Katelyn stays put, closes her eyes, half-listening as a muffled conversation takes place by front door.
“But Mom…‟ And then when that doesn’t apparently cut it, as if two extra letters will work magic, “Mommy“.
And that will work. Katelyn falls back onto the couch, rubs her eyes, and waits while her sister is mollified. A minute later, the sound of her sister’s Mary Janes thudding upstairs and then it’s her mother;s turn to stand in front of the TV with a pained look on her face. Why can’t they just get along?
“I wasn‟t going to touch her and she knows it.” Katelyn holds her hands up, as if to prove she‟s not armed and dangerous.
“Emmy’s just a little girl. You’re the big sister, you need to look after her, not threaten her.”
Katelyn says, “She’s nine. And what was I doing when I was nine? Looking after her!”
“She’s still my baby,‟ her mother says. :You know she’s sensitive.”
Katelyn won‟t be moved. “You should be toughening her up instead of letting her live in a bubble.” She takes a hair-band from her pocket and starts arranging her hair into a ponytail. “You didn‟t send me to a fancy school when I was little, you-”
“I would’ve done if we’d had the money. We’re in a better place now.”
“Lucky Emmy,‟ Katelyn says coolly.
Another pained look from her mother. “Sweetie, I”m beat. Can we-”
“Whatever,” says Katelyn. “I need to get ready for work.” She goes back upstairs to her bedroom. And this time, she slams the door.
* * *
Nothing on Facebook. Nothing worth a response. Still pink from her post-Carlotta’s shower, still bubbling from the post-shift beer, Katelyn sits at her laptop and scrolls down the updates.
It‟s all so petty; Sara sniping at Chris, Tom whining about deadlines. You think this is hard? They keep hearing. Wait ‘til you get to college. Wait ‘til you’re on your own.
Her Nokia buzzes on the desk, a text from Rob:
sry bout B4… %-) presuR…i jst wan2B close2U
She rolls her eyes. Only Rob can fit an apology and a demand into the same thought. Everyone wants a piece of her; especially her boyfriend.
Then, back on Facebbok, an invitation for a new game, beyond the practised tedium of FarmLand and DinerWorld and boasting a 4.5 out of 5 rating.
Katelyn sighs. A fantasy status update? Like a virtual wishing well without any fancy graphics. She grants it access, and is not impressed to find nothing has changed except for a glowing pink line around her status update box.
What’s on your mind?
Why bother? Her best-laid plans don‟t come true, never mind her day-dreams. She sighs. But perhaps imaginary wish-fulfilment is better than nothing.
Katelyn types in the box, smirks, and clicks “share”.
Chapter 2
Facebook update:
Katelyn Wheatley is finally getting a break from her adult responsibilities (and some space from Rob) while her little sister is learning about responsibility (instead of watching the Disney Channel)
7 hours ago • Comment • Like
A blast of sunshine wakes Katelyn the next morning. She pulls the comforter over her head.
“Rise and shine, sleepy-head.” Her mother, the guilty party, walks over from the window and tugs the comforter back down, and Katelyn blinks up at the smiling face.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Why…” Katelyn trails off.
As her eyes adjust to the light, she realises that her mother waking her up for the first time since she left elementary school is not the strangest thing going on this morning.
The comforter is proudly promoting High School Musical. And when Katelyn can tear her eyes away long enough she sees a Justin Bieber poster tacked to her bedroom wall.
For some reason, she has woken up in her little sister”s bedroom.
Except she hasn’t. Her textbooks for AP English Lit and Psychology are still sitting on her desk where she left them, along with her MacBook. This is Katelyn”s bedroom with a pre-teen twist.
She throws off the HSM comforter to find she has slept in matching pajamas. “O…M…G.”
Her mother comes forward. “Did you have an accident, sweetie?”
Katelyn frowns in confusion, then understands and shakes her head vigorously. “No! I mean, c’mon, of course not.”
She looks up at her mother and asks, not just rhetorically, “How old do you think I am?”
Her mother smiles. “Just because you”re a high school senior, doesn”t mean you”re not still my little Lynnie.” She bends down long enough to deliver Katelyn a kiss on the cheek. “Now get movin” and get dressed, sweetie. You”re sister”s up already and we”re making pancakes!”
Weird. Katelyn watches her mother leave, and then swings out of bed and stands up in front of her full-length mirror to check she hasn”t shrunk in the night. But she’s the same height.
She spies a flash of plaid behind her, and she turns around to find an outfit laid out on the chair by her desk. An outfit that looks identical to Emily”s school uniform.
Katelyn holds the plaid jumper to her chest. Looks like it’ll fit. And it’s then that she remembers the Facebook game from last night. What did she type?
She shakes her head. Last night’s update is a blur. But she sure didnt ask to end up dressed like her geeky little sister.
She pads through to the bathroom and finds her make-up and her contact lenses are both gone. She opens up her glasses case and shakes her head at the purple Hannah Montana frames she finds inside, complete with shooting stars on the legs. They fit well but seem like a cruel and unusual punishment.
Back in her bedroom, Katelyn opens up her MacBook and clicks on the Safari icon. She needs to update her fantasy status, she needs something that doesn’t end with her going to school dressed as a third-grader.
Her bookmarks have changed. All her study links are intact but her social networking sites have gone, replaced by Jonas Brothers fan sites and NeoPets. No sign of Facebook. Katelyn types the URL manually only to get bounced out with a NannyNet warning.
Seriously?
Her mother calls from downstairs. “What’s taking so long? Are you dressed yet?”
“Almost,” Katelyn calls back, closing the laptop. She’ll have to use Sara’s once she gets to school.
“Come on, slow poke. We’re hungry!”
“I’m coming!” And grateful that she doesn”t have time to think too hard about it, Katelyn puts on the outfit; plaid jumper and blouse, white knee socks and black Mary Janes. She quickly brushes her hair and pulls it back with a matching plaid hair-band.
Standing in front of the mirror, Katelyn runs a finger along the Peter Pan collar of her crisp, white blouse and smiles faintly. It is a pretty uniform.
Then she frowns. Emily is going to get far too big a kick of Katelyn wearing the same outfit, and what about Sara, or Rob? Katelyn isn’t 100% confident that she can go to school dressed like a third-grader and still have a boyfriend, or even a best friend, by the end of the day, and she wonders how far the effect of the fantasy update has spread.
After a few seconds to mourn the disappearance of her make-up, a fresh-faced Katelyn goes downstairs and into the kitchen to find Emily sitting at the table, physically still a nine-year-old but with her hair in pigtails and a white napkin tucked over the bib of her pink overalls. She swings her legs back and forth, revealing lace frill ankle socks.
