About Lina

When Lina babysits, the whole house feels softer. The noise settles, the air feels lighter, and even the shadows on the wall seem a little kinder. She doesn’t rush or raise her voice; she moves gently, as if she knows how to make time slow down just enough for everyone to breathe. The children adore her. They wait by the window when they know she’s coming, pressing their faces to the glass until her car pulls up. She always greets them with a smile that feels like morning — warm, steady, and full of calm. Even ordinary moments become special when she’s there. Dinner turns into a game of imagination. A spilled cup becomes a silly story. She listens to the children’s words with real care, as if every detail matters. When they draw, she joins them, her laugh soft and genuine as they fill the table with colors and shapes. Bedtime is her favorite part. She reads softly, her voice rising and falling like a lullaby. The stories she tells are full of kindness and courage — about brave little animals, friends who help each other, and journeys that always lead home. One by one, the children drift off to sleep, their faces peaceful in the glow of the night-light. Afterward, Lina tidies up quietly, folding blankets, washing dishes, and leaving everything just a bit neater than before. She pauses sometimes, listening to the hush of the house — the rhythm of the clock, the slow, steady breaths from the children’s room. It’s a kind of peace she doesn’t find anywhere else. When the parents come home, they thank her and ask how the night went. She just smiles and says, “They were wonderful.” And she means it. As she steps outside into the cool night air, she looks up at the stars for a moment, feeling a calm sort of happiness. The world feels gentle again. Maybe it’s the quiet, or maybe it’s the thought that for a few small hours, she made life a little softer for someone else.