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Unfair-Chapter 121: Preparation Anxiety
🕑 Added 2023-03-14 04:28:17 +0000 UTCChapter 121: Preparation Anxiety
Janet dropped a bombshell on me Saturday morning.
We were on the nursery floor, on our hands and knees. The toys and stuffies had been arranged in a circle for gladiatorial combat. Lion, of course, was the undefeated champion, but Janet was puppeting the challengers. So maybe it was more like pro-wrestling. Should I give Lion a finishing move?
Janet’s phone pinged. “Hm?” On all fours, she dropped the latest victim to Lion’s rage down on the carpet and picked her phone up from the floor. She stared at the phone, unblinking. Her face was a mask, revealing nothing. Yet the mask itself was a hint. Something was wrong.
She typed something in her phone, and set it back down. A tiny twitch hinted at something stressful.
Janet?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
Janet sighed and adjusted herself so that she was sitting down, legs crossed. “Let’s talk.”
“What kind of talk?”
She patted her knee. “Come sit?”
It sounded almost pathetic. Had it been a demand, I would have refused. I put Lion down, waddled over to Janet, and she pulled me into the nest of her lap. The folds of her skirt engulfed me and blanketed me. “What’s up?”
“Momm-…” she stopped and corrected. “I just got a text. We’re going to be having guests for Unification on Thursday.”
My blood ran cold. The ratio of Little Amazon was about to shift dramatically against me. “Okaaaaaay…?” I said. “Who?”
“You’re…gonna get to meet your Nana and Pop Pop.” I practically felt her wince as soon as she said it.
Fuck. “I’m meeting your parents?” I asked.
“They’ll like it better if you call them ‘Nana’ and ‘Pop Pop’,” Janet said. “But yes. They are my parents.”
Goddamn it. More Amazons. Older ones too, filled with even more stupid baby crazy bullshit and prejudices. They’d be around Brollish’s age with Forrest and Ambrose’s opinions, but with Janet’s genes. To think I’d once quietly dreaded visiting the Brauns.
“When are they coming?” My body was tense. I was staring straight ahead.
“We’re picking them up from the airport this Wednesday.” Her hands were down on my shoulders, ready to react to anything.
“When are they leaving?”
“Clark!” she gasped, like I”d just insulted them.
“Please answer the question, Janet.”
“We’re giving them a ride back Friday afternoon.”
Three days trapped with two strange Amazons. Janet still with the tablet over my head to ensure my good behavior. I’d have to call her ‘Mommy’. Listen to loud, stupid, backwards opinions about Littles. Probably deal with the same kind of bullshit I’d had to put up with from Janet those first few days, only coming from two giants in their sixties or seventies. So-called grandparents loved to spoil their so-called grandchildren; and I would be expected to play the part.
“Is there a reason you didn’t tell me before now?” I asked, struggling to control my emotions.
“Besides that I knew you’d act like this…?” Janet said.
I tried to climb out of her lap, but she held me firm. I scowled. “That’s not fair, Janet! I have a right to be upset at not being told something.” I resisted growling. “Let. Go. Please.” She did. I climbed out and turned around to look at her, crossing my arms defiantly over my chest and just glaring at her.
She had the courtesy not to giggle or mock me. It was impossible to look imposing wearing what I was. “I would have told you sooner, but the plans just now solidified. We’d been going back and forth on who would visit who. I didn’t think you were ready to sit through a whole plane ride.” Goddamn right she wasn’t.
“I thought you and Beouf promised not to pull any more of this surprise B.S. on me with decisions!” My blood pressure was rising and I was turning pink from anger. I was this close to having a tantrum at the thought.
Part of me didn’t understand why my emotions were spiking. What were two more Amazons to deal with in the big scheme of things? They’d raised Janet too. Janet was a typical Amazon, but I’d already met so much worse. They couldn’t be that bad.. They couldn’t be that bad as far as giants went. Maybe it was milk withdrawal.