On top of everything, this is the weakest joke. Katelyn glares at her sister. “What? Not going to school today?”
Emily just smiles. “Lynnie we maked panny-cakes and I hewped!”
It”s Emily”s innocent grin, revealing brace-less teeth, that, brings home to Katelyn that this is more than some practical joke.
Is this what Katelyn had asked for – her sister dressed and acting like a backward pre-schooler? She can”t remember, but can’t tear her gaze away from Emily, who gulps juice from her cup with both hands.
“What a big girl you are,” Katelyn says finally.
Emily nods, putting her juice cup down long enough to stage-whisper, “I’m not wearing dydees today, I got pullups and they got princesses on ’em! I”m gonna make my tinkles in the potty!”
Their mother brings the pancakes over from the stove and says, “That’s right, Emmy”s going to learn how to be a very big girl. It’s a big responsibility, learning how to use the potty.”
“Panny-cakes!” Emily squeals, her focus switching immediately back to breakfast, impatiently hovering with her Dora the Explorer fork while her mother cuts up her pancakes.
“Couldn’t have made these without Emmy’s help,” their mother says with a serious nod, then gives Katelyn a wink.
“Wow,” Katelyn says to Emily. “You”re being such a big girl today.”
Emily gives another big nod. “Uh-huh, I sti-wed the batter!” And then she dives into her pancakes, quickly ending up with syrup on her mouth and cheeks.
Katelyn smiles, sure that even if Emily was aware of her regression, she wouldn”t care (Treated even more like a baby than before, of course she’s loving it) and relieved that Katelyn herself hasn’t suffered a similar mental downgrade. It’s going to be hard enough finding her way out of this seismic shift without being distracted by day-dreaming over Justin Bieber.
During breakfast, the scene almost becomes normal, Katelyn taking her mother’s compliment at how cute she looks in her uniform with aplomb (even feeling a mild sense of pride), but the new reality rubs the wrong way again when her says to Katelyn, “I thought we’d watch a movie together tonight, just you and me. One of your favourites. How about Flicka?”
“Love to, Mom, but it’s a Tuesday, I’ll be at Carlotta’s.” She pulls at the sleeves of her blouse self-consciously. “Sounds like something Emily would enjoy, though.”
Katelyn’s mother reacts with a puzzled frown. “The Italian place? Why would you be…”
Katelyn sighs. She wants to feel her mother’s forehead, to check for a fever, for evidence of a brain-injury. She says, “I wait tables, Mom…I’ve been doing that forever. I’m saving for Keene, remember?”
Her mother bites her lip, and then bursts out laughing. And that must be it, a grand practical joke that Katelyn never would have guessed her mother capable of.
She’s about to ask where she found High School Musical pajamas in adult size, and more seriously how they got Emily’s braces off over-night, when her mother says, “What a little actress you are!” and pats Katelyn on the head.
“You know you don’t need a job, your daddy will give you all the help you need for college. You need to concentrate on your classes and besides, I don”t think you”re quite ready to start work yet. You’re still so young.” She cleans Emily’s mouth and hands with a Wet-Wipe.
Katelyn blinks. The news about the money is welcome. No more waiting tables. Katelyn only needs a few seconds to decide she can put up with this turn of events, although she’ll explode if her mother attempts a similar clean-up job on her. “Sure. I’m all about the studying.”
Her mother glances at the clock. “Don’t want to miss your bus, sweetie.”
Bus? Katelyn takes a moment to mourn the loss of her driving privileges, and then helps clear breakfast dishes away.
Her mother hands her a Hannah Montana lunchbox and Katelyn just smiles. “Thanks. Hey Mom, have you seen my cell?” She wants to check if there”s been a further avalanche of texts from Rob before she gets to school.
But she gets another of those indulgent laughs in response. “Very funny,” her mother says. “Maybe next year, sweetie.”
Katelyn opens her mouth to argue, but then just sighs. She has to run to catch her bus.
* * *
No howls of disgust or hyenas of hilarity when Katelyn arrives at Alvirne High. Her friends greet her without even a blink at her outfit, and after a while Katelyn”s self-consciousness fades.
During the morning, Katelyn regrets not featuring easier classes as part of her fantasy status update. Normally English Lit is her favorite but today it feels over-complicated. Too much irony and not enough story. Katelyn is relieved when the lunchtime bell sounds and she goes with her friends to eat lunch outside.
Katelyn takes a bite of the inevitable PB&J sandwich her mother had provided and says to Sara, “Is my outfit okay?”
Sara, who is wearing enough mascara for the both of them along with the fading Goth influences of a Sisters of Mercy t-shirt and black jeans, smiles. “You always look adorable, Lynnie. Sometimes I wish my mom picked out my clothes, and then I wouldn’t get so angsty every morning….Hi gorgeous!”
They’re interrupted by the arrival of Rob. Katelyn smiles as he sits down beside her, but the hello kiss that yesterday belonged to her goes to Sara instead.
Katelyn opens her mouth to protest, but when Rob squeezes Sara’s hand and takes one of her chips, Katelyn realises another piece of the new reality; she’s lost her boyfriend.
“Hey squirt,” Rob says to Katelyn with a smile.
“Hi,” Katelyn says, blushing. He looks older than yesterday, or at least more mature.
Rob flashes a smile. “Cool kicks,” he says, pointing at Katelyn’s patent leather shoes.
“Thanks,” Katelyn says, blushing at the compliment, and is confused when Sara punches Rob on the arm. “Don’t be a jerk. You know her mom’s super-protective.”
Rob holds his hands up. “I didn’t mean anything. They’re nice shoes, very…shiny. Anyway, been thinking about you all morning,” Rob says softly to Sara, and then whispers something else.
Sara laughs, and then glances in Katelyn’s direction. “Hey,” she says to Rob, “Behave.”
Rob rolls his eyes. “Sure.”
The words “I’m not a kid,” are primed to come out of Katelyn”s mouth, but she realises that kid or not, she doesn’t want to hear their relationship chatter.
She might have wanted some space; she didn’t want to lose her boyfriend completely. Katelyn makes a sensational effort to not cry, and after a deep breath, she calmly asks to borrow Sara’s laptop. No NannyNet on this one, but it doesn’t take long before she lets out a cry of frustration.
“What’s wrong Lynnie?”
Katelyn juts her chin at the laptop screen. “It’s the right password but the stupid thing won’t let me in.” She turns the laptop around for Sara to see, and Sara shakes her head.
