More babysitting

Ginger stood with her hands on her hips and stared at the blank television screen. She was about to spend three to five hours with a little girl who didn't talk or smile or seem to remotely easy to entertain. Ginger was running through contingent activities in her head when she noticed the little girl standing beside her. The little girl had her hands on her hips and was staring at the blank televisions screen, too.

"Do you like TV?" Ginger asked her.

The little girl shrugged.

"Sorry!" Daniel shouted from the open door behind them. "I told her to knock first," he said.

"It's alright," she said and waved for him to come in. He stepped inside and dropped a pink duffle bag on the floor. "I packed her toothbrush and pajamas and few things that might keep her occupied," he said.

"Cool," Ginger said. Both she and the little girl had dropped their hands and their arms hung limp beside their bodies. They stood watching Daniel look back and forth at both of them before he pointed at his daughter and said, "Behave." He waved at them, but with his back turned toward them, as if it were an afterthought.

Once he was out the door, Ginger looked at her charge. "I'm hungry," Ginger said in her direction.

The little girl nodded.

Ginger looked toward her kitchen. She didn't think to stock it with kid food. She had the basics, which would have to be good enough. She clapped her hands together. "Let's eat," she said.

She made a giant bowl of mashed potatoes from a powdered mix. She popped two bags of microwave popcorn and filled another bowl. She realized her bowl inventory was exhausted as she was mixing the cheese sauce in the macaroni, so she wrapped the pot with a bath towel and used duct tape to keep it in place. She had a three spoons and a ladle. She handed the ladle to the little girl.

"Don't cross contents," she said. They sat on the floor with their feast on the coffee table and started to silently swipe bites.

"We could watch something," Ginger offered.

The little girl squinted at the TV.

"What do you like to do?" Ginger asked.

The little girl squinted at her.

"You're going to have to talk to me at some point," Ginger said.

The little girl shook her head slowly.

Ginger shook her head, too. She reached into the bowl of popcorn and grabbed a handful. She scattered it on the coffee table and then reached under the sofa to find the hammer she kept there. When the little girl saw it, her eyes almost popped out of her head.

"Check this out," Ginger said and smashed every piece of popcorn with the hammer. The little girl reached for it, but Ginger pulled it back, out of the little girl's reach.

"I'll make you a deal," Ginger said. "You talk to me, and I'll let you smash popcorn until you heart is content."

"Deal," the little girl said. Her voice was softer and lighter and higher than Ginger expected. She was almost surprised that the little girl didn't have a whiskey voice, damaged from years of smoking cigarettes.