I don't own glee...

A/N: I was listening to Falling Slowly, Take Care of Yourself, and Being Green by Damian McGinty while I was writing this. He's such a good singer!

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Rory opened his eyes. He kicked his foot out, stretching and yawning.

"Good morning, cupcake." The girl looked down at him. She was wide awake, she'd already eaten breakfast. "You hungry?"

"Hungry and thirsty."

"I'll be right back."

He turned to lay on his back, pulling the blanket with him.

The girl returned with with a tray containing apple juice, a bagel and yogurt. She put the tray down beside Rory on the bed. "Let's sit up so you don't choke." She grabbed his underarms and got him up on his rear, then adjusted the blanket for him. She gave him a swallow of the apple juice, then held a bagel half to his lips.

Rory tugged off a bite of the crispy bread, cream cheese coating his top lip. He took a few more bites before she took the bagel away from his mouth.

"Juice," he demanded, instantly receiving the straw. He swallowed the liquid as she put a full spoon against his lips.

He slurped the yogurt into his mouth. Yuck. Blueberry.

"Rory, honey, you don't like it?"

He shook his head, unsatisfied.

She sealed the lid on the yogurt and set it down. "Well, let's eat your bagel, then I'll go get you a different yogurt."

Rory finished the bagel. He scooted around to notice that his diaper was wet. "Can I have a new nappy?"

The girl reached under the bed for a bag.

"Can I?"

She removed a diaper, Vaseline, and wipes from the bag. "Uh huh." She laid him on his back, moved the blanket, and pulled his pants down. She removed his soiled diaper, which was a little heavy due to how much it was filled, and rolled it up to put it in the trash. "Looks like you have a rash." She wiped him quickly so the baby wipe wouldn't make the tiny rash burn. She then slathered some Vaseline on the irritated skin, and placed him in a fresh diaper.

The girl stored the Vaseline and wipes in the bag and slid it underneath the bed. "I'll go get your yogurt."

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Rory sat up at the foot of the bed, touching his feet to the carpet.

"No, Rory," the girl scolded, "get back on the bed!"

"I want to turn the fan up. It's a little hot in here."

"You are not allowed out of that bed unless I pick you up. Got that?"

"Yes. Sorry."

"Now, even though I am mad at Rory, I will turn up the fan and change him into shorts because we wouldn't want him to suffer."