“Hey. We all know your mom won”t let you join Facebook. It”s no biggie.”
“I”m eighteen!” Katelyn whines.
But Rob just nods. “All kinds of creeps on the Net, kiddo, your mom’s right to try and protect you.”
Sara smiles at Rob, who looks as though as though butter wouldn’t melt.
Indignant, Katelyn is ready to inform Sara about the things Rob has enjoyed on the Internet infinitely more creepy than anything Facebook can throw up, when Sara says, “And besides, you’ve got that SparkleSpace membership, right? All kinds of fun on there. Just the thing for Hannah Montana fans.”
Katelyn can’t argue with that, considering her glasses and the smiling face on the side of her lunchbox. She just nods and smiles back. But she has a much bigger question on her mind; am I stuck like this?
* * *
After an afternoon of AP Psych and then Spanish, Katelyn gets home and slumps on the couch. She checks TiVo to find that the season passes for Glee and Entourage have been replaced with Bindi the Jungle Girl and Kenny the Shark.
She laughs out loud when she switches to live TV; the Disney Channel blinks on and Miley Cyrus is in the midst of learning another anodyne life-lesson. But the show isn’t 100% lame; it’s actually a welcome break after a uniquely stressful day and Katelyn feels a burn of annoyance when her mother arrives home with Emily and asks Katelyn to help prepare dinner.
“I”m watching TV,” Katelyn says. “You never made Emily help, you never…” She trails off.
Her mother She gestures for the clicker, and then turns off the TV. “Sure, why not? You think I should have Emily chop the veggies? You think I should give her a big, sharp knife to play with?” She lowers her voice when Emmy scampers into the living room, dives onto the couch and shouts, “I”m dwy! I used the potty all day! You can see!”
Katelyn declines the invitation to check her sister’s underwear for proof and encourages her upstairs to spread the good news to her dolls.
When Emily raced to her bedroom, their mother goes on, “Emmy does help, in age-appropriate ways. And I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to help around the house, young lady. You’ve got plenty of time to watch TV.”
She sniffs disdainfully at the screen. “And I didn’t buy those Discovery Kids passes just so you could watch Hannah Montana.”
“I’ve got homework to do,” Katelyn whines. But she acquiesces and helps prepare the vegetables.
Standing at the kitchen counter, listening to Emily bouncing around in the living room as she watches Hi-5, Katelyn is only slightly surprised that this wonderful new reality has resulted in her spending her evening doing something even more menial than waiting tables. And she doubts at the end of this chore that her mother will give her a tip.
“I”ve got so much homework tonight, Mom,” Katelyn says, as she sets the table for dinner. “I have a Spanish translation and ten chapters of Rosencrantz to read for tomorrow. I don’t think I”ll have time for Flicka.”
Her mother takes the news just fine. “That”s okay.”
“It”s just, you seemed set on a movie night with me?”
“Absolutely,” her mother says, “but Emmy managed a whole day without having an accident, so I promised she’d get to pick the after-dinner activity.”
“But you said…”
“Please don’t be a grouch, Lynnie. You already said you’re busy. And this is a big day for your sister.” She stops stirring the sauce long enough to lean toward Katelyn and whisper, as if sharing a wonderful secret, “She’s such a smart little girl, I think she might be super-gifted.”
Because she managed not to piss her pants?
Katelyn rolls her eyes, then goes through to the living room to bring her sister through for dinner.
* * *
Katelyn sits at her bedroom desk, studying finished and a headache just beginning. Normally she’d open Messenger or Facebook to touch base with Sara, or text something salacious to Rob.
None of these options are on the table.
She remembers her lunchtime conversation and, desperate for some interaction, clicks on the SparkleSpace link. Before she has the chance to post some libellous comments about the Jonas Brothers, she notices the glowing pink status bar.
What’s on your mind?
Katelyn rubs her hands. The game has followed her to the new reality.
She grins, typing in the glowing box, and then shuts the laptop with a satisfying click. Tomorrow will be a much better day.
Chapter 3
SparkleSpace update:
Katelyn doesn’t have any homework to do, her boyfriend remembers she’s a hottie and her sister is not going on and on about her dumb pullups.
7 hours ago • Comment • Like
When Katelyn wakes up to find herself wearing Dora the Explorer pajamas, she knows something is wrong. Not so much with the pajamas themselves, which make her smile, but the fact that she can’t interpret the Spanish words on the front.
Las Mariposas!
Katelyn frowns. Eight years of Spanish and she can’t seem to remember anything but a handful of words.
She feels like the time she tried the allergy medication that left her feeling groggy, as though she was thinking in slow motion.
How is she going to get through Spanish class if she can’t even translate the words on her Dora jammies?
She finds her glasses – Dora the Explorer as well, of course – and looks around the room; at least the stupid High School Musical bed linen has gone, replaced by far prettier Disney Princess sheets. There are unicorns and rainbows decorating her walls, and she grabs hold of the fuzzy brown teddy bear on her bed. “Good mornin’“, she says brightly to the bear, then giggles.
She looks at herself in the mirror. She’s still adult-sized, but she shakes her head. Is there something wrong with her thoughts.
Sparkle-Space. Katelyn should check the website, remind herself of her fantasy status. But her MacBook is missing, along with her school books; just a shelf of bedtime stories and sticker books.
Her mother comes into her room and doesn’t seem surprised to find Katelyn out of bed. “There’s my early-bird!” She gives her a hug and a kiss that Katelyn hasn’t received since she was a little girl.
Her mother asks, “Are you going to try your big-girl pants today?”
Katelyn’s eyes go wide. Did her mother really thing she needed potty-training. She shakes her head. “Mommy, I don’t-”
Mommy?
Katelyn sighs. “Uh-huh.”
“Good girl.” Her mother pulls off her pajamas and helps her step into the Disney Princess pull-ups. Katelyn smiles faintly at the design. They match her bedspread.
Her mother opens her closet. “So what are you going to wear to school today?”
Katelyn breathes a sigh of relief. At least school was still intact. She looks at the outfits and gasps at the pink fairy princess dress at the end of the rail. Without knowing where the words came from, she blurts “I wanna be a princess, Mommy.”
Her mother shakes her head. “That’s not for school, sweetie, that’s for play-time.”
Katelyn frowns. “I’m a big girl, I wanna choose.”
“You are a big girl, that’s right. That”s why I’m going to let you choose between the yellow dress or your pink jumper.”
Katelyn puts a finger in her mouth and her frown deepens. It didn’t seem like a fair choice.
