Unfair-Chapter 122: Improper Introductions (Patreon)

Chapter 122: Improper Introductions

I was lying down in the backseat of Janet’s car. My pants were down at my ankles, there was a balled up Monkeez laying on the floor beside me, and Janet was looming over me fussing and tugging and tucking so that the new one fit just right. Those sticky tapes might as well have been a scalpel to her and she a novice surgeon working up the nerve to make the first incision.

My entire body reeked of baby powder, not just my ass, and I was wearing the abominable mock teacher outfit that I swore I’d never don. Per my suggestion, more had been added to the ensemble, besides. My hands were adorned with pale tan mittens-not the locking kind-and I wore a makeshift wig on my head that wouldn’t fool anyone, but that was sort of the point.

The wig was actually a red knit cap that Janet had threaded hundreds of snippets of matching yarn into and out of all last afternoon and well into the night. It was very fake looking faux hair, but that was sort of what I was going for.  

The mittens helped me resist the urge to touch my face, which was presently smeared with an unflattering concealer that turned my face the same beige color as the mittens. Blush was added to my cheeks and freckles and an eyebrow pencil gave me a wispy dark black goatee.  We’d tried using lipstick in an attempt to recreate my since-departed carrot beard, but one look in the mirror and both of us agreed that it didn’t really translate.  I didn’t want to look like Amy after finding a melted crayon…though that might have the same result I was looking for.

Completing the look, bits of woven straw grass has been carefully wrapped around my wrists,neck, and ankles so that anyone who looked close enough would think it hay stuffing leaking out of a dummy made of old burlap.

My compromise with Janet: Her parents wouldn’t have time to be disappointed that their stupid tradition wasn’t being followed.  Who would care that Janet wasn’t marking her territory or proclaiming my captivity all weekend long with a dummy by her mailbox? I was literally playing the part of said dummy.

“How are you feeling?” Janet asked after she’d finally sealed me back into the fresh padding.

I crossed my arms over my chest and gave a huff that mostly performative. “Honestly? Right now? Kind of ridiculous.”

“This was your idea, hon,” Janet replied. “And you look cute. Just like Silly Sock Day.”  

I rolled my eyes, happy that all the crud on my face was camouflaging my real blush. “Just get my pants up, please, Mommy.”  

Above us the sounds of jet engines roared with arrivals and departures.  Around us Amazons with suitcases occasionally speed walked out of the parking garage hurrying to catch a flight, or dragged those suitcases on their way back to their cars, tired from their flight. Glad to be home.

Janet snapped the dress shirt onesie together, pulled my pants back up, helped me out of the car and went back in for the discarded Monkeez.  Wouldn’t do to have her parents find that when we picked them up. “I’m not sure why you wanted the change,” she said. “You weren’t that soggy.”

It had been a two hour ride to the airport and it’d be another two hours back. Sooner was better than later. “I’m not meeting your parents wet,” I stated flatly.  

Janet grabbed the diaper and shut the back door.  “Honey,” she half-cooed, “They’re Amazons. I’ve told them all about you. They know about Maturosis. They’d be more surprised if you weren’t wet.”

Given their age and size, her parents would probably be surprised if I could speak in full sentences.  “They want me to pee my pants for them…?  Prove that I’m a good Little?” I was twisting her words around.  I couldn’t help it.  “How open minded.”

Janet dug her car keys out of the diaper bag and popped the trunk.  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. They’re not going to be thinking about what’s going on in your pants. They’re just going to be happy to finally meet you.”

I skittered around the side of the car so I could keep up with her.  “Yeah, and what happens when they don’t approve?”  I’d accidentally envisioned far too many bitter scenarios in the last sixteen to eighteen hours. Spanking. Enemas. Hypno-toons. Disorienting Rattles. Subliminal lullabies. Pacifier gags. Teeth extractions. Surgeries. Every single cruelty that the Raines and Ambroses of the world would have visited upon me had first been conceived, invented, streamlined, perfected, normalized, and endorsed by previous generations.  Janet was worried for a reason.

“They’re family,” Janet promised. She reached down into the trunk. “They’re gonna love you.  You made me a Mommy. You’re making them Pop Pop and Nana.”

