The vast room has bare parallel walls and vaulted ceilings so that his voice may carry and resonate and flutter, so that he may delight in hearing it, therefore he will nary cease to speak loudly. There are clones of his father, spread throughout, so that an opportunity to argue and be stubborn are plentiful – indeed, never ending. Vats of bathwater are not to be used to wipe away cupcake residue, or the like, from his face, but are for vigorous splashing, accompanied by continuing shouting and singing of nonsensical lyrics. The towels that surround the bathtubs are not for cleaning or drying but are simply meant to remain and become soaked and squishy. Televisions, each presenting a different children’s feature presentation, are also conveniently located throughout the room, each connected to daddy’s expensive headphones so that he, with peanut butter fingers, may put on and hear. Likewise, undressed windows are also at appropriate height to accompany finger smudges and dirty face smears. Place settings of chicken nuggets and French fries are also in abundance, each with a colored [“We went camping, just me and my dad”] plastic cup generously filled with water used for dunking said chicken nuggets. There are also environmental chambers [“I picked the campsite, but someone was already living there…”], each maintained to a steady 38-degrees Fahrenheit, [“…So I gave it back”] where he may freely enter at will and run and frolic in said temperature without a coat.
….Hrrrmmfff. What the? No. No! I want to go back! Please, have pity. Perhaps if I close my eyes and pull my blankets back over my head that wonderful place will once again fill my mind. “We found another campsite nearby. My dad was tired, so I pitched the tent.” Ugh, he’s such a chump thinking that lovingly reading my favorite stories will be a harmless way to lull me out of sleep…
“No, daddy, little critter not go camping.”
“Well, let’s read on and see what happens. Then we can pick out the clothes you’ll wear today – maybe your T-Rex shirt! Ooooh, how does that sound, big guy?”
Y’know, I recognize that he’s speaking but all I hear is ‘blah blah blah please argue and resist everything I’d like you to do this morning.’ Maybe if I curl up in a ball he’ll go away. Perhaps a low-level grumble will be a nice embellishment.
“I wanted to take my dad for a ride in our canoe, but I launched it too hard.”
Seriously, he’s still here? Crap and a half, can’t the dude take a hint? If only wrapping myself tighter in these blankets would cause them to swallow me whole so that my very consciousness will leave this cursed mortal prison and my spirit may soar freely away from this place to be with the birdies and airplanes and fireworks and the – There’s my mommy!
“Mommy Mommy Mommy!” Cursed blankets, get me out of these damn things that I may cling to my mommy, to claim her. “Mommy, hold me. Hold me!” I want you and only you. Only you can hold me and say ‘good morning.’ Only you can do stuff for me: Only you can pick me up; only you can talk about reading little critter and getting dressed; only you can get my yogurt out of the fridge, peel off the foil lid and give me a fun plastic spoon; only you can turn your back to me.
Yes. Only you.
Look at Daddy sitting there on the edge of my bed, looking like a damaged puppy. Better luck tomorrow morning, big guy.
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