You get what you pay for.

The other day I asked Layla to "babysit" Weston while I made dinner. She does this a lot, and I usually give her a few coins to put in her piggy bank as payment for her services. I figure it's worth twelve cents to have both kids occupied while I'm in the kitchen. Apparently that's all it's worth.

I heard Weston making some strange noises, grunts and small cries, and stepped in to make sure everything was under control. I found Layla vigorously burying her brother under a mountain of stuffed animals, and laying on top of the pile when he tried to move. I asked her what she was doing, and she replied, "I'm putting Bubby to bed, Mom, it's what babysitters do."