We were seriously going to have to workshop those names.

“Then why are you so worried about what they think of you?” I asked. “Can’t be a bad Mommy if you have a good Little boy, right?”

“Or I could have a good Little boy in spite of everything I’ve done to screw things up.”  Janet looked like she’d just slapped herself.  “Nevermind.”

I bit back on the most unexpected urge: The desire to comfort. “Nevermind,” I agreed. “Not the point. Let’s just give them a nice surprise.”

From the trunk of the car she dug out my stroller; more precisely a third of it; the part that detached from the main stroller and converted into a kind of scooter. I’d ride ahead and surprise them at the baggage claim. Janet would walk behind and keep me in her sights using the stroller’s remote. I’d greet them, invite them to our Unification Feast, put on a little show, and then the long weekend from Hell could properly begin.

Her folks are charmed, she doesn’t put up that stupidly offensive dummy, I maneuver in public semi freely while not quite looking like me, bing-bang-boom everybody wins.

Gratification was delayed an extra ninety seconds because Janet didn’t want me driving my expensive toy around the parking garage. She had the homing function follow us on her heels all the way to the elevators.

“Let me try it out,” I whined. “I gotta get used to steering it and stuff.”

Janet fretted, and ran a hand through her done up hair, looking at me.  It was literally the chassis of the stroller that she pushed me around in, just lowered to the ground and contorted around by Amazon tech to look more like a stripped down dune buggy with motorcycle steering.  It could also recline into a carriage bed. It still had the five point Little-proof harness.  Why was she looking at it like it was a Yao-Guai trap ready to snap and break my spine?

“I think we better wait until we’re closer to the baggage claim.”

I stomped my mock loafer slippers in rapid succession and wrung my paci-clip tie.  “But if we wait, they’ll see you first and it’ll ruin the surpriiiiise!  Gotta commit to the bit, Mommy!”

“What if you get hurt? Someone could step on you if they don’t see you.”

Immediately I changed my posture and demeanor. Calmer. Relaxed. More reasonable. So-called ‘baby Clark’ tagged out. ‘Co-worker Clark’ tagged in.  “I used to ride a scooter everyday to work in the bike lane, in traffic.”  

Her lips pursed together.  I was making a point, but her baby-crazy concern for my safety was at war with my presented logic.  I used to ride a scooter…before my dynamic with her- with the entire damn world- shifted. If she opened her mouth right now the answer would be ‘no’.

My shoulders slackened. I cocked my head and tilted my gaze to the floor. Half-and-half time.  “I’ll be yelling like an idiot, making a goofy scene so everybody will see me coming.” I pointed to the monstrosity I’d hoped to ride.  “I won’t get stepped on.  And I can’t fall out with the safety harness.  And I can’t go to far away from you because then it will stop.”

Anxiety was heating up but it was evaporating instead of spilling over. The elevator dinged, opened, and we stepped out into the tunnel leading to baggage claim.  But Janet didn’t keep walking.  We were still talking. Negotiating.  

Listening to each other.

“What if someone thinks you’re lost?” She shuddered. “Or you’re having a Maturosis set in?”

I laughed bluntly. “Look how I’m dressed! No one would assume I did this myself.”

“What if they say those things so they can take you before I can get to you?”  Even among kidnapping monsters Janet feared kidnapping monsters.

I’d never once heard of a credible story of an Amazon taking another Amazon’s Little. “We both scream for help.  You scream that someone took your Little boy, and I scream that my Mommy is Janet Grange.”

Janet fought against the smile and the happy tears. Victory was within my grasp.  Time to shift back to baby.  I lifted my head and turned my eyes into saucers.  “Pleeeeeeeeeeease?”

I knew I won when her smile cracked and her eyes rolled. “Fiiiiiine.  Hop in.”

“Yay!”

I climbed into the infantile go-kart and held still so that Janet could buckle me in. I rested my feet on the pedals, and the vehicle lurched forward..  “Careful,” Janet cautioned. “They’re sensitive.”

“Apparently,” I hooted.  “Give me a second.” I took half a minute to examine and toy with everything. The go-kart comparison was pretty apt.  Right pedal went forward; left pedal moved back.  Jamming both at the same time locked the wheels and slammed the brakes.  The handlebars in front of me looked for steering.

