Napoleon took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and placed the baby on the changing table.

"This isn't so bad... I can do this. After all, I've dealt with THRUSH, I've worked with explosives... changing a baby ought to be a piece of cake."

There was a loud crash from the other room, but Christian's wails prevented him from checking on it.

"Fine, fine, you first... I'm getting to it." He pulled a fresh diaper out of a drawer on the table and unpinned the one that the baby was wearing. "Well, this isn't so bad. It's just wet, okay... Say, you know how to put one of these on?"

Another loud sound from the other room, and he left the un-diapered baby where it was and dashed to the door.

Illya was curled up in the corner behind the dining room table, head buried against his knees. Claire and Micheal were jumping on the couch with a large dog.

"Hey, hey, hey! The note says that dog lives outside!" Napoleon led the dog past an upturned potted palm and into the backyard, closing and locking the door.

With the animal gone, Illya re-entered the living room. "The two of you are in a good deal of trouble, do you understand?"

The children had the good grace to look recalcitrant, but not very.

"I don't think I will finish the story now."

Claire looked truly sorry. "But it was a good story, and we don't know the ending."

"Max is a good dog." Micheal said, looking at the back door. "Mommy said he could come in."

"That's not what she wrote in the note." Napoleon said, hands on hips. Another wail from Christian reminded him that he had an unfinished task. "Illya, do you know how to get a diaper on to a baby?"

"Like getting one off, only backwards. It's your job, and I will not get roped into doing it. I have been through enough."

Napoleon shrugged and returned to the bathroom.

"Now, once your brother has been diapered, I expect the two of you to go brush your teeth and change into your pyjamas. You can do this on your own, yes?"

"I can." Claire said. "Micheal can't."

"Can so!"

"Can not!"

"Can so!"

"Stop it." Shouting was unnecessary. They stopped. "Micheal, you are capable of doing these things yourself?"

"Uh-huh." The boy nodded.

"Good. Then you will do them."

"If we do, will you finish the story?"

"If you do not, not only will I never finish the story, and I will tell your mother that you were uncooperative."

"If we do, will you finish the story?"

"You do not seem to understand, Claire. You are in no position to bargain."

Napoleon came back, this time holding Christian, passably diapered. "Oh, for crying out loud, Illya, finish telling them the story."

He brooded for a moment. "Very well. But only if they brush their teeth right now. No dawdling, and brush them properly."

Claire and Micheal ran off, and Napoleon placed the baby in its bassinet.

"I don't think we're doing a bad job." He said, earning a glare.

"Napoleon, that... that monster they let in the house knocked me flat on my back, destroyed the palm tree, jumped all over the furniture, and I couldn't do a thing about it. The children throw food, argue, disobey, and manipulate. One thing keeps me from going insane right now, Napoleon, do you know what that is?"

"Enlighten me."

"We will never have children."

Napoleon opened his mouth to speak, but Illya cut him off.

"Never, Napoleon. Never."

---

This page is an unofficial site that exists only for the fun of it. All characters and situations from the television show "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." are property of Norman Felton and Warner Bros. Nothing ill is intended by this use of any television characters in these amateur efforts. Any fiction linked to these pages is the intellectual property of the amateur author who created it and is not presented here for profit.