DISCLAIMER: I do not own Diary of a Wimpy Kid. However, this story and all OCs in it are mine.

Normally, issues in our house blow over in a couple of days because someone out stupids the other. It's a little weird that the issue with Rodrick going to college hasn't calmed down. Actually, if anything, it's gotten worse. Mom is still in shock, which I don't understand. I didn't have any expectations for my brother, actually, I've been waiting for him to pull something like this since the tenth grade. No offense to him, but he's the laziest person I know. He hardly got through high school. I don't see how he'd ever make college work. Apparently, Mom has a different vision of him, because she's got it in her mind that whether he likes it or not, he's going. There's just that little setback that he turns eighteen and then he can legally make his own decisions.

Anyway, I guess this has really been eating at Mom because she's been in a foul mood all week. I really do feel bad for dad, he has to deal with Rodrick AND Mom. I think I'd probably hang myself. He deals with things a little differently. Holing himself up in the basement with his civil war figurines. Meals are the only time we're all together, and those are tense. Of course, Manny doesn't notice. He's such a moron, just babbling away, not being able to make sense of why no one's laughing at his dumb jokes. That doesn't help. It's just the sound of munching and Manny. I hate meals almost as much as Sundays.

Well, today I was forced to learn that silent meals are better sometimes. Lunch started out as it had for the past week. We all sat down in an awkward, uncomfortable silence. I've been wondering lately what it'll be like if things don't get better. Mom and Dad will get divorced and move to different states and every other weekend I'll be stuck in an airplane with Rodrick and Manny for three hours. That is not allowed to happen.

That's not what ended up happening, but my fate is something I see as being equally as bad. We were all just sitting around when mom cleared her throat. "Your father and I have been talking," dad looked confused. I, on the other hand, have realized that when mom says this, it just means I've-been-thinking-and-I'm-forcing-your-Dad-to-back-me-up. "As you've probably heard, we've been... disagreeing a little lately." Rodrick snorted, earning him a sharp, reprimanding mom-look. I can't say I blame him. Mom basically just yells as him every night. "Well, we've decided that we're going to take family counseling classes."

Rodrick moaned. "Ugh, Mom! We're not fighting, why do we have to get involved?"

Mom glared at him. "You really aren't that involved Rodrick. Your father and I are going to go to the sessions twice a week."

Rodrick nodded. "I have band practice, so I can't be around."

Dad was about to say something, but mom cut him off. "Fine. I already know who'll be babysitting Greg and Manny."

Rodrick burst into laughter and I felt my face get hot. "Mom, I'm too old for a babysitter," I complained, "I can watch Manny. Plenty of people babysit at my age."

"Greg, you're just not mature enough to babysit Manny."

"Mom, I'm not getting a babysitter." I was pretty much frantically insisting on it at this point. Rodrick was laughing mockingly on the other side of the table. I just turned to mom, begging her with my eyes.

I guess I'm not very good at begging because she just set her lips in a firm line. "It's final Greg. You're going to get a babysitter."

At this point Rodrick was howling. Mom turned to him with a firm "Shush." And that was all the consolation I got. In my entire thirteen years of life, this was the most demeaning, insulting thing ever to happen to me. Nobody gets babysat at thirteen. Well, no one cool anyway. I can't speak for Rowley or Fregley, but no one who has any intention of not remaining bottom of the social food chain for life still has a babysitter at thirteen.

Add insult to injury, we're talking a MOM babysitter. That is the worst kind of babysitter. The babysitter's mom picks are the old women who knit and have a million cats. They're also the old women who only want to talk about knitting and cats. The only problem I might have with them is dying of boredom.

The last babysitter mom picked, Mrs. Figgins, was an aging woman with tufty white hair and a missing tooth. She'd been living alone since her late husband. I'm was pretty sure she's over a hundred years old and not qualified to babysit anyone. Mom sure knows how to pick 'em.

