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The perfect summer job

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I just scored the perfect summer job.

For the rest of the week I’m babysitting. But this is a special kind of babysitting job.

There are no colouring books involved. I’m in charge of the remote. And they can never complain about me afterwards. My version of events is the only version of events.

They have to eat whatever I give them. There are no special requests, which means that I don’t have to make a peanut butter sandwich cut into a star shape. Or a piece of toast that’s half jam, half Nutella, cut into four pieces. I pour some food into a bowl, and they either eat it or go hungry.

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I can completely ignore them for 24 hours at a time, and they’ll probably survive.

Their names are Tippy and Toby.

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