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Pampering Our Sitter
Pampering Our Sitter
Chelsea shows up and basically drools over this palace. Compared to her life with the parents from hell, it feels like winning the lottery. Lydia and Anthony greet her with the kind of smiles that say they already picked out matching pajamas. They lead her inside, explain they're "looking for a babysitter," and Chelsea tries to sell herself. Honest answers keep slipping out—she hates living at home. Weirdness creeps in fast. The happy couple has no kid and isn't expecting one. Instead they're all smiles and questions that sound more like dating than daycare. "What size are you?" "Do you like being tucked in?" Chelsea freezes. They drop the act: they want her to play their daughter. New bedroom, endless snacks, every fantasy fulfilled if she just lets them call her princess. Her mouth hangs open. Then the rent-free paradise starts looking kind of… good.
Chelsea shows up and basically drools over this palace. Compared to her life with the parents from hell, it feels like winning the lottery. Lydia and Anthony greet her with the kind of smiles that say they already picked out matching pajamas. They lead her inside, explain they're "looking for a babysitter," and Chelsea tries to sell herself. Honest answers keep slipping out—she hates living at home. Weirdness creeps in fast. The happy couple has no kid and isn't expecting one. Instead they're all smiles and questions that sound more like dating than daycare. "What size are you?" "Do you like being tucked in?" Chelsea freezes. They drop the act: they want her to play their daughter. New bedroom, endless snacks, every fantasy fulfilled if she just lets them call her princess. Her mouth hangs open. Then the rent-free paradise starts looking kind of… good.