“This isn’t a decision,” Janet said softly. “It’s just something that’s happening. And I told you as soon as I knew. Just now.”
“I’m not calling them Nana and Pop Pop.” I growled.
Janet remained carefully placid. “I’m sure we can figure out something else for you to call them.” She blinked and added, “Besides their first names.”
Something clicked. So we were negotiating? “I’m not going to do stupid tricks, or sing any Little Voices songs,” I said, firmly.
“Of course not,” Janet replied. “I’m not going to make you.”
“I’m not going to pretend I don’t know stuff or that I’m stupid.”
“Why would they…?” Janet twitched and shook her head. “Nevermind. Fine. That’s fine.’
“I’m not dressing up in any fancy clothes.” I tacked on. “I don’t want to be a turkey or whatever. And I don’t want to be in just my diaper.”
“They might be brining gi-”
“I’m not going to breastfeed!”
Janet’s hands raised up to her breasts. That one had hurt. “I didn’t say you would.”
“Good,” I said. “Good.”
A pained expression came across her. “Can you at least try to be good while they’re here? And not so much like-?”
My eyes widened and my nostrils flared. “Like myself?!” I cut her off.
“Mark,” Janet said. “Like you were with Mark.”
Oh. It seems the legacy of Horsey McDoucheface continued to trouble me. “Mark was an asshole!”
Janet remained calm. “Mark was a nice man who wanted to impress us. You were very rude to him and made him feel terrible for wanting to be a Daddy.”
Good. Maybe there was one less Amazon Daddy out there. “Is this why they haven’t been around until now? No phone calls or anything?”
The pause grew and grew and grew. Janet punctured it with “Kinda.”
I took a seat on the carpet and snatched Lion back up. I sat him between my legs so that I’d feel the least vulnerable. “Hmmph.”
“Clark…” she said.
“Janet…” I snipped back.
She closed her eyes and filled her lungs, her breasts heaving slowly. “You’re right. I didn’t introduce you to my parents because they live a ways away. That and I wanted to make sure you were fully adjusted before they met you.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” I huffed.
“You are such a sweet, clever, and thoughtful person when you’re not thinking about it, Clark,” she said, halfway ignoring me. “I’m really happy that I get to be your Mommy. Thank you.”
“Well I…” I had no answer to that.
“You can also be a real jerk when you put your mind to it,” she rolled right on over my hesitation. “You’re very smart and know how to hurt people much bigger than you when you put your mind to it. I just don’t want you to do that to our fam-.”
“Our family?” I interrupted, incredulous. “Our-?”
“I wasn’t done talking.” She countered, her eyes simmering. I closed my mouth and let her finish. “I’m not asking that you pretend to be someone you’re not. You don’t have to play along with anything, I just don’t want you to make a scene. I’m just asking you to be yourself around them.”
Be myself? My mouth played with the words, hemming and hawing, before my throat gave voice to it. “You and I have very different opinions on what that means.”
“Clark,” she moaned. “I’m just saying: Please just don’t deliberately try to see everything they say and do as some kind of attack. If my mom says you’re cute, just take it as the compliment it’s meant to be. If my dad wants to tell a dumb joke or a story, just listen. If they say something about your diaper, take it as a personal affront. That’s all I’m asking.”
“What if they say something really messed up?” I asked. “Like talk about like I’m some kind of failure? Like how I must be soooo much happier now that I’m not a teacher or something?! Cause I’m not.”
“Then I will correct them.” Janet said immediately. “Your feelings matter, too, and I will warn them ahead of time that there are certain things they are not to talk about. I just want you to meet them. Unification is no time for fighting.”
“You clearly have a different concept of Unification than I do.” It was meant to be a joke.
“Clark,” she whined. “Please. For me. I’ve told them all about you, and I know you’ll love them both if you just give them a chance.”
An evil smirk came to me. “Or I could just give them the Mark treatment.”
Janet brushed some hair out of her face. “They’re not going away that easy,” she chuckled softly. “You and I are stuck with them.”
