• When I was thirteen, I went to a friend of my mom’s house to baby-sit her son. I had read some baby-sitter’s club books and thought watching a kid would be fun. When I got there, I saw an angelic little boy. He had soft blond hair and bright blue eyes. His mom told me his name was Johnny. She then showed me where the emergency contact numbers were and the first aid kit. She waved good-bye to her son and left. I turned to Johnny and asked him what he wanted to do. He turned his head to look at me. I saw that angle face crack, and a little demon come out. He started to scream and run through the house yelling, “Mom’s gone, and you aren’t the boss of me.” I didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t in any of the books; those kids were normally well-behaved and listened to their baby sitters. Then I heard the slam of the back door. I ran outside to bring him back. When I made it past the back patio, I heard the slam of the door again, the click of the lock, and an evil little giggle. The little snot locked me out as I pulled on the door yelling at him to let me in. I got an idea. I let go of the door and pulled out my phone. “Who are you going to call the numbers to my mom are in here,” Johnny teased. “ I’m not calling your mom I’m calling mine,” I said with a smile. His eyes widened in fear, “You wouldn’t,” he said with fear in his voice. “Wanna bet. Now open this door,” I said with my thumb over the send button. Johnny opened the door and stepped back, “I let you in. You won’t call your mom now right?” He asked still a little afraid. “Not if you sit here and quietly watch TV until your mom comes back,” I told him as I grabbed the remote and turned on some cartoons. When Johnny’s mom came home, I told her he had been a troublesome child at first, but you just need to speak the language and he will listen.