Page 19 of From LA to London, With Love

“Okay, well…that would be amazing, thank you. He’s just had a feed, so he shouldn’t be due another one for about three hours. If I’m not back by then, I have an emergency formula sachet and baby bottle in the nappy bag, along with nappies—diapers—of course. Just call me if there are any issues.”

I hoped Elliot wouldn’t need formula or a diaper change because I didn’t have a clue how to do either, but I thought it best not to mention that to Sophie. I was fairly confident that, with the help of Google and YouTube, I could work it out, and if not, I could call one of my sisters. It would be morning in Chicago, so they’d be up.

“That’s totally fine. We’ll have a great time, won’t we, mister?” I said, giving Elliot’s head an affectionate ruffle. He shot me a look of derision.

We waved Sophie off as she jumped into a cab. As soon as she’d left, I realized that foul smell had followed us out to the doorstep, and that Sophie had never got around to checking Elliot’s diaper. I sniffed his butt.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. This wasn't a promising start to my first babysitting attempt.

Elliot smiled angelically at me and then proceeded to vomit down my shirt. God damn.

“Oh dear, buddy. Let’s go inside and get both of us cleaned up.”

Holding Elliot in my arms, I was struck by the realization that this tiny, vulnerable human was depending on me to keep him alive for the next few hours. I was simultaneously stressed by the responsibility I’d taken on and pleased Sophie trusted me enough to leave him in my care.

I sat him next to me on the rug in the living room and peered inside the diaper bag. It was overflowing with stuff. The diapers helpfully had the word “back” written on one side, so at least I knew which way around they went, but that was as much as I could work out.

Elliot grabbed the diaper rash cream jar out of the bag and started gnawing on it with delight. With difficulty, I pried it out of his hands, worried he’d pull the lid off and eat the cream. I was shocked at how strong his little hands were. How the hell could such a tiny creature have such a powerful grip?

I pulled up YouTube on my phone and searched for “How to change a diaper.” The ads took forever to play, and the smell was getting worse every second, but once the instructional video started it didn’t seem too hard. I laid down the change mat on the rug, carefully placed Elliot onto it, took off his pants and the foul-smelling diaper, and wiped him down. Oh god. Just my luck that Elliot’s first experience with beans exited his body while I was in charge. Trying not to breathe through my nose, I crammed everything into a small plastic bag. The bag would be going in the trash can outside at the first opportunity. I looked at my phone to check what the next step was.

Elliot, sensing an opportunity while my head was turned, suddenly rolled at speed across the living room floor toward a large antique vase, half naked. Crap!

I leaped up and raced after him. Not only was this kid strong, but he could roll as well. I grabbed him just before he smashed into the vase.

As I breathed out in relief, I looked around the living room with fresh eyes. This place was not baby proof. There were hazards everywhere. Power outlets and cords, sharp edges, and breakable objects within Elliot’s reach. I’d need to do something about this if Elliot was going to keep hanging out here.

I placed him back on the change mat. This time, I kept my hand on his tummy to stop him from commando rolling while I re-watched the YouTube video.

I was turning back to maneuver him into the diaper when my face and chest were suddenly hit with warm liquid. I flinched.

What the hell was that?

I looked down at Elliot, who was giving me what I could only describe as an evil grin, and realized there was now a small puddle on the change mat around his butt.

Oh. Oh gross. It was pee. At least it didn’t seem to smell too bad, especially not compared with that poop, but still…

After wiping myself and Elliot off with a towel from the diaper bag, I got the diaper fastened on him and breathed a sigh of relief. That was a lot more challenging than I’d expected. It was up there with some of Muscle Man’s most difficult stunts. While I hadn’t been paying a lot of attention, I was pretty sure when Sophie changed Elliot in my presence she’d done it in under a minute, without imperiling any vases or being soaked in pee.

“Good work, buddy. We got through that all right in the end, didn’t we?”

I packed the diaper bag away, washed my hands, and put Elliot back down next to his toys, but he didn’t seem keen on any of them. His bottom lip trembled, and he made some plaintive whimpers that were like daggers in my heart. Poor little fellow. He probably missed Sophie.

I tried playing peekaboo. Not impressed.

I blew a raspberry. His lip trembled even more.

I started singing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” The whimpers amplified. I’m not the best singer, but I didn’t think I was that bad. His reaction didn’t bode well for my performance at karaoke tomorrow night.

My phone rang. I grabbed it, thinking it might be Sophie. My heart sank when I saw it was Jenny. She was calling to confirm arrangements for Alfie’s flight, so I put her on speakerphone while I pulled silly faces at Elliot, hoping that would cheer him up.

“Awesome, thanks, Jenny. I can’t wait to see Alfie. How’s he doing?”

“He’s great.”

Just then, Elliot started to wail.

“Is that a baby in the background? Where are you?” I could hear the curiosity in Jenny’s voice.