Ctrl-A-Delete, a Glee fiction

To my dear readers,

I am sad to say that this will be the final chapter. It has been an amazing time with all the dedicated reviewers and followers, but like all good things, it must come to an end. I'm still open to prompts as always, so don't hesitate to ask. Now without further ado, chapter 56.

I do not own Glee. I do however own Karlie's song, which can be found on Youtube: (Vegetables) a Maroon 5 Misery Parody.

Dear Kurt,

Today I bring you another story from the adventures of babysitting. I seem to be doing it a lot more often since Klement was born. I'm terribly sorry that a lot of our dates have been crashed by two small children. You know how many times I've wanted to push you into a janitor's closet at school just to have my way with you? Okay, truth be told, it's not that many because the Warblers don't mind when we act all coupley around each other. (Even if they do rib on us.)

It was lunch time and Karlie's mom had prepared a menu of what she wants her to eat. Apparently she visited the doctor for a check up and he said she could stand to lose a few pounds. I think she put on the weight when Nana stopped cooking. She's been living on a diet of microwave pizza rolls ever since.

Then she started to sing. To the tune of Misery no less.

"Your limp asparagus you pile in excess. It puts me in a state of extreme distress. It may be good for me, but I don't really care. Cause eating vegetables just causes more despair. So I will eat, unhappily. I don't like broccoli. Can I get some melted cheese? Oh yeah."

I'd go on, but I posted the entire song to Youtube for your viewing pleasure.


Dear Kurt,

I am thoroughly embarrassed. I was wearing those pants that you like (yes, my butt grab pants). Karlie asked that we play Dance Dance Revolution. I told her we couldn't or we would wake the baby. So instead she challenged me to a dance off. She was kicking like a Rockette. Then she tried to do a split but couldn't go down all the way. She asked me if I could do a split. So I decided to try. Not a smart idea while wearing BGPs. I went down, and so did a tear, right down the back of my pants. It's true.

I ripped the BGPs.

Please don't cry. I need you to fix them. The tear isn't terribly big (yet large enough for Karlie to make a joke about my underwear). If not we'll have to go shopping again and you'll have to help me find a new pair.

And you know what happens when we're pantless in dressing rooms.


Dear Kurt,

You know what stinks? Klement's diaper. He's up, and he needs a changing. I always hate this part. When we adopt, we're getting someone who's potty trained. I've had enough experience with the yellow Fountain of Youth to last.

I've finally mastered the art of diaper origami. I can get him to hold still and fit the diaper on him. Turns out the Barney theme song is very soothing to him.

I feel ashamed admitting I still remember the Barney theme song, but that's not the point here.

Karlie was watching me do it. It was making me really nervous, as if she was grading me. Evidently, she said she wanted to learn how to change a baby. I showed her step by step. Now she can change his diapers. Hopefully, because he sure goes a lot.

I should apologize to my parents for having to change my diapers all those times ago. I know it was their responsibility, but I could've held it in. Or at least sat still while they tried to change me. I was a very squirmish baby. Very ticklish.

There is a slight possibility that the latter may still be true.

Not that you need to test that out. It's not like all tickle wars end in making out like on tv.

Maybe we should test it out after all.


Despite the fact that her birthday isn't anytime soon, Karlie wants me to start planning for her birthday party. She says that the best extravaganzas (well, she said "extra vagazas" but you can't expect her to pronounce a word that long correctly at her age) are planned months in advance. I decided to play along. She did eat her broccoli after all.

She said she wanted a theme party. Not anything normal, like pirates, or pajamas, or swimming. No, she wants a Lady Gaga party.

I told her I refuse to wear a meat dress. They'd probably lay me on the grill, eat all the meat and then I'd be naked. There are only select times that I should be naked. At a child's party is not one of them.

Her next great idea? The circus. As in, hire an actual circus with elephants and acrobats and the works. In my backyard. I do not want to be responsible for cleaning up whatever mess that elephant leaves behind. Or those kids. So people do not like clowns. Like how you aren't too fond of vampires.

She wants me to ask you for ideas because I'm shooting all of her's down.

She called me a


Dear Kurt,

I am freaking out right now. Karlie went to the kitchen to grab a glass of milk and when she came back she tripped over a toy that she had left out. The same toy I had told her to put away three times. (Told her three times. She only had to put it away once.) And then the milk ended spilling all over my laptop. Which is now broken, and I'm borrowing my aunt's laptop to write you this message. I was going to ask you for birthday party tips for Karlie. But now I'm more concerned with not crying over spilled milk, which is really hard, because my laptop is ruined. This sucks.

If you do have any ideas you can text me. Or come over. I could use a hug. If not, I'll see you tomorrow. We're still on for our coffee date yes?



(P.S. I also ruined my BGPs, so you should fix them. Then at least one of my problems will be solved.)