“After all,” her mother says smoothly, “Only big girls get to choose. Little babies like Emmy just get dressed in what their mommies want them to wear, don’t they.”
Katelyn nods, her finger still in her mouth.
“So. Yellow or pink?”
Katelyn releases her finger long enough to point at the pink jumper.
Her mother nods approvingly. “Good girl.” She quickly dresses Katelyn in a white turtleneck and the jumper, adding white frilly ankle socks and pink sneakers. She arranges Katelyn’s hair into pigtails and then stands her in front of the mirror.
“You look adorable.”
Katelyn smiles at her reflection.
“Now, if you’re a big girl at school today and manage to keep your pull-ups dry, you can wear your fairy outfit at home tonight, okay?”
Katelyn nods enthusiastically. “Okay, Mommy.” Then she blinks.
Little babies like Emmy?
* * *
Katelyn enjoys helping to prepare breakfast.
It’s her job to take two slices of bread and put them in the toaster. Her mother takes the toast out when it’s done and Katelyn spreads jelly on it. She thinks back to yesterday, when Emily had been so excited about stirring pancake batter, and grins.
That wasn’t a real job, just something to make the stupid brat think she was helping; not a real, important task like toasting bread.
Katelyn stifles a laugh as she looks over at Emily, who is sitting in a over-sized high-chair and wearing yellow footed pajamas, chasing bits of buttered toast around with her fingers. Emily won’t be showing off her potty training skills any time soon.
It’s the best breakfast Katelyn has enjoyed in a long time, and even if she does feel a little slow, it doesn’t seem to matter too much.
Emily is given a sippy-cup of juice, while Katelyn has a big-girl glass. She holds it with both hands, just to be on the safe side, but she doesn’t spill a drop.
After they finish breakfast, Katelyn’s mother wipes Emily’s jelly-stained face with a cloth, and then cleans Katelyn’s face as well, which is silly because Katelyn’s definitely not a messy eater, but she shrugs it off, glad at least to have the lion’s share of the conversation with her mother.
Emily can hardly say more than a couple of words and Katelyn is confident she’s picked a much better status update this time. She looks down at her jumper and smiles; not as good as a fairy dress, but she still looks very pretty.
Before they leave for school, Katelyn sits on the special pink potty-chair in the bathroom. At first she thinks she doesn’t have to go, but then, there it is, a tinkling sound that makes her mother clap her hands, and as Katelyn sits there, 18 years old and sitting on her potty-chair, she grins, feeling like such a big girl compared to silly Emmy stuck in her baby diapers.
* * *
Katelyn’s mother drives her to Alvirne High, Emily sitting beside her in a over-sized baby-seat, grizzling at first but entertained when Katelyn sings along to the CD her mother plays; “the wheels on the bus”. It’s a silly song but Katelyn sing along enthusiastically.
“What a good job you’re doing!” her mother says, and Katelyn blushes with pride. It feels silly to sing a nursery song like a real three-year-old, but she’s prepared to do such things if it means Emmy will stop being such a grump.
When she gets to her first class, Katelyn opens her Hello Kitty backpack to find she doesn’t have any textbooks. The only things inside are stickers and coloring books and crayons.
She sits at her desk, glad that Sara once again takes her rather childish outfit in her stride, but how is Katelyn going to do her class work?
Fake it ‘til you make it. But she remembers how the day had begun, and how is she going to manage a Spanish class when she can’t even translate the words on a little girl’s pajamas.
And even this problem seems like nothing compared to when Sara leans over and whispers, “You still dry, Lynnie?”
Katelyn stammers, “Sh…sh…sure I am.”
Sara smiles. “It’s okay, your mommy told me you’re wearing big-girl panties today. You let me know if you need to go potty, “kay? We don’t want any accidents.”
“Uh-huh,” Katelyn says. “Thanks.” Although she has no intention of having an “accident”.
Class begins, confirming Katelyn’s fear regarding how much Spanish she’s forgotten since yesterday. Where did it all go? She racks her brain for words and phrases, and can only come up with lo hicimosand cuidado, and she’s not entirely certain what either of those mean or even where she heard them.
She looks around nervously, afraid the teacher, who doesn’t seem to speak a word of English, will call on her to contribute. But the teacher simply takes a Dora coloring book and the crayons out of Katelyn’s backpack and pats her on the head. So Katelyn gets to work, her classmates continuing with the lesson around her.
Half-way through class, Katelyn feels a pressure on her bladder. How is she going to ask that in Spanish?
Reflexively she puts her hand up to ask permission. The teacher approaches Katelyn’s desk, takes a look at the colored pages, and says in perfect English, “What a pretty picture! You’re being such a good girl.”
Katelyn is so relieved to be talked to in English that she nods happily, and then says, “I have to use the potty.”
She blushes at using such a juvenile term but no one laughs, and the teacher turns to Sara. You can take Lynnie to the bathroom, yes?”
Sara nods.
The teacher says to Katelyn, “That”s a good girl, keeping your pull-ups dry like a big girl.”
Katelyn lets Sara lead her out of the classroom, wondering if everyone in the whole school knows about her training pants.
* * *
It’s raining at lunchtime so they have their meal in the cafeteria, with Sara sitting beside Katelyn and insisting on cutting up her food, and then folding a napkin over the front of her jumper like a bib.
“I’m not a baby,” Katelyn whines.
“Just in case,” Sara says brightly. “We don’t want any sauce on your pretty dress.”
Katelyn nods, mollified, and proceeds to tell Sara about the fairy princess outfit that”s waiting in her closet at home. They spend a lot of time talking about fairies and princesses, until Rob joins their table and gives Katelyn a funny look.
“Hey baby,” he says to Sara, leaning across the table and kissing her lightly on the cheek, and then looks back at Katelyn.
“Hey Lynnie,” he says, a slight catch in his throat. “Your hair looks really pretty today.”
Katelyn touches her pigtails self-consciously. What does a silly boy like Rob want to talk about hair for?
“And your dress…” Rob continues. “Pink is definitely your color. You look…” He trails off.
Sara waves a hand in front of Rob”s face. “Are you for real? What”s the matter with you?”
Rob shakes his head. “Sorry…Lynnie just looks really…”
Katelyn takes a drink from her apple juice-box. She wishes Rob would leave. How can they talk more about fairies and princesses if there’s a stupid boy at their table?
Sara gives Rob a look of disgust. “The last thing you want to be doing is making fun of Lynnie.”
