Why I Locked Mitchell in His Playpen and Stood My Ground

College life is unpredictable, but nothing prepared me for the chaos that came with babysitting Mitchell. He’s an adult-sized two-year-old with his own unique needs and routines, and when some professors at the college suggested enrolling him in community college classes, I knew immediately that wasn’t the right path—not for him, not for me.

Mitchell isn’t like other students. He thrives in a structured, familiar environment where he can focus on his preschool work without distractions or pressure. The idea of throwing him into a college classroom was not only unrealistic but potentially harmful. So, I made a decision that sparked outrage: I locked Mitchell in his playpen with his preschool book. It was the only way to give him the calm and space he needed to stay grounded.

The professors were furious. They didn’t understand why I was “locking him up” instead of integrating him into classes. The situation escalated quickly, and before I knew it, I was facing serious accusations. The threat of jail time loomed over me because, in their eyes, I was neglecting or mistreating Mitchell. But as his caretaker, I knew better. I knew what Mitchell needed to thrive, and it wasn’t a college lecture hall.

During that time in the playpen, Mitchell did what he always does—he unloaded into his Pampers. The smell, the mess, the whole ordeal—it was classic Mitchell. But I didn’t flinch. I didn’t back down. I understood that this was part of his routine, part of what made him comfortable and secure. Trying to force him out of that routine would have done more harm than good.

Standing my ground wasn’t easy. The backlash was intense. I faced judgment not only from professors but from other students and even some family members who thought I was being too strict or not doing enough. But I held firm because my priority was Mitchell’s well-being, not appeasing a system that didn’t understand him.

Babysitting Mitchell isn’t conventional or easy. It’s messy, unpredictable, and often misunderstood. But it’s real. And sometimes, doing what’s right means standing firm in the face of criticism, legal threats, and social pressure. It means protecting the person you care for, even when the world doesn’t see it your way.

Looking back, I don’t regret my decision. I did what I believed was best for Mitchell, and in the end, that’s all that matters. Being his caretaker means making tough calls, embracing the chaos, and never losing sight of what he needs to feel safe and supported.

After the storm at the college, we finally made it back to the house. The tension from the professors still hung in the air, but I was determined to keep things steady for Mitchell. I set him down in his playpen, the familiar space where he could focus without distractions. As I closed the gate behind him, I couldn’t help but let out a loud fart right into the playpen. Mitchell looked up at me, eyes wide, and then burst into that infectious giggle that always reminded me he was still just a kid in his own world.

I knelt down beside the playpen and told him, “Listen, buddy, there’s nothing those professors can do. You’ve got to keep working on your preschool book. This is your space, and we’re going to make it work.” Mitchell seemed to understand, or at least he accepted the routine. He grabbed his crayons and dove right back into his workbook, tracing letters and coloring shapes with surprising focus.

The professors might have been furious, and the college might have threatened me with jail, but none of that mattered here. In this playpen, Mitchell was safe, comfortable, and able to learn at his own pace. I knew that pushing him into their world wasn’t the answer. This was his world, and I was going to protect it.

As the hours passed, Mitchell worked diligently, occasionally pausing to wiggle or make a noise, but always returning to his book. I stayed close, ready to help or just be there when he needed me. The messes, the farts, the chaos—it was all part of the journey. And no matter what anyone else said, I knew we were doing what was right.

Babysitting Mitchell isn’t about fitting him into someone else’s expectations. It’s about creating a space where he can thrive, no matter how unconventional that looks. And as long as he’s in that playpen, working on his preschool book, I’ll stand firm—because that’s what he deserves.