No, she was stuck with them. “So that means I’ll have to try harder.”
“Clark…”
“Fine,” I grunted. “I’m still not calling them Nana and Pop Pop.”
“We’ll find something you’re comfortable calling them.” She got her own evil grin. “I think it’d be cute to let their grandbaby name them, anyway.”
“And they’re not going to change my diaper,” I demanded.
“Pffft,” Janet waved my demand away with a flick of her hand. “My dad’s never changed a diaper in his life. I’ll keep my mom busy with the cooking.” She looked around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. “I need to clean this place.”
“Good,” I said. “She probably wouldn’t know how to. She’d end up sticking me with safety pins or whatever. Be wondering where you keep the plastic pants.”
That got a genuine laugh out of her. “They’re not that old, silly!”
Dragging Lion behind me, I shifted to all fours and crawled back towards her lap. “They’re not?” I teased. “No stories of the good old days and having to wash diapers by hand? No,” I pitched my voice into a gravelly falsetto reminiscent of a cartoon witch and an old timey prospector, “In my daaaaay, all you had to do to know a house had Littles in it was to take a gander over at the clothesline and see all the diapers drying in the sun. Couldn’t throw ‘em away neither. Had to carry the poop around with ya in a diaper bag till ya got home. None of ‘em fancy cartoons neither. Ya just had to spank the naughty out of ‘em. And didn’t need any of those fancy cartoons neither. All we needed back then was sock puppets! And if they didn’t like ‘em, you spanked the naughty out of ‘em!”
I was back in her lap by the end of my rambling.
“How old do you think they are?!” Janet giggled. “I’m two years younger than you.”
“
Oh, now you admit it!” I replied.
“My parents never talked about Adopting. My mom probably doesn’t even know how to fold a cloth diaper.”
“Is she that old that she’s forgotten?!” My eyes lit up and I tilted my head back to look at her. “Wait. Are they in diapers?!”
Janet laughed, but didn’t say anything. Not until she gave me a kiss on the forehead. “I love you.”
And I almost said. “I love you, too.” Almost…
**********************************************************************************************
With Janet’s folks coming, the house transformed over the next couple of days. She cleaned like a woman possessed. First, she washed everything. Laundry was done and caught up with. Dirty clothes went directly into the washing machine with no hampers as an intermediary step. Same for the dishes and the sink.
The second any given machine stopped, there Janet was emptying it out, changing it over, folding, hanging, and stacking. Counters were wiped down the second a dish left the surface, whether or not there was any stain or residue and the last thing I heard each night was the vacuum running. The only things that were allowed to fill up before disposal were the garbage cans and the diaper pail.
Speaking of diaper pail..
“Janet,” I said from my spot on the changing table. “What are you doing?”
“I’m changing your diaper, silly,” she cooed. My ankles were in her hand, and she was smearing rash ointment everywhere. From my balls to my buttocks, I stunk and smelled vaguely of fish. I vastly preferred the green goop.
“Yeah,” I said. “I know. But why?”
She took a bottle of baby powder and engulfed me in a cloud. “You were wet.”
“Not that wet,” I complained. Only the very front had been wet. Normally I wasn’t at risk of leaking until the bottom back of my Monkeez were soaked. Fuck my life that I knew that with such certainty.
Janet went on diapering me. “I just don’t want you to get a rash.” She lowered me down and pulled the front up over my hips.
“”Do I look like I’m getting a rash?”
“No,” she finished applying the tapes. “But I want to be careful with it.” I lifted my head and looked at my crotch. Something felt…different. As suspected, Janet had put a different type of diaper on me. In lieu of Monkeez, Janet put me in a Koddles; a left over one from when she’d experimented with different brands. The cut was just different enough to feel. The decorations were pastel trains, rocking horses, and ragdolls. “Maybe we should get some more of these.”
“Why?”
