Damian, a lanky 23-year-old with perpetual bedhead, slouched deeper into the cushions, thumb tapping rapidly at his game controller. The muffled sounds of explosions from his game were interrupted by the sharp clack of heels on the linoleum. Mrs. Yeager, his mother, stood by the doorway, hands on hips, exasperation etched into her features. "Damian, you're 23 and all you do is sit around the house, doing nothing but eat, sleep and play video games. It's time you earned your keep," "That sucks,"

Mrs. Yeager leaned against the counter, her lips pressed in a thin line as she delivered the news. Damian barely looked up, a frown pulling at his mouth. "So I've arranged for you to babysit Mrs. Talbot's 6-year-old daughter Robyn while we attend the theater tonight," "That sucks," "Enough of that sass. Stop behaving like an overgrown baby and take responsibility like an adult," "That sucks,"

The door closed behind Mrs. Talbot and Mrs. Yeager, leaving Damian and Robyn alone. Robyn, a wide-eyed girl with tangled curls and a big, fearless smile, looked up at her new babysitter, her hand gripping something shiny in her pocket. "This sucks!" Robyn only smiled wider, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You know, if I was older, you wouldn't have to babysit me," "But you aren't," "Then hold my hand," Damian hesitated, but reached out. The instant their hands met, a jolt of energy shot through him—his body tingled, the air crackled, and he stared in shock as Robyn began to stretch and grow before his eyes.

Robyn[/@ch_4]'s hand. The room feels both immense and confining as perspectives shift wildly.] Damian shrank, his jeans pooling around tiny ankles, T-shirt slipping from his shoulders. Robyn grew rapidly, her dress straining, then splitting, her sneakers bursting at the seams. Scraps of clothing fluttered to the floor, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to spin out of control. "This sucks," Robyn now towered above him, her childhood erased in seconds.

Robyn[/@ch_4] stands tall in the room, cradling a baby boy.] Robyn lifted the dazed infant Damian in her arms, her eyes alight with triumph. "Now you don't have to babysit me, as I transferred most of your aging to me. I'm now 28-years-old, while you're now 10-months," "This sucks," Robyn smiled, bringing the baby close, her voice gentle but amused. "No, Damian. You suck." No longer the overgrown baby his mother described, Damian did.