Rob shakes his head again. “I’m not making fun of her. She’s beautiful.” There”s a thump under the table. “Ow! I’m being for real.”
Sarah crosses her arms. “She’s seriously off-limits. Okay?”
Rob gets to his feet, rubs his shin, and walks off with his lunch tray. He steals one last glance at Katelyn, another funny look that she can’t interpret.
But Katelyn doesn’t have more than a second to dwell on that, as she looks down in shock to find Sara lifting up the skirt of her jumper.
“Hey!”
Sara just smiles. “Just checking you’re still nice and dry, sweetie.” A pause, then, “Oopsie. Looks like you’ve had a little accident, darlin”“.
Katelyn shakes her head. “Nuh-uh! I’m a big girl!” She looks down and is horrified to see the wet patch on her training pants. “But…but…I wanna be a pwincess!” Katelyn blubbers, tears spilling down her cheeks as she thinks of the fairy outfit that she won”t be allowed to wear.
Sara takes Katelyn through to the bathroom and cleans her up with baby-wipes. “There, no problem, I came prepared. It’s okay to make mistakes, Lynnie. You’ll get there in the end.”
“But I wanna be a fairy,” Katelyn sniffs.
Sara smiles. “You can still pretend, Lynnie. And I’m sure you’ll get to wear your special dress another day.” She checks her bag. “No training pants, you’ll need to wear a diaper until you get home.”
Katelyn backs away, ready to stamp her foot, ready to make a scene. “No dydees! I’m notta baby!”
Sara takes Katelyn by the hand. “That”s right, you’re not a baby. It’s okay, you wore a diaper yesterday remember? No one will think it’s strange. No one got potty-trained all in one day.”
Katelyn nods, and lets Sara diaper her while she thinks about yesterday. But there”s a disconnect between what Sara said and Katelyn’s memories, something struggling to break through her muddled brain, and as Sara pulls Katelyn’s dress back down and fixes her socks, Katelyn bursts out, “I din”t wear dydees before Sara! I “member now…I played a game and wanted to be…I had too much work…I wanted a cay…vacay-shun…”
Despite the look of bemusement on Sara”s face, Katelyn knows she’s onto something. “There”s a game on the compooter…I need to play the game again, Sara.”
Sara glances at her watch. “We”re going to be late for Psych. I tell you what, we”ll find your game after school and you can play it then.”
Katelyn shakes her head. “But I forgot it! I need to play it now!” And then, as more memories trickle through, she whispers, “Sara. I need your help. This isn”t real.”
“Class first,” Sara says firmly. Then, “I bet your mommy can help you find the game at home.”
That”s possible. It was on a computer at home, Katelyn remembers that, and only her mother owned a computer. Although maybe that isn”t actually true either, maybe…
“You’ll be like Dora the Explorer,” says Sarah brightly, breaking Katelyn’s concentration.
“Huh?”
“You know, looking for something you lost. And you’ve got you’re Dora glasses, I bet you’ll be extra good at finding it. Hey, you’ve even got frilly ankle socks like Dora!”
Katelyn looks at herself in the bathroom mirror, at her pigtails and Dora the Explorer glasses, the turtleneck and jumper that would look just right on a kindergartener, the frilly ankle socks and crinkly diaper.
Such a silly outfit, but it is fun to be like Dora.
Of course she”ll find the game, and Mommy will be able to help her.
* * *
Back home, Katelyn has forgotten about the lost computer game, feeling thoroughly ashamed as her mother takes off her wet diaper and puts her back into training pants.
“I really thought you were ready to be a big girl,” her mother says. “You’re a little old to be still wearing diapers during the day.”
Katelyn, lying on her back, says hopefully, “Mommy can I still be a pwincess?”
Her mother shakes her head. “Sorry sweetheart, we had a deal.”
“But I only had one acki-dent. I bet Emmy’s wet her diaper a buncha times.”
“Emily’s just a baby,” says her mother, pulling clean training pants up Katelyn’s legs. “The day you stay dry all through school is the day you get to play fairy princess in your special dress.”
Katelyn’s mother helps her back to her feet. “Why don’t you play with your sister until it’s time for dinner?”
Katelyn looks over at Emily who is sitting on a blanket and playing quietly with some building blocks. “I don’t wanna play with baby toys,” she says dismissively. She looks around for the TV remote. “I wanna watch Dora.”
Her mother shakes her head. “I don’t want that TV on all the time, it”ll rot your brains. Look at Emmy, she’s perfectly happy playing with her toys. Why can’t you be more like her?”
Katelyn shoots her mother a look of disdain. “Emmy’s just a baby.”
“You’re behaving more like a baby than Emily is, young lady.” Her mother”s tone has turned stern.
Katelyn fumes. How is that Emmy, sitting there with drool running down her chin, banging blocks together, can still make her look bad?
“I’m a big girl!” Katelyn cries. And she runs upstairs to her bedroom.
* * *
Katelyn lies on her bed, the enlarged face of Dora the Explorer smiling up at her from the comforter. She’s able to think more clearly, more coolly, after a good cry. There was a game…Katelyn wishes she had a computer in her room.
She”ll have to ask her mother about it, although right now she doesn’t want to have to ask her mother for anything.
Katelyn gets off the bed and opens the closet. She touches the skirt of the fairy princess dress.
It’s tantalizing. She should put it on, right now, with her mother too busy downstairs to know anything about it. But the thought of being discovered in such a naughty act, it’s too much.
Besides, Katelyn wants to be a good girl. She wants her mother to smile at her like she did this morning, like she does all the time with Emily. And she certainly doesn’t want another day like she just had at school, the only girl in class playing with crayons.
Katelyn sees a plastic wand beside the fairy outfit. She smiles. Her mother didn”t say anything about not playing with the wand.
Katelyn retrieves it with a grin. It’s topped with a sparkling star. It’s surely the loveliest thing Katelyn has ever seen.
There’s a pink button half-way down the wand that is begging to be pressed, so Katelyn does so, and is rewarded by a tinny voice saying “What”s your wish?”
Katelyn feels a sense of déjà vu wash over her. This sounds a little like the game she played before. She talks straight to the gold-coloured star at the top of the wand, holding it like a microphone.
“I wish…umm…I wish I was real smart but I din”t have to go to school…and Mommy did stuff with me allll the time and she wasn’t mad at me for having acki-dents…”
She thinks briefly but angrily about Emily, who can do no wrong in their mother”s eyes. “…And I wish I din’t have a baby sister.”
She presses the button again. “Abracadabra!” the voice proclaims. “You’re such a good fairy!”
