Mitchell: Cake, Bounce, Repeat

Truett never expected his first day as a daycare assistant to be quite like this. At 18, he thought he was prepared for anything. But nothing could have prepared him for Mitchell.

The two-year-old tornado sat in the corner, chocolate cake smeared across his face, pampers riding low, shirt askew. Mitchell’s approach to snack time was less about eating and more about creating a culinary crime scene.

Truett watched in a mix of horror and fascination as Mitchell transitioned from cake demolition to his next mission: the giant bouncing ball.

With the confidence of a seasoned toddler, Mitchell climbed aboard. Bounce. Bounce. BOUNCE.

And then – the inevitable happened.

A sudden, thunderous fart erupted mid-bounce. The room went silent. Mitchell looked around, completely unfazed, as if this were a standard part of his daily routine. Truett bit back a laugh, trying to maintain some semblance of professional composure.

The other toddlers stared in a mix of shock and pure admiration.

Did Mitchell care? Absolutely not.

He continued bouncing, now with an added sense of triumph. The accidental emission seemed to validate his status as the most important person in the room. Bounce. Giggle. Another unexpected sound. Bounce again.

Truett realized quickly that his job description was less about actual assistance and more about damage control. Mitchell’s version of “playing” involved:

• Spreading chocolate cake across multiple surfaces

• Creating unexpected sound effects

• Bouncing with the enthusiasm of a caffeinated kangaroo

• Generating maximum chaos with minimum effort

By the end of the day, Truett had learned more about toddler management than any training could have prepared him for. Mitchell sat proudly on his bouncing ball, shirt covered in chocolate, pampers stretched, looking like the most satisfied tiny human in the universe.

Just another day in the life of an 18-year-old daycare assistant.