Babysitting is not my forte. I generally make it a rule to avoid little undisciplined creatures as much as I can. But I have a tender streak for certain children, one of which is the daughter of one of my submissives, David. His wife is a cool lady, a photographer who works in the city. Sometimes I help out with little Morgana because I’m at a loose end too, and I enjoy her feisty little spirit. Sometimes she worries me though.
This afternoon Morgana had her dolls out. Ken was naked on the wooden table and a Monster high doll with black heels and greeny black hair was brought down hard on his plastic chest by Morgana’s meaty little hand.
“Bad! Bad boy! Ken is a bad boy!”
Morgana is four, and there is no way she knows what goes on between her daddy and I, as she’s never been to the dungeon and we make it a rule never to do anything at his home. But sometimes I wonder if she has a psychic streak, because lately her games have been a little bit close to the truth.
Morgana picked up Ken and threw him down at the floor.
“Ken is stupid! Stupid dumb dumb Ken!”
She cackled wildly. I raised my eyebrow. She looked at me with those giant green eyes that seemed to bore into my soul.
I picked Ken up from his prone position on the floor. Morgana eyed me wondering what I’d do next. I like her little cackle, and knew throwing him back onto the floor would amuse her, so I did.
Morgana then jumped down from her seat and waddled her way purposefully up the stairs, returning with a handful of Barbie clothes.
“We dress Ken up!”
“What a good idea, Morgana. What do you think he’d like to wear?”
Morgana found a pink princess dress with lace trim and then ran off to get her felt tip pens. I knew what she was doing, she’d done it a few times before. Ken was about to get a makeover. I chuckled to myself as she pulled the dress on Ken and helped her get the top off the red pen.
I don’t think Morgana’s cut out to be a make up artist. She’s got passion but very little attention when it comes to colouring within the lines. Maybe it’ll come. In any case, by the time she was finished with Ken, he looked like Stephen King’s IT after a spell in a monsoon. I picked him up and made a big deal of her handiwork.
“He looks… very pretty!”
Morgana smiled and picked up her other doll again.
“Very pretty. Now dollie smash!”
Princess Ken was then repeatedly trodden under the heels of her dollie.
“Katia… you help me?”
“What do you need, darling?”
Morgana dropped the doll and went into the kitchen. I have to watch her because she’s good at finding things she shouldn’t find – mainly scissors and sharp kitchen implements. I opened the drawer she was standing in front of, then looked to where she was pointing. A reel of string, used for the Sunday roast, I presumed. It seemed harmless enough. I gave it to her. She ran off excitedly with it, and then – to my amusement, started wrapping Ken in it.
Like I said, sometimes I wonder what this child knows.