One year Rowley's babysitter was Heather Hills. Heather is the prettiest of the Hills girls... well, actually, Holly might be the prettiest... All the Hills girls are pretty. You can bet I wouldn't complain if mom picked one of them to be my babysitter, but noooo. Last year Rowley's parents stopped using Heather as a babysitter after they caught her smoking on their porch. I guess Mom heard about this and she's worried that someone too young and too 'rowdy' might give me ideas. Trust me, if I want ideas on how to be a bad kid I'll just ask Rodrick. He's an encyclopedia of all things parents might disaprove of.

The rest of the day has been pretty hard on me. I just want to ignore Mom, so I even took it so far as to duck into the garage during Rodrick's band practice.

"What are you doing down here?" my brother snapped at me when I sat myself down on an old crate.

"Watching you guys practice." I replied evenly. He glared at me and opened his mouth as though he were about to say something when he was interrupted.

"Hey! Little Rodrick! Dude!" Bill ran up to me, giving me a hard slap on the back. I'm pretty sure it was supposed to be affectionate, but if I hadn't known better, I would have said he was trying to kill me.

"Hey Bill," I winced at the pain on my back. For a guy with very minimal muscle mass, he sure can pack a punch.

Rodrick's other bandmates looked at me suspiciously, but seeing as Bill obviously likes having me there, they just decided to ignore me and play. There was a time when I enjoyed watching Loded Diper practice. That came to an end pretty quickly when I realized that the music they play is only listened to be losers and weirdos. In a nutshell, only guys like Rodrick listen to that kind of music.

Like I said, you know I'm getting desperate when I come down to listen to these guys, they aren't even that interesting. I think your sense of humor gets worse when you go to high school. In middle school, farts and poop really aren't THAT funny. According to Rodrick and his friends, these things are hilarious. In fact, I would say that 75% of their "band practice" consists of them taking turns saying dumb stuff into the microphone. They were passing it around with it on echo, when Bill got it.

"Want a try little dude?" He asked me nonchalantly.

"Ugh..." I didn't want to say no and look like I was boring or something, so I took it. "Who pooped their pants?" I said into it. With the echo on, the whole band, including Rodrick burst into hysterical laughter. Bill hit me on the back again in approval. I swear I'm going to have a bruise in the exact shape of Bill's hand on my back. I grinned though, since Mom had dropped the babysitter bomb on me, I'd been a little bit down in the dumps, having some stupid, immature, pointless fun with these guys was just that: fun. I laughed along with them (though I'm not sure why I did, it wasn't exactly funny) at all the potty-mouthed comments they made. On the rare occasion that they would start up another song, I would find myself tapping my feet to the rythm.

With a babysitter somewhere in my futur, it's not like I'm going to be popular anyway (I'll still try, but it's not really something I'd put money on at this point). Maybe I'll hang around with Rodrick's band more often. Then I'll become an exact replica of Bill (only slightly cleaner, because I really have no desire to smell like him) and that will teach my parents. If I become popular, I'll eventually be famous, maybe I'll even become president of the United States! Unfortunately, a babysitter is like hitting a slide in snakes an ladders. It sends you right back down to the bottom of the game board. I've worked too hard to get where I am to let some lousy babysitter ruin things for me. As everything stands I'd say if there are 150 kids in my grade I'm probably... oh, I don't know, 27th most popular. I lost some points when people thought I had the cheese touch, but since Holly Hills has been talking to me a little bit, that bumps me up more places than I lost with the cheese. The invisible Chirag joke also worked in my favor. Assuming word of this whole babysitter thing doesn't get out, I'd say I could breach the top twenty by the end of eighth grade. Then I'd be popular going into ninth grade. I need a plan. I can't let anything ruin my shot at popularity. Like I already explain: life is so much better when you're popular.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I'm pretty enthusiastic about this story. As you can tell, I haven't brought in any romance or OCs yet, but trust me, it's coming. I'm excited. Hope you are :3 Anyway, I really want to get as many chapters as possible up before I got to Thailand on Thursday. I'll try to post while I'm there, but I want to get my chapters up anyway. Please Review, compliments and constructive criticism are always welcomed!

xoxo

- Bird