She tapped the yellow line running the middle of the diaper. “Wetness indicator. Helps me check you without sticking my fingers in your pants.” It would also be easier to broadcast the state of my diaper. “Less likely you’ll get a rash.”
I didn’t call her on it, but I had the distinct impression, it wasn’t rashes Janet was worried about.
***************************************************************************************************
Next came the extra layers of securities. The layout of the nursery wasn’t enough to remind everyone of my reduced status. Janet ordered an entire cartful of Little proof latches, locks, socket protectors, and door knob covers delivered, and immediately installed them around the entire house.
The most annoying part was how easy they were for her to set up. Most of them were just a basic seatbelt tab and slot system put on with adhesives that made the stuff on my diapers look like scotch tape. No power tools required. Damn release mechanisms required strength that made Janet have to push and squeeze to get them to work. I don’t think even Ivy could have opened these gadgets. Within the space of a single afternoon, every drawer, door, cabinet, and external power source was inaccessible to me without direct Amazon intervention.
It was a small mercy that she didn’t start sectioning out the house with baby gates.
The window for sneaking around while Janet was distracted or otherwise indisposed had officially closed. Her cleaning frenzies were so hurried and all over the house as to make her functionally omnipresent. Removing my ability to open doors made it so she didn’t have to be. With my access so thoroughly limited, I’d never find my tablet on my own. Factor in that she could have put it up in a tall closet, lock it in her truck, or just covertly give it to a friend of hers for safe keeping, and my chances of covert communication dropped from slim to none.
“Janet?” I tugged on her pant leg while she finished installing locks on dish cabinets I hadn’t even considered climbing up to pilfer from. “Are you mad at me or something?”
Janet bent past me and checked my diaper…again. “No. Why?”
I opened my arms wide and rotated in a circle. “This.”
“I just don’t want you to be safe,” she said. I think she thought she meant it. “These are the same safety equipment that Amy has at her house.”
Amy? Again? I silently cursed that my Mommy talked so often to hers. “It wasn’t safe before?”
“We can always be safer,” she informed me. “I don’t want silly Littles climbing in cupboards, headboards, or licking batteries.”
Goddamn it, Amy.
I peered down at my bare feet. “Sorry.” My toys wiggled anxiously.
“It’s okay, bubba.” I felt her hand pat me down. “It’s not your fault. You’ve just got a lot of energy and sometimes make bad choices.”
My skin insides like they were boiling. I was being condescended to and punished at the same too. “Does this mean I can have my tablet back now?”
“No.” It wasn’t unkind. Just a simple refusal.
“But I will get it back, right?”
“If you’re good.” There was less commitment there.
“I’ve been being good,” I lifted my head. “A whole week. How can I be good if I don’t have the chance?” She cocked her eyebrow, considering. “How can you say it’s not my fault but still punish me?”
“You’re right.” My hope was short-lived. “That was a poor choice of words. We’ll talk about getting it back after your grandparents visit.”
I shuddered. I did not like calling her parents that. “Is that a promise?”
“It’s a maybe.”
‘Maybe’ was just a soft ‘no’. I shouldn’t push my luck, but my words were all I had left to me. “So you’re bribing me for good behavior? How would Nana and Pop Pop feel about that?”
The Amazon set her jaw. “I can promise that you don’t want to play that game, Little boy.” An inch of her teacher voice bled into the threat and I wilted instantly.
“I’m gonna go clean my toys up,” I said.
“Good idea.”
“Then will you do some Yoga with me?”
“No, but I’d be happy to watch.”
I cut my losses and crinkled off to go toss toys into bins.
*******************************************************************************************
And so it continued that way. Janet would fly into nesting frenzies, striding from room to room inspecting, finding, and fixing flaws, all while doubling back to check if I needed anything the way a waitress might during dinner rush. But then she’d finish a task, take a deep breath, and then come to me. “Okay. Time for a break. What do you want to do?”
