Drowsily awakening from his slumber, Carlton became cognizant that his body was that of a five-year-old boy rather than a Starfleet officer–and that his wife-turned-guardian’s hands were gripping his wrists tightly.
“Duh-uhh-do whuh-ut, Rebecca…uhhh, Mommy?” He also realized that the annoyingly-sharp itching sensation was still centered on his boyish behind, and that he had rolled onto his stomach while reaching back to scratch his prickling-hot, flannel-covered fanny.
“Don’t try to scratch your buns, even though they’re itching intensely,” Rebecca told her recently-rejuved new ward. “The nanolotion’s just been activated, and the quick-healing chemistry produces a strong itching effect–but your bottom’s too sore for you to scratch it without risking damage to your skin.”