I sped forward a few bounds on the carpet space between the pair moving sidewalks on either side. For the first time in forever, my forward motion had neither waddle, nor the slight bounce of another person’s footsteps.  The constant crinkling was drowned out by the whir of an electric motor being put to work.  

Damnit, but I missed this!  Giants on either side of me were gently nudging one another and smiling; condescension and schadenfreude disguised as nostalgia and second hand joy.  

“Daddy! Daddy! I want one of those!” I heard an Amazon kid say.

“You’re a little too old for that,” her father said kindly.

I tuned out the rest of the exchange and kept running my tests. Speed wise, I was outpacing the tourists and travelers on the conveyor belts so long as they were standing still, but a brisk walk would keep them almost parallel.  This was no work scooter.  

Amazonian legs could sprint and catch me, but I’d have the edge long distance. Battery power still outlasted muscle power.

I was reminded of distance when the engine shut off and the wheels locked. I’d drifted too far.  How far away was Janet?  The seat section of this monstrosity was still too similar to a stroller. The harness kept me from turning my body enough to look behind me, and the thing had no rearview mirrors.

“Mommy?!” I called out, pathetically. “I think I went too far.”  More quiet chuckles and grins caught my attention. I could see people unloading and loading on the far end of the people movers.  Not terribly far. But pretty far.  No time to be mad or resentful. I felt like a clown, but that was okay. I looked like one; they were just acting how I was cueing them to act.

“Try backing up now!”  Janet’s voice called.  She was closer, but not breathing down my neck.  I did as I was told.  I backed up, turned, braked, then changed directions back towards her. Janet daintily clapped her hands and gave a cheer. “Yay! You did it!”

I narrowed my eyes and focused my vision. Of course I did it. This was easy, just a matter of figuring out what it could do. I swerved and zigzagged from one glass partition on the dull carpeted floor to the other.  “Wooooooo-hooooo!”

More laughter. Janet’s and strangers.  Let them laugh. It’s what I wanted then. Just more getting into character.

The thing turned and swerved enough to prevent head on collisions, but it wasn’t tight enough. U-turns were a no-go. K-turns only. No tight rounding of corners. Wide turns only. I couldn’t lean into anything like I could with my old scooter. This was meant to be a play car, not an actual means of conveyance and it handled like it.  

I’d have to keep that in mind.

Janet stood, looking pleased and at ease, pivoting only to keep me in her direct line of sight while I did another K-turn back by the elevators.  “Ready?” she asked.

I beamed back up at her.  “Let’s do this!”

We traveled side by side with me keeping just ahead of her, gripping the handlebars and toying with the throttle. Subtly installed by the right handle grip was a shiny red button. I hadn’t noticed it at first because the mittens hampered my thumbs.  Were they free, my thumb could easily have slid over it and pressed it.  “What’s this?” I said to myself.

BEEEEEERP!!

A jolt of panic. I held my breath and stopped the throttle. No involuntary laughter. No dizzy spells. No muscle spasms, facial, bladder, or otherwise.

“That’s the horn,” Janet deduced.

Thank goodness it was just a horn.  “Yup.”  We went on.

 “We have another elevator,” Janet pointed up ahead.

“I see it,” I reported back.  Said elevators were beside and behind several rows of escalators that could best be described as ‘dizzying’ even by Amazonian standards. I’ve never ridden on a roller coaster but I suspect such a steep ride would be the closest thing to that first hill.

I surged forward into the elevator right as the doors opened.  “Wait-wait-wait!” Janet yelped jogging after me.  “Don’t-!”

There was no danger. It was empty.  Most travelers were taking the escalator. Janet got to it well before the doors were closed. I laughed and grinned up at her.

“Don’t do that!” she glowered back down.. “You scared me!”

My smile vanished and I shrank down as much as the restraints would allow.  “Sorry,” I said. And it was the truth.

The sliver of tension between us was broken when a pair of well dressed Amazon men jogged after us to catch the elevator. Looking at them they were either college kids trying to dress formally, or young men just out of college with a chip on their shoulder about how they had to present.  I knew this because it was exactly how I used to dress. Their outfits looked more expensive than what I used to wear, but it operated on the same principle.

