Nanny Diaries

Chapter 1 - Here Come the Parents

My book trailer by @Kwassa is on the side!

I wake up to my alarm clock buzzing, as usual, and slap it with my right arm before curling up my legs and burying my face in my pillow. 

“Lauren! Lauren! Lauren!” I hear a little voice shout as my bedroom doors open. Matthias rushes in and jumps onto my bed, landing on my stomach. 

“Oof! Matt, that hurts.” I say, sitting up and stroking his hair. His bright blue eyes watch me as I gaze at him lovingly. He sits on the bed perched on his knees, bouncing up and down as if he’s already downed a handful of chocolate, which knowing Matt, he probably has. I glance at my clock and it reads 6:50 AM. 

“Alright, up, up, up! Time for your first day of school!” It’s Matt’s first day of kindergarten and I have to get him ready, or else he’ll take forever and chicken out, clinging to my leg and refusing to go into the classroom, like he did last year for Pre-K. 

I’m his nanny. Lauren Flora, twenty-one, single, living in New York and working for the famous couple, Angie and Christian Klore. My only job? Look after their precious boy, little five year old Matt. 

I pull my legs out from under the covers and stand up, stretching my arms above my head and yawning. I switch my phone on before grabbing Matt by the legs and sweeping him downstairs, plopping him in a kitchen chair and starting for the stove. 

“What do you want for breakfast Matt-Matt?” I ask, using my pet name for him. I know he’ll be nervous this morning, being that he’ll be away from home and me for a whole five hours. I want to make him an extra special breakfast, but I know he’ll have trouble deciding. 

“Pancakes!” he chants, running his fork through his hair. That didn’t take as long as I thought, and when I sneak a glance at him and notice him shaking in his seat, eyes wide, I know. He had way too much sugar. 

“Matt,” I say, pointing my spatula at him. “How much sugar did you eat before I got up this morning?”

“Uhhh...” he stalls. 

“Matt.” I say sternly.

“Chockit chips.” he says sheepishly, the slight lisp falling from his lips. 

“Matt?” I say, raising an eyebrow, urging him to spill. I know how he hates lying or keeping secrets from me. 

“Okay! I ate ‘dem all,” he mumbles. 

“Matt!” I exclaim, groaning in frustration. “Your parents are going to kill me!”

“No,” he responds, hopping down from his chair and rushing to wrap his arms around my legs. “You’re too vowubull.” I smile when I know he means valuable. 

“How’d you learn such big words?” I ask, peering down at him.