Then she’d be Janet again. Not Ms. Grange. Not New Mommy Janet. Not Cold Guarded Janet. Not Bleach Tornado Janet. Just Janet. My Janet. We’d play, or talk, or she’d cook something for me. We just vibed.
Is it wrong to say that this was a relief? She checked my diaper a little more often than usual. Gave me more unasked for kisses. But it was good. She never stuck around for long, and she’d leave mentally before exiting physically. She was obsessing over something that wasn’t me and I was being knocked around in the wake.
Things came to a head on Tuesday with the decorations. After breakfast, Janet trekked up to the attic and came down with boxes of decorations. She dusted off a model cornucopia filled with wax grapes to place in the middle of the kitchen table. Joining them were salt and pepper shakers that looked like caricatures of Amazon settlers.
A folksy wooden plaque with the words “Unification Across the Nation” was hung on the entry wall. She carried around a more professionally made version of the First Unification dioramas than the kids had made back at school from spot to spot before settling on the coffee table.
Everything was made of carved and painted wood instead of crayon colored paper and shoe boxes. Irksomely, it also had a babied Little among the cast of characters. I made a note to find a way to stuff that in the bottom of the pail before thursday, somehow. I plucked up one of the less (less) offensive figurines and checked out the bottom.
“Made in Yamatoa,” I read. “Typical…” I put it down and looked around the living room. “Janet?” Where was she? She’d disappeared. “Janet?”
She came pacing back from the hallway, holding a hanger. Dangling from it was a disgusting button up collared shirt that was actually a onesie, a pair of khaki pants with a belt sewn in for show, baby slippers that looked like loafers at a glance, and a clip on tie that was in truth pacifier clip. The dreaded baby shower gift. “What do you think?” she asked.
“I’m not wearing that,” I stated plainly.
“I’m not asking you to.”
“Then why isn’t it burning?”
She snorted. “So dramatic.” She jerked her head for me to follow. “Come on. Let me show you something.”
I toddled behind her back into the kitchen. She hung the horrid ensemble on the back of my highchair and dug through the box of decorations.”It’s very special,” she told me. “I’ve had it for years.” Down from the bottom of the box she removed a burlap monstrosity that was almost as big as me. It wore a faded green gingham gown, dirty white sneakers, and had a mop head of golden hair tied up into messy pigtails.
“Ta-da!” She said
My eye brows shot up. “What’s… that?”
“It’s my feast friend!” She said brightly. “What do you think?”
It looked like something meant to scare birds away from crops. Janet seemed to think it should be something I needed to be impressed by. “I…have no idea what that is.” That was as honest an answer as I could give without starting a fight.
“Your family didn’t do feast friends growing up?” Janet asked. She lowered down to her knees and held the ugly doll by its blobby ill formed wrist-hands.
“Definitely not,” I said.
“Really?” She seemed actually taken aback. “Little families don’t make fake Amazons to sit with them at their dinner table for Unification?”
Fake Littles to attend as imaginary guests? This was a level of Amazon perversion that I was previously unaware of. The very idea probably incentivised more and more of the giants to venture out the next day and get their own permanent Little guest. The sickness went far deeper than I could have guessed.
I slowly shook my head and gave a drawn out “Nooooooooo…Nothing like that.”
“I guess that would take more materials,” Janet supposed. “What do Littles do for Unification?”
Don’t say drink and cry, don’t say drink and cry, don’t say drink and cry. “Um…we uh…sometimes throw parties where we get on stilts and put on baggie coats and such.” Gwiffin parties weren’t exclusively for Unification but they were known to happen.
Janet almost dropped the burlap monstrosity. “Awwwww!” Then she remembered she was talking about un-Adopted Littles. “I mean…that sounds incredibly creative and fun. That’s even better than making dolls! You’re putting on a show for each other.”
“I don’t know how to walk on stilts.” I interjected. “I can’t do that for Unification.” The idea of convincing at least three Amazons that a bunch of drunken Littles mocking them was some sort of sacred cultural tradition was darkly amusing, all the same.
