"Uncle Mikey, why are you wearing your mask tilted?"

Adjusting Rosalind's nightgown, Michelangelo replied, "Just covering my eyes, mini-bud. It ain't right for a guy to see a girl changing, y'know." When Rosalind asked why, Michelangelo sheepishly answered, "I'll tell you when you're older."

Sliding his bandanna back around so that he could see again, Michelangelo picked the girl up and carried her over to the bed. "Okay, that was about twelve renditions of the 'Batty Rap' while you were brushing your teeth and changing. Am I off the hook now?"

"Only because it's story time!" Rosalind responded excitedly.

If he didn't have the amount of energy he was infamous for, Michelangelo would have been exhausted. Instead, he laid her down on her bed and jumped in next to her, grabbing the small pile of books he had placed on her night table. "Okay, the bad news is you don't exactly have a wide array of choices," he told her as he looked through the titles. "When your birthday rolls around, I'm gonna have to invest in some R.L. Stine for you. For now, we've got three different Bernstein Bears stories—one about the dangers of junk food, one about the importance of visiting the dentist, and another one about not talking to strangers—all of which lead me to believe that I need to have a serious talk with your dad. The good news is I found this old copy of Frankenstein in your dad's room! It looks a little too long for me to finish in one night, but hey… it's Frankenstein!"

Rosalind quickly shuffled through the books until she took out the story about not talking to strangers. "Ah, c'mon, Ros," Michelangelo groaned. "You're kidding me, right? Some of my best friends were strangers! Heck, if I didn't talk to strangers, I never woulda met April, and then your dad wouldn't be taking anyone out on a date. And hey, Allison was a stranger when I first met her, but if I hadn't talked to her, you and me never would've met!"

The girl seemed to consider this for a moment before asking, "So… talking to strangers is okay?" Michelangelo was about to say something, but stopped. Perhaps he wasn't the best person to talk to about human interactions.

"You know," he murmured as he took the book from her, defeated, "just chalk it up to something else I'll explain to you when you're older. All I'll say right now is that when you live in a sewer, strangers are normal."

He opened the book and was about to begin reading when Rosalind spoke up. "Uncle Mikey?" Michelangelo looked down at her as she lowly asked, "Why do you look different? Different from me and Daddy?"

Michelangelo blinked down at her, not knowing what to say. Up until now, it seemed like Rosalind had simply assumed that he was a superhero with special powers, and that was why he "looked different." Judging by the serious look in her eyes, though, it seemed like she's really been wondering over this recently.

"I, uh…" Michelangelo started awkwardly. "Um, if I tell you a story about green alien goo and Japanese martial arts, would you believe me?"

Rosalind looked up at him blankly. Finally, she answered, "I'll believe anything you tell me, Uncle Mikey. You're a good guy."Michelangelo's eyes softened. Outside of his family, he couldn't think of anyone who actually said that they trusted him. It was a nice thing to hear.

Cuddling up next to Rosalind, he quietly said, "Once upon a time, there were four baby turtles who just got bought by a little kid. They were really happy to be going to a nice home, and they were even happier because they liked being together, since they considered themselves brothers. But on the way there, the kid that was carrying them fell, and the turtles dropped into the sewer. Being babies, they didn't know better and began walking around in this really disgusting glowing green ooze. They were rescued by a rat who saw the whole thing. And something really weird happened. They all started to grow. And as they grew, they got smarter and faster and stronger. And so the rat, who used to belong to a ninja master in Japan, decided to teach these four turtles how to be ninjas. I guess there's really not much else he could've done with his spare time, y'know? So these ninja turtles lived in the sewer all by themselves until they saved a girl who was about to be eaten by these creepy little robots. Her name was April, and she was really nice… once she, y'know, stopped freaking out. She became friends with the turtles, and they eventually met a crazy guy named Casey and lots of other cool people.

