”

The boy didn’t answer. He threw the shovel into the hole and ran into the house. Melinda and I chased after him.

As soon as the boy pulled open the door, a shrill alarm sounded. I glanced up as I passed through. “That’s not normal.”

Melinda closed the door behind me. “Dax likes to run away. The alarm tells his parents if he’s left the house. It’s staying on.”

It was a smart idea. I raised my hands in surrender. “Actually, I’m kind of glad it’s there. What now?”

The kid, naked and full of sand, was sitting on the kitchen counter. How had he gotten there?

Melinda grabbed him around the waist. “Oh, Dax. You’re covered in sand. I know you don’t like being wet, but we’re going to have to give you a quick bath. Come on.”

That sounded like a professional babysitter thing. I was just the lowly interpreter. She didn’t need me.

I gestured over my shoulder. “I’ll just wait for you here, then.”

Melinda rolled her eyes. She was going to make herself dizzy if she didn’t stop that. Before I could ask what she was saying about me, she grabbed my sleeve, somehow not losing her grip on the boy. “Come on. You’re helping me.”

Begrudgingly, I followed her up the stairs. “But I don’t know anything about giving a kid a bath.”

“I thought you used to babysit your cousins.”

“Yeah. I played video games with them until their parents came home. Maybe made a sandwich or something for them.”

“Well, that’s having a playdate. This is babysitting. Come on.”

I followed Melinda to the bathroom. She dumped the kid into the tub and turned on the water. After washing her hand for a while, adjusting the temperature as she did so, she grabbed a green plastic cup from the side of the tub.

“Okay, Dax. I’m just going to rinse you off really quick.”

When she poured water on his feet, he howled in pain. “Hot!”

I interpreted for Melinda, and she scoffed. “It’s barely lukewarm.”

Nevertheless, she adjusted the temperature several times before the boy was comfortable. Then she scrubbed him head to toe in baby soap while he played with bath toys. When she rinsed him, I found a towel on the back of the door. I passed it to her as she turned off the water.

She smiled before turning back to the boy. “Thanks. Okay, Dax. Let’s get you dressed, and I’ll go make something to eat.” She helped him out of the tub. “You know what? It’s almost time for dinner. You want macaroni and cheese?”

Dax’s eyes lit up. “Yes!”

I didn’t need to interpret for Melinda. I knew she knew that sign. She grinned. “Great. I’ll race you to your room.”

Letting the towel fall to the ground, he ran out of the room. While Melinda followed him, I returned the towel to its hook, straightening up the bathroom before returning to the hall.

I reached it as the boy bolted out of his room. At least he was dressed. He was halfway down the stairs before Melinda emerged.

I pointed over my shoulder. “What happened? He dashed down the stairs.”

Melinda glared at me. “And you didn’t think to follow him? I just told you he runs away.”

I shrugged. I had forgotten. I was still new to this whole babysitting thing.

I followed Melinda back to the kitchen, where we found Dax climbing into a chair at the table. Melinda pointed to him as she turned to me. “Go read to him while I make dinner.”

She passed me a couple of books. The boy had another one in his hand. As I sat beside him, he opened the book.

A tiny voice beside me read the words on the page. “The dog chases the cat.”

I could feel my jaw drop. I looked at Melinda by the stove. She was staring at us in disbelief.

“The cat runs up the tree.”

I went to stand with Melinda, keeping my voice low so as not to disturb the boy’s story. “I thought he couldn’t talk.”

She nodded. “Me too.”

I glanced at him again. “How old is he?”

“Three, I think.”

“And he can read?” I didn’t think I was reading when I was that young.

Beside me, Melinda groaned at the sink. I got the impression she had screwed up dinner. She may have also been a little hangry. With an exasperated sigh, she turned to me. “Pat, just . . . Go sit with him?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

I returned to the table, letting the boy read to me. When he finished his book, I passed him another. As he finished the third one, Melinda carried a bowl to the table.

It contained pasta in a fluorescent orange sauce. Ignoring his fork, the boy shoveled it into his mouth using his fingers.

I glanced at Melinda. “He just had a bath. We don’t have to give him another one, do we?”

Melinda passed me a bowl. “No. I’ll just wash him down with a paper towel or something.”

I looked at my pasta warily. “What is this?”

“Macaroni and cheese.”

“That’s not cheese.”

“Sure it is. It says so on the box.”

“That is not a natural color. Nothing is that orange. Oranges aren’t that orange.”

Melinda didn’t look amused. “Pat, this is one of my favorite foods. Please, just shut up and eat it.”

She sounded more annoyed than my mother. I just wasn’t sure if it was with me or the boy. I hoped it was him.

To stay on her good side, I took a tentative bite of the meal. It didn’t taste anything like cheese. It didn’t taste like anything I could name. But I enjoyed it. My next forkful was much larger.

This episode will be released on Wednesday, October 11.

Attention Hammerheads

Melinda is always trying to build her vocabulary. What were some words in this episode that were new to you? She will add them to her vocabulary journal.