The Kid, the Boss, and the Incorrigible Nanny

Part Twenty-Eight

Kid slipped a hairpin into her bun. She had tried at least three times to brush, spray, and flatiron her unruly hair into submission. A messy bun and an arsenal of pins were her last line of defense in tonight's battle.

"You should have stopped two tries ago," she told her reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

"Hmm?" Aiden asked. He was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet and watching videos on her phone. 

"Nothing, buddy. I was talking to myself." She sighed, slumping over to rest her elbows on the counter. She took the opportunity to give herself a long look in the mirror.

At the peak of her blistering excitement, Kid had fully committed herself to pull an entire look together. She had done everything she remembered an online makeup artist had recommended: She exfoliated, put on a layer of moisturizer, applied both face and eye primer, and gently blended a thin layer of foundation over her face. Her eye makeup was shimmery, made of soft, neutral tones, and offset by thin, black eyeliner and some soft mascara. She had used concealer under her eyes and had contoured her cheeks, forehead, and even her nose. 

The end result was never quite like she would have hoped. The texture of her skin couldn't be covered, it seemed, with layers of makeup (even if the foundation bottle promised a perfect complexion). Her eyeliner wasn't entirely even on both sides, and her mascara had gotten a bit clumpy.

 No, she didn't look like the makeup artists whose videos she and CJ had watched online, but she did have to admit that the process had been an exciting one. She simply had to decide not to let her eyes catch (or create, for that matter) any flaws her skin bore.

She took a step back from the mirror and checked her overall appearance. CJ had lent her a beautiful dark green dress that fell past her knees (CJ, tall as she was, had wanted to pin the hem up to where she normally would have worn it; Kid had been certain she'd somehow tear the material, so they left it alone). The dress had straps, flattering but thick, and a soft, swooping neckline. 

CJ had offered to watch Aiden for a little while longer that afternoon while Kid made a quick trip to a nearby store to find some heels via a ride-hailing service. The whole trip had been easy, and she had found a pair of simple, short black heels for less money than she had originally hoped. 

Kid was thrilled, having put the dress on, to feel like a woman in her twenties, and was even more impressed when she knelt down to tie Aiden's shoes to find that she didn't have to worry about certain body parts flopping around. This was an issue, she realized, that less-clumsy people might not have to worry about.

"Mommy, I hungwy." 

Kid froze for a fraction of a second before deciding to respond as though nothing had happened. "I bet you are, bud. Can I see my phone?" 

He gave it to her without complaint.

It was normal for little kids to call their teachers "Mom" at the daycare. It was always, always an accident. 

Except that this is a different set of circumstances, Kid reminded herself.

 She gasped when she saw the time. "Oops. It looks like Miss Kid made us a little late!" She offered a hand to him, helping him down to the floor. "We better get going!"

She held onto his hand, gently guiding him toward the door. 

"Don't drag your feet, buddy. You're going to have to pick up the pace if you want fancy spaghetti for dinner." 

He stopped in his tracks outside the room, just as the door closed behind them. He reached his arms up to her. "Please?"

Frustration crept up the back of her neck. "No, you can walk to dinner."