"One of these people was another girl named Allison. Allison was hurt and when one of the turtles—the dashingly handsome one named Michelangelo, by the way—took her back to where they lived, lots of crazy stuff happened. In the process, they found a car with a little, tiny baby inside. The car and the baby both belonged to one of Allison's friends, and she was really scared that something might have happened to him. And so the turtles calmed Allison down and tracked down her friend, while only one of the turtles—again, that dashingly handsome one named Michelangelo—was able to keep the baby from crying. Though it was almost two years later before Michelangelo saw the baby again, he never forgot about her, because he knew she'd be the most amazing sidekick this side of the galaxy as soon as she was able to walk. And you know what? He was right."

He looked down to see that Rosalind had closed her eyes. Either the story wasn't as exciting as he had thought, or she had been more tired out by the events of the night than she let on. Still, he continued towards the conclusion. "Not too long ago, I would've said that we look different because we are. But seeing how close Allison and Raphael are, and how much you look up to me, mini-bud, I'm beginning to think that that's not true. We might look different, but we're the same. And no matter how many vegetables your dad makes you eat, that's not gonna change."

"Maybe if I eat enough green," Rosalind murmured sleepily, "then I'll be green, too." Michelangelo laughed as he got up and tucked the blankets around her.

"I doubt it," he whispered. "But there's no harm in trying." Picking up the pile of books he had laid around her bed, he leaned in and gave her a small kiss on the forehead. "G'night, mini-bud. Sweet dreams."

He quietly went towards the door and hit the light switch. Just as he was about to leave, Rosalind called his name. Looking back, he saw that she had sat herself up and was looking at him. In a shy voice, she asked, "Uncle Mikey… do you think, when I'm bigger… we can be like Allison and Raphael?"

Michelangelo widened his eyes, feeling a hot blush rise to his cheeks. "Uh," he stammered, "just, uh… how much do you know about Allison and Raphael?" When she didn't answer, he figured that she probably knew enough to know what she was asking. "I know this is the twenty-first century and that girls a lot more straightforward," he breathed, "but this is kinda ridiculous."

Seeing Rosalind look down, Michelangelo quickly added, "How about this: keep that in the back of your head for the next, oh… sixteen years. If you still feel the same way, ask me the question again. At least then, I won't be eight times your age."

Being as resilient as most children are, Rosalind smiled and replied, "Okay, Uncle Mikey! Good night!" She lay back down and covered herself in the blankets. Michelangelo watched over her for a moment before shaking his head and closing the door behind him.

Can't let Raph know about this, he knew. I've got a lot of taunting due my way.

---

"Mike! Just the turtle I wanted to see!"

Michelangelo looked up from his cereal, having just sat himself down to watch some Saturday morning cartoons. "Allison! Hey! Wasn't expecting to see you here so early! Considering how late Raph got in last night, I figured the both of you would probably be sleeping until noon." Offering her a spoon full of chocolate cereal, he asked, "Cocoa Puffs?"

"No thanks," Allison remarked, standing by the sofa and looking down at him. "I actually came down here as an emissary." Michelangelo asked what she meant, and she queried, "So, I heard you were babysitting Ros last night. How'd it go?"

"Oh, it was great!" Michelangelo gushed. "Sweetest little kid I've ever seen… granted, most of the little kids I see are on television screens. But yeah, I never knew a kid her age who was so quiet. And smart! If she was any more of a dork, I'd say she's growing up to be another Donnie."

"I heard that," said Donatello, who was working on his computer in the corner.

"So…" Allison continued, sitting besides Michelangelo. "Anything exciting happen? Any trouble?"

"Trouble?" Michelangelo asked. "Pshaw! You're kidding, right? How could there be trouble? We watched a movie and I sang to her and told her a story, and that's pretty much it. Not even an idiot could get into trouble with a deal like that!"

Allison raised an eyebrow, then took a newspaper out of her bag. Michelangelo immediately knew that he was going to end up regretting his words. The paper was folded over to a specific article, and Allison tossed it onto his lap. "I've got a sudden urge to sing 'American Idiot,'" she told him. "Don't know why."