Katelyn nods with satisfaction – of course she’s a good fairy – and then puts the wand safely back in the closet.
Chapter 4
The next morning, Katelyn wakes up to find herself thinking much more clearly.
Even better, she finds Emily in her room wearing her school clothes and smiling down at her, braces back on her teeth and the intelligence back in her eyes.
Relieved to find things are back to normal, Katelyn decides there’s no harm in being sweet to her little sister. She smiles at her and says, “You look nice today, Emmy”.
Except she doesn’t say anything like that. The words are clear in her mind but there’s a monumental blockage between her brain and her tongue, and instead all that comes out of her mouth is garbled nonsense. She blushes furiously, then tries again, but with a similar result.
“Bah-bah mee-mee,” says Katelyn, and panic turns to ice-cold fear when Emily, instead of asking what’s wrong, just giggles and replies, ““Clever Lynnie!”
Emily turns and says to her mother who has just come in, “She’s calling me “mee-mee” again, Mom.”
Their mother laughs. “Adorable.”
Emily is starts talking to her mother about the upcoming school play, and they both chat as if Katelyn isn’t even in the room.
Katelyn should protest, she should explain there are more important things up for discussion. She waves her hands at them, and it’s then that Katelyn sees the wooden bars and understands that she’s in an over-sized crib.
She lifts her head to see that she’s wearing yellow footed pajamas and has the tell-tale bulge of a night-time diaper around her waist. Even worse, it’s soaking wet.
There’s lettering on the front of her pajamas. Katelyn’s sits up and looks around the crib for her glasses so she can read it before realising with dismay that of course, she won”t own any. After all, why would a baby need glasses?
At least she has her adult mind. She concentrates on the conversation, eager to find clues to this latest reality-change. But it’s trivia, school gossip and Emily’s usual pipe-dreams, and Emily finds herself becoming distracted by the Pooh and Eeyore wallpaper, and the array of soft toys that litter her crib.
Wait…what were they saying?
“See you later, baby sis.”
Emily waves at her before bending over and planting a kiss on her forehead, then leaves for school, Katelyn experiencing a pang of jealousy at seeing her sister leave.
She’s going to miss her. A first time for everything.
Her mother smiles down at her. “Bath-time for you, sweetie-pie.”
* * *
Katelyn sits on a blanket in the living room, surrounded by baby toys. It’s like a minefield of distractions while she tries to find a way to ask her mother for help.
Katelyn’s not short of ideas. Alphabet building blocks, crayons, paints. But none of these toys are on today’s activity-schedule as far as her mother is concerned, and Katelyn’s tongue isn’t able to ask for them.
The closest thing to a communications device is the Fisher-Price cellular phone upstairs in the nursery, which when Katelyn opens up is more than willing to say “hello!” in a variety of squeaky voices, and has buttons that are large enough for Katelyn to read even without her glasses, but is definitely not up to the job of texting.
Even if she was left alone long enough with just a pen and paper, Katelyn’s far from certain her manual dexterity is good enough to scrawl out a message, given her inability to hold onto anything for very long.
And what to say? It’s reality that’s changed. Her body is adult-sized but no one around her sees it. Or rather, no one interprets her physical age as meaning anything. If she did overcome all the obstacles and write something, would her mother read it as anything other than a baby”s random scribble?
Katelyn has made Herculean efforts to control her tongue and talk to her mother, but it all comes out, just like with Emily, as the babbling of an infant.
Katelyn has learned that vocabulary doesn’t stretch further than “moh-moh” for her mother, “mee-mee” for her sister, and a handful of other infantile terms that her mother is somehow able to interpret as requests for her bottle or a toy or a newsflash concerning the state of her diaper.
And Katelyn’s mother doesn’t ask the right questions; just asks her if she’s a good girl (of course she is!) and if she likes her bath ([i]of course she does!/i]), and what’s her name? Again and again, what’s her name?
“Ka-ka,” she says, trying to wrap her tongue around her own name, shyly at first, and then, rewarded with laughter, gleefully squeals it, “Ka-ka! Ka-ka!” like a parrot, then dissolving into giggles, losing her herself in the joy of her mother’s complete attention, laughing because her mother does, not coming close to understanding the joke.
At least she’s clean. She smiles at the recent memory of the warm bath, her mother washing her from top to toe with a yellow sponge. Particularly hard to even worry about her five-word vocabulary when she’s distracted by the bath, the splashing of the water, and very especially when her splashing, instead of getting a reprimand, gets an indulgent chuckle from her mother, and the production of another bath toy, a yellow duckie, until it seems there’s more toys than water, and her mother’s playful quacks are enough to make Katelyn squeal with laughter.
Katelyn had forgotten how much fun bath-time could be, and she revels in it, only to feel abashed later on, now, sitting clean as a whistle and smelling sweetly of baby-powder, all dressed up with nowhere to go in her pink smock dress, diaper and thick white tights.
The day goes on, at turns monotonous and then exhilarating. It turns out they had somewhere to go after all; a trip to the public library for “Rhyme Time”, Katelyn sitting on the floor, mortified to be amidst a bunch of other babies and toddlers and their mothers whilst a kindly-looking older woman sits on a rocking chair and energetically reads from a big red book.
No one, child or adult, seems to see Katelyn as anything other than another baby, and the feelings of embarrassment fades after a short while, until Katelyn is hanging on every word of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, as if it was the first time she’s heard it.
And then in the space of a couple of minutes, even a children’s story becomes too much to concentrate on, and Katelyn drifts into wordless day-dream, chewing on the end of a pigtail, until her mother replaces it with a bright pink pacifier, which Katelyn tries to reject but ends up sucking on happily, forgetting why she wouldn’t want such a comforting thing in her mouth.
And later, after another diaper change, another ba-ba of diluted juice, a snack of crackers and a banana that Katelyn manages to get more in her hair than in her mouth, she’s bouncing along with everyone else as the nice old lady sings Itsy Bitsy Spider.
Katelyn feels a little intimidated at how the older children are able to do the motions, she finds that even clapping is hard, but Katelyn does her best, she wants to be a good girl, and sure enough, her mother says she’s doing wonderfully.
Back home, Katelyn recovers her focus and decides there and then in her cot that she’s going to find a way to get help.
If only her mother hadn’t closed the drapes and turn on the twinkling music before leaving the nursery, if only Katelyn’s eyelids didn’t feel so heavy after such a busy morning, and if it wasn’t for the soft blankie she can’t help rubbing against her cheek, then she’d think of something right here and now.
