Maggie had babysat Ethan plenty of times before. At ten years old, he was a good kid—polite, quiet, and a little shy. He still needed help wiping after using the bathroom, but she never made a big deal about it. She’d done this plenty of times, and usually, it was quick and easy.
That evening, Ethan excused himself to use the bathroom while Maggie scrolled on her phone. A few minutes later, his voice called down the hall.
“I’m done!”
Maggie sighed, stretching as she stood up. She grabbed the pack of baby wipes from the counter and walked to the bathroom.
“Alright, bud, stand up so I can—” She stopped mid-sentence.
Ethan had already stood, and now that she had a full view, she realized just how bad this was. His backside was absolutely smeared—like he had tried wiping but only spread the mess around. The toilet paper he’d used was wadded up in the corner, and it was clear he had given up.
Maggie exhaled slowly. “Oh. Uh. Give me a sec.”
She crouched and pulled a disposable glove from the cabinet. Ethan frowned. “Wait… why are you putting on a glove? You never wear gloves.”
Maggie forced a smile. “Let’s just say you’ve given me a little extra work today.”
Ethan groaned. “That bad?”
Maggie didn’t answer. She just snapped the glove onto her right hand and grabbed a wipe. “Okay, hold still.”
She started with a careful swipe, dragging the wipe along his cheek and folding it over to contain the mess. But as she went for the second pass, she realized something unfortunate.
Her gloved hand had caught more than just the wipe.
Maggie grimaced at the brown smear on her fingers. Ugh, gross.
Ethan peeked over his shoulder. “What?”
Maggie sighed, holding up her hand. “Let’s just say I should’ve put on two gloves.”
Ethan’s face turned beet red. “Oh, man…”
Maggie peeled off the soiled glove, tossing it in the trash. She grabbed another pair this time, slipping one onto each hand with a firm snap.
Ethan gave her a sheepish look. “That bad, huh?”
“I’m not taking any more chances,” Maggie said, flexing her fingers. “Lesson learned.”
She went back to work, this time making extra sure to be careful. She wiped away the worst of the mess from his cheeks, then folded the wipe and went for another pass. But as she reached between his legs to clean his inner thigh, Ethan shifted slightly—and her other hand accidentally brushed against the mess.
Maggie groaned. “Oh, come on.”
Ethan winced. “Did I do that?”
“Nope, that one’s on me,” Maggie admitted. She shook her head, glancing at her other now-streaked glove. “Okay, now I’m really glad I did both hands.”
She grabbed another wipe and kept going, this time being extra careful. A few more wipes later, she had finally gotten him clean. She balled up the last wipe and pulled both gloves off, bundling everything together before tossing it all into the trash.
“There. Crisis averted. Now you go wash your hands,” she said, nudging him toward the sink.
Ethan hurried over, eager to be done with the whole thing. As Maggie washed her own hands, she shook her head and grinned to herself.
Babysitting was never boring, that was for sure.
And from now on? Two gloves. Every time.