Kim froze in fear and alarm, balanced precariously in a half-sitting position, his right hand gripping the plastic teething rail of the drop side. He had really screwed up – Heather was home! And the other voice, loud, shrill, demanding, typically bitchy, had to be Amanda’s! Kim glanced around himself in shear terror. He could not be found by Heather and Mandy sitting in a crib wearing a diaper!
Rivulets of sweat ran past Kim’s ears and down his blanching cheeks as he strained to keep still. If he were not in the crib, he might be able to hide, either behind some of the boxes or under the crib itself. If he could only reach his clothes on the floor, he might minimize the devastating humiliation by at least getting dressed. His slightest movement, however, made the plastic of the mattress pad crackle loudly as he pealed free and the springs scream harshly as his shifting weight ground metal on metal.