Shengliver’s Note: The teen’s first babysitting experience helped him to get a better picture of babies.

Last year, my aunt gave birth to a baby. During the summer holidays, she asked me to go and stay in her home to help mind the child after my uncle went to work. I agreed, because my summer classes happened to be near her home.

I fell in love with my little cousin at first sight. Its little hands, little feet and chubby cheeks, oh my heart melted right away. It was so cute that I did not want to put it down once I picked it up. I buried my face in its and kissed it from time to time. It loved it.

The first day’s love and tenderness did not last into Day 2, however. On the second day, after lunch, my aunt put the baby in my arms. I cuddled it while watching TV. After a while, I felt something warm in my lap but I was not bothered. Then a weird smell crept up. I at once realised that something had gone terribly wrong. When I lifted the baby off my knees, some runny yellowish stuff came into view. Oh, I almost heaved.

Without delay, I pulled off my pants. “Oh, lord,” I exclaimed. What made me angry was that the baby was cooing happily. Although I wanted to kill the creature that I both loved and hated, I could do nothing.

I hate babies. They are more than smiles.