“Oh sure,” she nodded. “I wasn’t meaning to ask you to.”
I pointed to the poor professional facsimile hanging from the highchair. “Why the outfit?”
“It’s tradition,” Janet explained, “that if your family doesn’t have any Little guests or family members, that you sit them at the table. But if you have a Little eating with you, you post them up by your door or mailbox to let everyone know. I made this one when I was just a kid!”
A doll to keep you company if you didn’t have the real deal, and a status symbol flex to your neighbors if you did. How typical. “You want to dress it up like me, now don’t you?”
“Mhm!” she nodded. “I thought it would be neat.”
Neat…
If I’d had any hairs on the back of my neck, they’d have been sticking straight up. On a hunch, i stepped forward and lifted the old dress up. “Janet…why is it wearing a diaper?”
Janet yanked the me sized simulacrum away and examined her old handiwork. “Oh,” she said. “How did that get there? I guess I put it on one day because I couldn’t find any underwear in her size.”
My reserves hit entry. I don’t know what they were at before, but that bullshit excuse took them out in one shot. “Janet,” I asked, “Can I please be honest with you?”
She clutched the doll the same way that I so often tended to hold Lion. “Yeah, honey. What’s up?”
“I hate this holiday.” I said. “I really, really hate this holiday. It’s probably my least favorite holiday ever.”
Janet snorted again. “Oh you’re just being a spoil spo-!”
“NO!” I shouted over her. My knees were shaking before I knew it. “No, I’m not. Please listen…” that last word squeaked out.
She stood up and took a seat at the kitchen table. “Okay,” she said seriously. “I’m listening.”
“I. Hate. This.” I spat out. “I hate the decorations. I hate the dolls. I hate the whole fucking holiday.” I paused to see if she’d correct me for swearing. She didn’t. “Do you know how awful this day is for us? You say you don’t see us as dumb babies, but then you’ve got nothing but paintings and dolls with us in diapers.”
“Yeah, but there’s also Littles that don’t have diapers,” Janet said a bit too quickly; like she was waiting for her turn to talk more than listening.
“THAT JUST MEANS THAT WE’RE EXPECTED TO BE OKAY WITH IT!” Holy shit I hadn’t meant to scream that! I wasn’t crying, but that was only due to intense concentration. My fists were all balled up from the stress of it. “UNIFICATION ISN’T A CELEBRATION! IT’S A FUCKING THREAT!”
“Oh wow, this really bothers you, doesn’t it?” I sucked on my teeth and nodded.
She bowed her head but made no attempt to lower back down to my level or scoop me back up to hers. That was probably for the best. “I’m sorry, Clark. I had no idea Littles saw it like that. For my family, this is just a silly tradition. Something for fun. No different than dressing up in a costume and asking for candy.”
Instead they dressed up an inanimate doll and asked for a real Little so they could have a living one…
“So will you get rid of the doll?” It was a struggle to make my voice come out anywhere between a scream and a whisper. “Please?”
“I…don’t…think…so..”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What?!”
“It’s just a silly tradition. It’s not harming anyone.” Janet was getting defensive.
“It’s harming me,” I said. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Maybe you’re just not used to it,” she tried. “It could be really fun. We could dress the feast friend up together. Do you want to help?”
I stomped my foot. “NO!”
Suddenly, Jannet was the one whining and begging at me instead of the other way around. “My parents were really looking forward to seeing this, though, Clark. They’re so proud that they’re grandparents and that I’m a Mommy. And…and…” she was grasping at straws, beyond the one poking through the doll’s sack skin. “...and I have so many.”
“I’m not asking you to disinvite your parents,” I pleaded. “I’m not asking you not to decorate. I’m asking you to just not do the stupid doll.” I looked behind me into the living room, “and one figure in the diorama scene.”
“But it’s tradition…” The words slapped me upside the head. Where the hell was this coming from? What if they’re upset…?” Janet asked. “We do it every year…”
“We can do other things,” I insisted. “Eat a bunch of food! Watch an okay parade and terrible football! Do other traditions!”
