Big Brother Duties

Benton Matthews had seen a lot of things in his twenty-three years growing up in Oregon, but nothing quite prepared him for becoming a mentor and big brother to a two-year-old. As a lacrosse player at the local college, he was used to dealing with guys his own age - not tiny humans who still wore diapers and spoke in half-sentences.

The whole thing started when Mitchell's family moved to Oregon, and somehow Benton got roped into being the kid's "big brother" through some community program. He figured it would be easy money and maybe look good on his resume. What he didn't expect was actually getting attached to the little dude.

It was a rainy Thursday evening when Mitchell's mom dropped him off at Benton's apartment for their first overnight stay. The kid was clutching a stuffed dinosaur and looking around with those wide, curious eyes that two-year-olds have.

"Alright, buddy," Benton said, crouching down to Mitchell's level. "Welcome to Casa de Benton. It's not much, but the couch is pretty comfortable."

Mitchell toddled around the living room, immediately gravitating toward Benton's lacrosse gear in the corner. The kid picked up a stick that was almost twice his height and started swinging it around like he was born for the sport.

"Easy there, Tiger Woods," Benton laughed, gently taking the stick away. "Let's save the athletic training for when you can walk without falling over every five minutes."

As the evening wore on, Mitchell's energy finally started to crash. The little guy had been running around, exploring every corner of the apartment, and now he was rubbing his eyes and getting cranky. Benton looked at his couch - a beat-up leather sectional that had seen better days but was still comfortable enough for a grown man to crash on after practice.

"Looks like someone's ready for bed," Benton said, scooping Mitchell up. The kid immediately curled into his chest, and Benton felt that weird protective instinct kick in again.

He settled Mitchell on the couch with a blanket and pillow, but within minutes, the little guy was fast asleep, sprawled out like he owned the place. Benton shook his head with a grin. The kid had more confidence than half the guys on his lacrosse team.

Before heading to his own bed, Benton realized he should probably change Mitchell's diaper. He'd watched enough of his teammates deal with their little siblings to know that a wet diaper meant a cranky kid in the morning.

"Alright, Mitchell," he whispered, carefully lifting the sleeping toddler. "Let's get you sorted out."

The diaper change was... an adventure. Mitchell barely stirred as Benton fumbled through the process, trying to remember which tabs went where and making sure everything was secure. Finally, he got a fresh pamper on the kid and tucked him back onto the couch.

"There we go, little man. All set for the night."

Morning came way too early, announced by Mitchell's voice echoing through the apartment.

"Benny! Benny! Up! Up!"

Benton groaned and rolled out of bed, his hair sticking up in every direction. He stumbled into the living room to find Mitchell standing on the couch, bouncing slightly and grinning like he'd just won the lottery.

"Morning, sunshine," Benton mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "You're way too energetic for—" He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed something. "Dude, what did you DO?"

Mitchell's diaper was absolutely packed. Like, impressively packed. The thing looked like it was about to burst at the seams, and the kid was just standing there, proud as could be.

"Holy crap, Mitchell," Benton said, then immediately realized his word choice. "I mean... wow. That's... that's actually kind of impressive."

Mitchell giggled and clapped his hands, clearly pleased with himself.

"Alright, we definitely need to get you changed before you explode," Benton said, reaching for the diaper bag. "Seriously, how does someone so small produce so much—"

That's when it happened.

As Benton leaned over to pick Mitchell up, his stomach decided to announce its presence with authority. The fart that escaped was epic - the kind that would have earned him high-fives in the locker room and probably cleared out half the guys on his team.

The sound echoed through the apartment like thunder, and for a moment, both Benton and Mitchell just stared at each other in stunned silence.

Then Mitchell burst into the most delighted laughter Benton had ever heard. The kid was practically falling over, pointing at Benton and giggling like it was the funniest thing in the world.

"Oh man," Benton said, his face turning red as he started laughing too. "That was... that was a good one. Even coach would be impressed with that."

Mitchell was still cracking up, trying to mimic the sound and failing spectacularly, which only made both of them laugh harder.

"Alright, alright," Benton said, wiping tears from his eyes. "Let's not tell your mom about this, okay? This is just between us guys."

Mitchell nodded seriously, like he was being inducted into some secret brotherhood.

"Benny funny!" Mitchell declared, still giggling.

"Yeah, well, wait until you're older, buddy. I've got way better material than that."

As Benton finally got Mitchell changed and started making breakfast, he realized something. This whole big brother thing might actually be pretty cool. Sure, it involved more bodily functions than he'd bargained for, but the kid's laugh was infectious, and there was something awesome about being the guy Mitchell looked up to.

Plus, he had a feeling Mitchell was going to fit right in with the team mentality - the kid clearly appreciated good locker room humor.

"Alright, Mitchell," Benton said, setting a plate of cut-up pancakes in front of the toddler. "Rule number one of being a guy: always own your bodily functions. Rule number two: never waste a good fart joke."

Mitchell clapped his hands and dug into his breakfast, and Benton couldn't help but grin. This was definitely going to be an interesting mentorship.