But as it is, the next thing she knows, it feels much later, and she is waking up with another soaking wet diaper.
* * *
Emily’s back from school, and is another source of unhelpful distractions.
Did Katelyn ever play with Emily the way she was being played with now? Way back when, in real life? Katelyn doesn’t think so. But maybe. Nine-year-old girls like babies, as a rule, and they tend to really like baby sisters.
But it’s not helpful, Emily giving the plush toy animals silly voices, giving her sister kisses and cuddles, leading Katelyn’s mind repeatedly into giggling, candy-coated thoughts, forgetting herself for minutes at a time.
During dinner, Katelyn can barely make the effort to feel ashamed of her inability to feed herself, with her mother doing most of the work, Katelyn chasing morsels around her tray with incompliant hands.
By the end, she’s glad she can’t see herself, feeling the stickiness on her face and hands, grateful for the cool wetness of the Wet-Wipe as her mother cleans her up.
Back in footed pajamas, white this time with pink hearts, a thick night-time diaper forcing her legs apart as she sits cuddling with her mother on the couch while Emily tackles her English assignment.
Saved from a brain-melting TV show, Katelyn’s mother opens not a bedtime story but a scrapbook album with a picture of Mickey Mouse on the cover.
“There’s my good girl,” her mother says, pointing to a picture of a smiling Katelyn in her over-sized stroller next to Snow-White, the photo surrounded by gold stars. “You love Disney World, don’t you sweetie.”
Katelyn can’t resist reaching out and touching the photo, safe from smudges behind a layer of plastic. She can’t read the words on the page (and whether that’s because of her eyesight of her dwindling intelligence is open to question) but she can tell that the photo is from at least four years ago.
She looks around fourteen in the picture, and in the image beside it, there’s Emily with their mother, no more than five years old and proudly sporting a pair of Mickey Mouse ears.
Two things are clear:
It’s nice, so nice, to cuddle with her mother, to hear stories about Disney princesses and splashy rides, hot dogs and fireworks, memories that seem more and more real. So nice to be safe on the couch with Mommy, as her mother combs Katelyn’s hair with her fingers and whispers sweet stories to her, threatening to send her softly but firmly to dream-land.
The second thing, just as clear, from the photos as they progress through the pages, is that Emily gets older but Katelyn stays in her stroller.
In the previous reality, the world of a few days before and all the time before that, Katelyn had never set foot Disney World.
But the magic trick, a sneaky game that arrived via Facebook, SparkleSpace and a cheap toy fairy wand, is powerful enough to change Katelyn’s history to suit the present, and as Katelyn yawns lockjaw-style, she understands with a mixture of rattling fear and coddled confusion that in this world, no matter her physical age, Katelyn will never be treated as anything but a drooling, innocent infant.
Chapter 5
Katelyn lies in her cot, hearing the faint noise of the TV from downstairs and the sound of the shower in the upstairs bathroom.
She lies on her back, eyes wide open.
The fantasy update must be here somewhere in its latest incarnation. She just has to find it.
She gets to her feet, grateful for the relative quiet, a rare moment without helpful adults and big sisters all trying to help her mind turn to infantile mush.
Concentrating hard, Katelyn clambers over the side of the crib and lands with a muffled thump on the carpet. She sits still, barely even breathing, for a few seconds, and waits for the all-clear.
Then she walks toddles unsteadily over to her closet.
Nothing like a magic wand, nothing even close. Just shelves and hangers of outfits with infantile decorations and cutesy slogans that she can’t even read anymore.
Of course, Katelyn realises, the trick, the gadget, whatever it is in this reality; it doesn’t have to be in the nursery.
She pads into the hallway, grateful that the nursery door was left ajar, not sure her hands can deal with door handles, at least not quietly.
She walks past the bathroom and towards her sister’s room, ready to ransack, ready to try anything.
She’s only distracted by the glowing night-light in the hallway for a second (or a minute) the soft yellow glow making her put her thumb in her mouth, wanting to sit down beside the pretty thing, maybe try and put it in her mouth along with her thumb, when she’s brought back to Earth by a hand on her shoulder.
“Want Mommy?”
Katelyn looks behind her to find Emily, in her High School Musical pajamas, hair damp from her shower.
“Mee-mee,” Katelyn says sadly. What was she thinking?
Not much, not enough. A needle in a haystack, the latest manifestation of the fantasy update could be anything, if it even still exists.
She meekly lets Emily lead her back to the nursery and sits down tiredly by the crib.
“Wow,” Emily says. “You’ve never done gotten out of your crib before.”
Katelyn looks around the nursery, wanting her pacifier, wanting to fall into blissful infancy.
Emily sits Indian-style opposite her. “You look sad.” She looks around the room. “How about a game before you go ni-nights.” She picks up two of the soft toys, a grey hippo and a absurdly friendly-looking tiger. “I can do a puppet-show,” she suggests.
Katelyn looks at her sister. “Baaah, mah-bah,” she says softly, her words making as much sense as they have done all day.
“Yeah, maybe not,” Emily says, putting the animals back. She reaches for the Fisher-Price cell phone, provoking a bright “hello!” when she opens up the brightly-colored handset.
“Hey,” she says, putting the phone to her ear and wiggling a theatrical eyebrow. “I think it’s for you. It’s some guy called Bieber? You wanna talk to him?” She holds out the phone but Katelyn doesn’t take it.
Katelyn wishes she really was a baby, ignorant of the cold-bladed reality and her sister’s lame attempts at raising a smile. “Bah-bla-blaaaah,” she says.
Emily shakes her head. “Sorry,” she says into phone.
“Lynnie”s not here right now.” Then, “Shoot, sis, I wish I could understand what you’re saying.”
Katelyn’s shoulders slump. “You and me both,” she whispers. “This is a nightmare.”
Emily’s eyes go wide. “What…what did you say?”
Katelyn hesitates, and then says slowly, “You understand me?”
Emily nods open-mouthed, looking as if her jaw is about to hit the floor.
Katelyn gets it. “It’s the phone.” She reaches her hands out and whispers, hoarse with need, “Give me the phone.”
Emily pulls back, shuffling back on her rear away from her sister. “How…how’re you doing this?” She looks around the nursery, as if for the hidden camera.
Katelyn sighs impatiently, the words coming easily, her thoughts clearer now that she has regained the power of speech. “It’s a…magic trick.” She waves her hands, as if ready to conjure a white rabbit.