“Here you go,” Janet held the elevator for them to get in.  “What number?”

“Four,” the first one said. He wore a light gray suit with chestnut brown hair.  

“Got it,” Janet said. “Oh, I forgot to hit our number. Three.’

One sliver of tension evaporated and another took its place. The other occupant, a skinny twenty-something with pinkish skin and darker hair in a navy blue suit, gazed uncomfortably at me.  Why was he staring at me?. My skin started prickling on the back of my neck. Why was he looking at me like that, like I was some kind of puzzle for him to solve?

My skin started blistering underneath the knit cap and makeup. It reminded me vaguely of those first parent-teacher meetings I’d endure every year. Giant men and women would stare at me across the table, their eyes searching for the hidden camera like a Little teacher was a joke.

What was the joke this time? I’d already lost. I looked like a friggin baby clown doll. Nothing at all like a professional to be taken seriously.  What credentials did I have left to prove?  What was left for them to object to?

“Are you okay, sir?” I called up to him.

His eyes narrowed, peering into me.  He raised his index finger slightly and pointed back down to me with a wag.  “Feast…Friend?”

I cocked my eyebrow.  “Yes?”

The man-child’s eye lit up and he pumped his fist like he’d just gotten a question on a gameshow right.  “I knew it!”  He leaned over and offered his fist to me. “That’s really neat.Good job Little guy! That’s really cool!”  

I froze. That was it?  He just wanted to guess my costume? He saw what he perceived as a child in an outfit and felt clever for knowing?   The elevator slowed.  The doors opened up.  “Okay, time to go,” Janet said. “Say ‘thank you’, Clark.”

My mittened fist grazed the stranger’s knuckles. Then with a “Thank you, Clark!”, I zipped out into the baggage claim.  I stopped a few paces out so that Janet could catch up. The laughter from the young men lasted until the doors shut.

“Cheeky,” she patted the top of my wig-hat.  

“What?” I feined ignorance. “You told me to do something and-”

“This is Silly Sock Day all over again isn’t it?”

Something clicked.  “Kinda…?”

When I was first dating Cassie I had to charm the Brauns and the other trailer park Littles that I was something besides a sellout Helper or an idiot begging to get Adopted. For close to a decade I’d charmed opinionated giant after opinionated giant that I was a competent professional that at a minimum wouldn’t cause their precious struggling preschooler to backslide into full blown infancy. Today I only had to charm my Mommy’s parents into thinking that I was a cheeky but playful toddler.  

The difference between this first impression and every other I’d had to make was that these people wanted to see what I intended to show them. They wouldn’t need convincing. This was exactly like Silly Sock Day except there was no risk of me losing my job and I was giving the bear belly rubs instead of poking it.

This had the potential to be even easier than I thought.
“Got the picture?” I asked.  

Janet squatted down on her haunches and showed me her phone one last time.  “This is them.  Nana and Pop Pop.”  

“Real names?”

“William and Helen Foster. But maybe don’t call them that.”  

“I won’t,” I promised. “I just wanted to know.”  It’d be a snowy day back in Oakshire before I thought of a grown man as ‘Pop Pop’.

Janet scrolled through text messages. “They should be finding their bags any second now.  Carousel 9, Flight 1017.”

“Carousel 9,” I repeated. “Got it. Try to keep up, please!”  I zipped off at top speed before Janet could give me another warning.

BEEEEEEERP!   I rang the buzzing horn obnoxiously BEERP BEEEEEEEERP!

“FAAAAAAAAAAAAWSTER!”  I called out at the top of my lungs. “FOSTER?!  FOSTERRRRRR?!”

BEEEEEEEEERP!  BEEEEEEERP!  

Fingers pointed. Heads turned.  No one was frowning. Why would they?  And I wasn’t even up to Carousel 7.  I slowed my pace and zig zagged so as not to outpace Janet too much. The way cleared itself, just like I knew it would.  Who would want to step on a baby in a little clown car?

“FOSTER!” I pitched my voice up like I was calling out to stray cats.  “Heeeeeer Foster-Foster-Foster-Foster-Foster!”

