My Husband Joked He Wanted a ‘Hot’ Babysitter, and I Agreed—But When the Door Opened, His Face Turned White
After my divorce, life with my husband Damon and our three-year-old twins was… exhausting. I handled everything—meals, meltdowns, laundry—while Damon disappeared into his gaming cave. Then one night, his offhand comment about wanting a “hot babysitter” hit me like a punch.
A week later, I told him we needed a babysitter. He gleamed, sending me profiles of young, attractive candidates. I let him dig, then quietly arranged the real surprise: Wallace. CPR-certified, degree in child development, experienced—and yes, very good-looking.
When Wallace arrived, Damon’s jaw hit the floor. I tilted my head innocently: “You said you wanted someone hot. Wallace is hot… just not the gender you expected.”
Over the next few days, Wallace charmed the twins, fixed the squeaky cabinet, and handled the chaos. Damon finally saw everything I’d been managing alone. That night, he cooked dinner and apologized.
Lesson learned: some jokes aren’t funny when the punchline is the person holding your whole world together.