“I’m not really a baby. I just wished for some…time off and ended up like this. The phone…” She hesitates. “Well….it grants wishes.” She sees the expression on Emily’s face, a girl who has only recently learned the true identity of Santa Claus and unlikely to believe in magic toy phones. “Well, you can understand me, so if you have an alternative explanation…”
Emily stares at Katelyn. “You’re not really a baby.”
Katelyn shakes her head. “I’m your big sister. Eighteen.”
“That’s crazy,” Emily says, breathless. “You…”
“Try the phone again,” Katelyn says. “Wish you know about what life was like before I made the first wish.”
Emily does as she’s told, and her first reaction is to burst out laughing. “You look so dumb! You’re dressed like a baby!
Seething inside with impatience, Katelyn keeps her face serene, nodding encouragingly as Emily remembers the past that had held strong as concrete until the first fantasy update.
Emily frowns. “I remember helping Mom change your diaper, and feed you, but I remember you…” Her frown deepens. “You are not a nice big sis.”
A tactical blunder, Katelyn belatedly realises, to let Emily see their previous life. “I”ll be better,” Katelyn says quickly, “I promise. I”ve learned my lesson. I’m all about being a good sister now.”
Emily doesn’t say anything.
Katelyn crawls towards her sister but just makes Emily get to her feet and stand by the nursery door, the toy phone still in her hands. Katelyn says, “Can I have my phone please, sis? Get things back to normal?”
Emily still doesn’t say a word, just looks down at Katelyn and then looks back at the phone.
“What?” Katelyn asks finally. “What’s the hold-up?”
Emily replies, her voice soft, “It’s complicated. We should tell Mom.”
“Are you serious?” Katelyn stares at her sister.
“I’m in the school play,” says Emily. “We’re doing ‘Miguel the Monkey’ and I’m going to be the lion.”
Katelyn’s clumsy hands bunch in her lap. “We can talk about that…later.” She takes a deep breath; important not to scream or shout. At least, not until she’s back to normal.
“I won’t be the lion,” Emily says, “if we put things back to how they were.”
“What?”
“I can see how things are both ways,” says Emily calmly.
“You do bad stuff when you’re the big sister. You’re just plain mean. And…” She shrugs. “And my life is better now. I’m happier. I can see how it was before and I wasn’t happy at all. And neither was Mom. Or you.”
Katelyn grits her teeth. “Here’s the 411, sis. I’m sitting here wearing a diaper. I’ll always be wearing diapers unless we fix this. I was going to college before all this happened and now I can’t even use a toilet or hold a damn crayon properly. There’s no plan B, here.”
Katelyn’s voice turns into a growl. “Do you really not get it? Are you really that moronic?”
She looks up at Emily, who has a pinched expression on her face. “Well?” Katelyn asks ferociously, all out of sisterly patience.
Emily gives a thin smile. “You always thought I’m just a dumb kid who doesn’t know anything. But I tell you what, if I had to choose between a big sister and a baby one?”
Katelyn shakes her head violently. “You don’t get to choose! Give me the frickin’ phone!”
Emily opens the nursery door.
“Where are you going?”
Emily puts a finger to her lips. “Excuse me. I have to make a phone call.” And with that, she leaves the nursery, closing the door behind her.
She has to catch Emily. But despite her born-again speaking ability, her motor skills are just as rudimentary as they’ve been since she woke up this morning.
Katelyn gets to her knees, but she can’t quite remember how to get to a standing position. She’s stuck on her hands and knees, looking like the baby she’s dressed as, and frustration floods through her.
“”Hello!”“ The tinny phone voice calls out from the hallway. Emily has opened the toy phone.
Dammit. Fine, she”ll crawl out of here.
She makes her way to the door, then grabs hold of the door handle and pulls herself to a standing position.
Quick, before she does something stupid.
Katelyn almost falls back, then steadies herself, and hears Emily’s murmured voice in the hallway.
Katelyn looks down at her hand, ready to open the door, and then looks down at her arm, as a wave of strange thoughts and feelings sweep through her.
The sleeves of her pajamas are so fuzzy. Katelyn looks at the shapes decorating the material. Hearts. She knows hearts stand for love, and she thinks of her mother, who has been taking such good care of her today.
Then she remembers the door handle. Why is she wasting time thinking about her dumb pajamas? She’s supposed to be going after Emily, stopping her from doing something bad.
But there’s another distraction, a funny tickling, trickling sensation between her legs, as she wets her diaper. Funny, but despite trying her best, she can’t quite remember how to stop. But the warm dampness doesn’t feel so bad. She squeezes her thighs together and smiles faintly.
Katelyn shakes her head, trying to clear the silly distractions. She looks at the door-handle. How does it work again?
Katelyn lets go of the handle to get a better view and it’s enough to unbalance her, and she falls backwards onto her diapered bottom.
The impact brings tears to her eyes, and she wants so much to cry out for her mother, for a kiss and a cuddle that will make everything better. But she’s distracted once more, this time by her reflection courtesy of the cloud-shaped mirror on the door.
Katelyn studies her reflection curiously, and says quietly, “Bah-bah.” She smiles shyly at herself, twirling her hair between her fingers. She’s surprised by the saliva dribbling down her chin, and touches her mouth. Drool is so icky, making her chin all slippery-looking, dripping into the lap of her jammies.
She giggles. So silly. Such a silly big baby.
Then Katelyn remembers; she had wanted to go somewhere.
She looks around and sees her crib, full of toys. That must be where she wants to go. Katelyn manages to get back onto all fours and starts crawling towards the crib.
The movement of her hips makes her diaper squelch, provoking a smell that causes Katelyn at first to wrinkle her nose in distaste but then accept quite happily. She knows her diaper is more than just wet, but her mommy will take care of all that.
Still on her hands and knees, Katelyn looks down along her front, her body encased in fuzzy white material, like a fluffy bunny, even her feet.
A moment of dizziness and she rolls sideways onto her back, provoking a giggle as she looks down at her fuzzy white feet.
She wriggles her toes, sees them ripple under the material, and it makes her giggle again, imagining her feet hiding from her. She’d like to take the jammies off so she can see her wriggling toes. There’s a song her mommy sings to her, something about toes…she puts her fingers in her mouth, trying to remember the song…
The nursery door opens and Emily stands there, one of Katelyn’s toys held tightly in her hand. “All better now?”
“Mee-mee!” Katelyn squeals, drums her heels on the ground happily, sucking on her fingers and, drool continuing to dribble out of her mouth and onto the chest of her pajamas as she lifts her head up and gazes adoringly at her big sister.
Emily looks down at the infantile expression on her sister’s face and nods, satisfied. “That’s a good baby.”