“Claaaaaaaaark…!”  Janet told me where she was.  I knew well enough from the pitch of her voice by now that she was worried, not angry.  

I stuck my hand up and waved it. “OVER HERE MOMMY!”  I smiled to myself. The woman never could stay angry at me.

BEEEERP-BEEERP! BEEEEYEEEEEEEEEERP!

“F-O-S-T-E-R! FOSTER!  FOSTER PARTY OF TWO!  FEASTING FRIEND FOR THE FOSTER FAMILY!”

Carousel 8 whipped by my right and I zig zagged all the way to Carousel 9.

BEEEEEYEEEEEEEERP!

I scanned the assembled looky-loos and rubber-neckers.  I hoped they’d already made it to the baggage claim and didn’t dawdle to get a pretzel or something. “FAWWWWWWWWSTER!  WILLIAM AND HELEN FAWWWSTER!”  

There!  I saw the sudden jerk and double take from a gray caterpillar mustache hiding beneath a bucket hat. Then a pair of bodies froze and looked around, as if maybe their ears had been playing tricks on them; perhaps they’d misheard their own names.They expected to be called to, but not the voice that calling to them, and were scanning everywhere but down to find the source.

Targets Acquired!

Janet’s parents weren’t what I would think of as ‘grandparents’. That’s probably because they looked more like my parents’ age.  In my own schema, grandparents were ancient and mysterious beings who gave candy and treats when you were a child, with old stories and sage advice when you were grown.  To me, grandparents were people in their seventies to nineties, because I was in my thirties. To the not quite two-year-old the Amazons wanted to see me as, these were beings as old as the trees.

In reality, Mr. and Mrs. Foster were what most would call ‘late middle aged’. Late fifties to early sixties. Old enough to be wishing for retirement, but not old enough to retire. They looked to be within five years of Beouf, (holy shit, Beouf was a grandmother, wasn’t she?) maybe even as old as Mrs. Zoge. They didn’t look anywhere near as boney or wrinkled as Brollish, but having a soul as black as the deepest pits of Tartarus tended to add a few city miles upon the mortal coil, so maybe they were older than her.

When I looked at William and Helen Foster, I saw a stout pot bellied man with a fuzzy mustache and his taller, slimmer wife, whose weight was shifting to her breasts and butt instead of her gut.  He wore an olive green bucket hat that allowed the remains of his hair on the side of his head to feature, with an untucked short sleeved denim blue button down shirt,  baggy tan cargo pants that went down past his knees, dark brown penny loafers on his feet and white socks that bridged the between where shorts ended and shoes began.  She wore high waisted blue jeans and a sleeveless white blouse, faded red flats with no socks to speak up.  Her hair was as full and thick as Janet’s, but kept shorter and brown. The red frames on her classes matched her shoes as well as her lipstick.

Even if I hadn’t been given a sneak peak, I felt I could have picked them out of a lineup right then.  Helen looked so much like an older version of her daughter, perhaps having spent more time in the sun, and Janet’s dark brown eyes were a mirror of her dad’s. She might have gotten his hair color too.  They certainly had similar facial expressions when they were confused and bemused.

Enough preamble and play. Time to go to work.

I sidled up in front of them, as if I were driving a taxi cab and not a stroller.  “Excuse me,” I said.  “I’m looking for a…” I paused, and stared at an imaginary index card in the palm of my hand.  “…Helen and William Foster…?  Do you know where I might be able to find a Helen and William Foster?  There’s a Feast that I’m supposed to be inviting them to.”

They stared, trying to puzzle me out.  Surprised but not offended.  Mr. Foster said. Just like Janet, the corners of Mr. Foster’s mouth fidgeted and tugged in a battle not to smile.  His mustache helped him conceal it better, but his eyes sparkled the same way  “We’re Helen and William Foster, young man.”.

Cartoonishly, I frowned and pantomimed confusion.  “Are you sure?” I asked. “You don’t look like a Helen and William Foster to me?  My Mommy gave me very specific instructions to find and invite Helen and William Foster.” They didn’t interrupt or try to correct me. Time for the kill.  “No. To me, you look more like…a Nana and Pop Pop!”

“Oooooh-ho-ho-ooooh!” Mr. Foster laughed and clapped his hands. “I get it!”