Janet blinked. Then blinked again. “But what if my parents are mad or disappointed?” Janet had barely looked at me this entire time.
“You said they were going to love me!” I reminded her.
Janet’s vision unclouded and she looked at me. “Of course they’re gonna love you! You’re you!” Her smile was soft, and sad. “But what if they think I’m doing a bad job?” A single tear fell from her eye and dripped all the way down her cheek. “What if they think I’m a bad Mommy?”
My brain turned to static. An Amazon actually questioning whether or not they were being a good caregiver? Debating with themselves? Putting the social pressure and potential blame on themselves being bad at their jobs instead of their Littles being disobedient or willful?
Error. Error. Does not compute.
The whole sequence of events up to this point took on a new context. The crazy cleaning sprees. The baby proofing of every conceivable access point. The constant checking against rashes or leaks. The decorations. It wasn’t me she was worried about. It was fear of being criticized by her parents. She was trying to make everything perfect. To be perfect. Her reserves of inner strength were tapped as well.
I had my in! I had my silver bullet! My tablet back and the privacy to use it in return for my cooperation. I still knew how to schmooze an Amazon, especially one that didn’t think me competent. I could talk Janet up and make her folks think she was the Adoptive Mommy of the goddamn decade if I put my mind to it, masked up, grinned and bore it.
If there was a time to strike, this was it. You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take! She was vulnerable and scared again. A few words, a simple twist of a knife and I’d have her wrapped around my pinky. Fish in a barrel!
A shame that I only had that thought later that night in my crib.
“But you’re a good Mommy.”
Janet sniffed. “No I’m not.”
“Yeah you are.”
“You don’t really mean that,” she said. “You’re just trying to get something you want.” She was close to sobbing.
“Not this time,” I promised. “You’re not a bad Mommy.”
She started pawing at her eyes, wiping away tears before they had a chance to fall. “You open up to Mrs. Beouf all the time, and have coffee dates with her after school, and then argue with me at home. She tells me about the games you’re playing and how much fun you’re having at school but you only want to play with your stupid tablet.”
I took a few cautious steps across the kitchen tile towards her. “Beouf is my…” Friend? Mentor? Teacher? “Beouf and I have a different relationship. I knew her a long time before all this.”
“You still trust her more,” Janet pouted. “Like her better. Love her more.”
“I…” I didn’t know what to say. “That doesn’t mean that you’re not a good Mommy.” I rested my hand on her knee. “You listen to me and try to consider my feelings. You don’t treat me as some stupid pet or a doll. Do you think I’d want somebody like Ambrose or Raine as my Mommy?”
“You still don’t want me as your Mommy.”
“I don’t want anyone as my Mommy,” I said firmly. “But if I had to have one, I’d rather it be you than anybody else.”
Her hand lifted my chin up so we were looking each other in the eyes. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Not even Mrs. Beouf?”
That made my skin tingle in a bad way. “Ew! No!” I climbed into Janet’s lap. “You’re not the perfect Mommy, Janet. You’re just my Mommy. And that’s enough. You’re enough.”
She hugged me so tightly as to squeeze the air from my body. I could still feel the hard masses of her swollen breasts. Her milk had yet to dry up. In fact, I thought I felt it leaking out onto her shirt right then.
“Thank you,” she whispered to me. “I really needed to hear that just now.”
“You’re welcome, Mommy,” I said back. “I think I might have an idea for a compromise.”
Comments
Just goes to show, even "mommy" has parents. There's always a bigger Amazon. It's a chapter like this that shows another aspect to how up their own asses Amazons are about their beliefs: They can't even conceive how bad their treatment of littles is, but also can't see how their traditions that don't involve littles directly are still incredibly offensive. But it isn't just baby craziness, it's legitimately culturally ingrained.
I'm still wondering how the letter will bite Clark in the ass.