Michelangelo gulped at the headline. "Toddler and Mystery Man Foil Robbery-in-Progress!" A quick scan of the first paragraph informed him that two-year-old Rosalind Donnelly called 9-1-1 from a house that was currently being burglarized by a man and his two stepsons. When asked if she was in danger, the toddler proclaimed, "Nope! My Uncle Mikey's taking care of it!" Police have no leads on who this "Uncle Mikey" was, as neither he nor the young girl live in the house, but they have him to thank for disarming the culprits.

"Oh… my… gosh," Donatello breathed. Michelangelo flinched, not having heard his brother creep up behind him and read over his shoulder. "Mikey, you… you didn't! What in the world were you thinking?"

"Robert flipped his lid," Allison told him. "He would've thought he was seeing things, but Rosalind admitted to everything. He was just about ready to jump into the nearest sewer with a chainsaw. By the way, he was wondering whether or not a chainsaw would actually cut through your shell."

"I've never tested it," Donatello replied, "but I'm almost tempted to serve Mike up as a guinea pig for that. Seriously, Mikey, do you have any idea how much trouble you could have gotten her into? She's only two years old! Wait until Leo and Master Splinter hear about this!"

Ignoring his brother's lecture, Michelangelo put his bowl of cereal down on the coffee table and offered Allison a sideways glance. "So… how was Robert's date last night?"

Allison blinked at him. "Great, apparently," she confessed. "He's going to help Robyn move into her new apartment next week."

"Really?" Michelangelo asked. "And who's gonna watch the mini-bud?"

"I am!" Allison said sternly.

"You are what?" Raphael replied drowsily, surfacing from his room after hearing Allison's voice. Allison huffily replied that she'll be watching Rosalind the following Saturday. Raphael widened his eyes. "What? I thought ya told me you were gonna help me 'n Casey check inventory over at April's store. She's got that new shipment comin' in and needs our help."

Having forgotten about that, Allison lowered her eyes. "Man," she muttered, "you'd think she'd be making enough money to afford a couple of full-time assistants."

"How do ya think I managed to pay for the tickets to last night's game?" Raphael asked her sarcastically.

"Soooo," Michelangelo brought up casually, putting an arm around Allison's shoulders. "Rosalind's gonna need a babysitter again, huh? I mean, let's face it: moving heavy boxes around is way too dangerous to do with a little kid at your heels."

"So is stopping three armed men when you're supposed to be babysitting!" Donatello reminded him.

"Donnie, go away," Michelangelo told him. "I'm trying to settle a business deal here."

"Mike," Allison said, "if you honestly believe that Rob would let you babysit his daughter again after that crazy stunt you pulled last night, then you're even more insane than I had given you credit for."

"You'd be surprised by his unlimited stupidity," Raphael told her, crashing down between them on the couch. "Look, just have Mikey come with us to the shop. That way you, me, Casey, 'n April can keep an eye on both 'a the rugrats."

"You and Casey as babysitters," Allison moaned. "Why does this not sound like a better idea?"

"Settled!" Michelangelo said quickly, standing up and taking the newspaper with him. "Woo-hoo, another day with the mini-bud!"

"What's this?" Leonardo asked, coming in from his room. "Did you just get yourself another babysitting gig, Mikey? He must've done some bang-up job last night, huh?" When he received no answer, Leonardo wondered, "What?"

Raising an eye ridge, Donatello remarked, "Read the newspaper he's holding."

"Eep!" Michelangelo squeaked. Leonardo looked at him suspiciously, not liking the fact that Michelangelo would rather keep something newsworthy from him. Leonardo approached him, but Michelangelo quickly dashed away, ripping the newspaper up as he went along.

"It's okay," Allison told Leonardo as she reached into her bag. "I figured he might do that, so I brought another copy. You might want to sit down for this, Leonardo."