“Clark?!” Mrs. Foster blurted out.. Her eyes stopped blinking and had zeroed in on me.  Her nostrils were flaring with excitement.  I’d seen that look before on the worst day of my life. Janet got her particular brand of baby-crazy.

I nodded smoothly, knowing what would like be coming.  “Mmmmmhmmmm! Yes, ma’am.”

Without taking her eyes off me, Janet’s mother dropped her bags at her father’s feet.  “Bill… take my bags I am not letting that baby stay out of my arms for another instant!” She surged forward, bent over and practically ripped the restraints out with of the seat with the rest of me. “Come here you!”

“No!” I screamed, thrashing impotently in her titanium embrace. “Don’t! Stop!”  My giggling wails fell on deaf ears as peck after peck landed on my cheeks and forehead. An unexpected side benefit of the tan concealer  was that I had an extra layer of protection from the torrent of lipstick kisses.

“Mwah!  Call me Nana, again! Mwah! Do it! Call me Nana, again!” She stopped just so she could gush. “Did you hear that Bill? He called me ‘Nana’!  I’m a ‘Nana’!” One more kiss. “Call me Nana again! Do it!”

Janet’s first days as my Mommy suddenly made so much more sense. At least it wasn’t as jarring the second time around.
“I love you! I love you! I love you!” She jumped up and down with me like she’d just gotten the winning lottery ticket for her birthday and I was the check. “I just met you and I love you!”

Janet’s dad groaned theatrically and adjusted things so that the duffle bag his wife had dropped secured and balanced on top of the larger rolling suitcase. “Now where is your-?  Oh! There she is! Hi Pookie!”

Janet walked up. Blushing, proud, and glowing.  Mission accomplished.  “Hi Mom,” she gave an uncharacteristically bashful wave. “Hi Dad.”

I dug myself part of the way out of the cosseting chamber that was Mrs. Foster’s arms and lifted my head up to see.  “Pookie?!”

Her Dad spread his arms wide and met her halfway, taking her into a hug. “Ohhhh, it’s good to see you again, Janet.”

Meanwhile, my so-called Nana was going full Erymanthian Boar on her babying of me. “Who’s a clever Little boy?” she cooed and squeaked.  “You are! Yes you are! Dressing up and surprising your Nana and Pop Pop like that!”

My initial laughter had been tinged with the thrill of victory combined with the adrenaline rush of being yoinked up as if from a taut bungee cord. It was quickly mutating into nervous and pained laughter while I struggled to protect my stomach and ribs from Mrs. Foster’s stabbing and tickling fingers.

Janet returned the hug. “You too, Daddy.”  Her cheeks got fuller and redder. “I see you’ve met Clark.”

He laughed and threw his arm over her shoulder, guiding her over to where Mrs. Foster was trying to give me diabetes via my ears and to prod giggles from me like it was torture.  “We sure did! You told us he was a cheeky thing, but we didn’t think he’d be so gosh darn silly with it!”

My tickle torture stopped so that Janet’s mother could properly greet her..  “Hello, Pookie!” The kiss on Janet’s cheek was much more subdued but just as loud.  “Mwah! Happy Unification!”

“Happy Unification, Mom!”

That was all the peace, Janet was going to get for a while.  “Is that his diaper bag?” Mrs. Foster gasped. “Quick, get me a bottle! A rattle! A toy! A board book! A diaper! Anything!”  She bounced me roughly and growled!  “Let! Nana! Baby! This! Boy!”

“Mom!” Janet fretted. “Stop. You’ll overstimulate him.”  That was Janet for: ‘I’ve seen him bite and swear at others for less.’  I was managing to hold my temper and keep my humor…for the moment.

“Nonsense,” her mother waved her off. “Babies love the attention.” For what already felt like the hundredth time her face was inches away from mine.  “Don’t you, sweetie?  Clark loves his Nana! Doesn’t he?  Yes he does! Yes he does!”

“He’s a Little with Maturosis,” Janet tried to correct her. “Not a baby.”

Mrs.Foster didn’t look away from me, keeping me cradled and coddled to the point of discomfort.  “What’s the difference?”

