Babysitting Duty? [with excheerleader]
It wasn't exactly known why Michael was now a little kid, but it had happened. the funny thing was, Michael still had all his memories, knew who everyone was...but there was a problem: He had the attention span and antics of the five-year-old he had become. He had gone from playing with the guns Gabriel had given him for his birthday to pouting about those being taken away, (thanks, Uncle Sam), to wanting ice cream to wanting to color. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the mature conscience tried to speak out, wanting to know what the hell had happened to him, but that not-so-inner child stomped that out quickly.
Now he was with Claire since she was his "most favoritest person ever" at the moment. Right now, he had her hand in his and was pulling her toward the house. He wanted ice cream. He wanted it now. And he wasn't tall enough to reach anything to get the ice cream.
"Claaaaire, you're taking too long," he whined impatiently, stomping his little foot on the tile and folding his arms.
Now he was with Claire since she was his "most favoritest person ever" at the moment. Right now, he had her hand in his and was pulling her toward the house. He wanted ice cream. He wanted it now. And he wasn't tall enough to reach anything to get the ice cream.
"Claaaaire, you're taking too long," he whined impatiently, stomping his little foot on the tile and folding his arms.