Janet’s dad was ahead of the game.  “Nana…” he said. “Do you wanna spend our entire visit at the airport or do you wanna play with your new grandbaby someplace more appropriate? Why don’t you give him back to his Mommy and we can all get out of here.”  He tossed Janet a wink.  “Right, Mommy?”

Spearmint breath misted down onto me in the form of a sigh,  “You’re right, Pop Pop.” Mrs. Foster said.  She handed me over to Janet and I clung to her much more tightly than usual.  “Sorry, Pookie. You know how I can get.”    

“Yeah,” Janet said softly,  “I know. I kind of did the same thing at first.”

“It’s just been so long since I’ve had a baby to play with!” She clapped her hands and bounced excitedly. “And now that I’m a Nana, that means I get to play as much as I want and then give the baby back!”

“Don’t even have to change any diapers,” her dad popped in.

Helen’s smile went crooked.  “As if you did any of that the first time around…”

“So why start now?”

I saw an opportunity.  “Big mood.”

The man looked at me, puzzled.  “You don’t like diaper changes, Little man?  Get fussy when your Mommy tries to clean you up? Think you’re a big boy or something?”  

How much of that was playful? How much was threatening? How much was my own paranoia and how much was him simply being clueless at how absolutely terrifying he was to me?

Time to take my shot, anyways. “I didn’t say that, Pop Pop, sir.” I replied. “I just said that I’ve never changed a diaper. So why start now?”

The joke rattled around in his head for a second and then he let out a hearty belly laugh. “Oh we are gonna get along just fine, kid! Just fine!”

“I just don’t want to miss out on anything,” Janet’s mother whined.  She was a junkie who was already going through withdrawal moments after her last fix.

Another shot! “Excuse me…” I said as innocently as I could pull off.  “Are you dying, Nana?”

Janet’s mom drew back, offended.  “You don’t think I’m that old, do you?”

“No ma’am,” I followed up.  “It’s just I don’t know what you’re in a hurry for.  According to my Developmental Plateau-”

“You’re what?” she interrupted me.

“Clark’s teacher is very much into helping Littles understand themselves so they can be happier,” Janet tried to explain. “There’s a lot of research going on right now and she explains it to them in ways they can understand.”

“Huh,” her dad scratched his mustache. “They’ve got this Little stuff down to a science huh? What’ll they think of next?”

Oh! These two didn’t subscribe to the Little Voices nonsense and theories about Maturosis. They just thought I should be sucking down formula for the rest of my life because I could still fit in their laps.

“What does that have to do with anything?” her mom asked.  One look at me threatened. “Are you just bein’ silly, Little boy? We can be silly later, when we get home. Maybe after your Mommy feeds you and puts you down for a niiiice nap.”

Let’s try that again. First impressions were, in fact, important.  “Am I ever gonna have to grow up, Nana?” I asked, sounding afraid.  

“Oh of course not, honey!”  Her was slowly drifting upwards towards my face.

Got her!  “Then why are you worried about missing out with me?” I posited. “If I’m gonna be Mommy’s baby and your grandbaby forever and ever, then why rush things?  I’m never gonna get bigger, so you’re not really gonna miss out on nothin’.”

The hand that had been honing in on my cheeks snapped back and smacked the woman lightly on her own cheek. “Oh. My gosh. That is so true!” To Janet she said, “It’s amazing the things these precious Little boys and girls say!”

Finally, we started retracing our path back to the airports parking garage.  Janet clicked the remote and the stroller-kart followed along like a well trained animal.  

“You found yourself a cutie and a smartie, Pookie,” Janet’s father said. “A real keeper!”

“And so polite and well behaved!” her mother added, “That doesn’t happen on accident. That has to be taught!  You’re doing a great job, honey!”

“Thanks, Mom.”  Janet said.  She nuzzled her head against mine and whispered in my ear. “Thank you, baby.”

So far, so good. I got to do a long overdue test run, turn on the old charm, managed to not freak out, and hopefully make two older Amazons slightly more tolerable for the coming festivities. Everyone was at ease and happy, especially Janet.  A particular cliche many people grow up hearing is ‘Happy wife, happy life’.  I couldn’t think of anything that rhymed with ‘Janet’, but I whispered back into her ear, “Welcome, Mommy.”