Done Adulting Vol. 1 Ch. 30

“I need to go to the grocery store this morning. Wanna come,” Amanda asked. Today was the day Jamie could eat soft solids again, and he looked forward to chewing his lunch. “You can help pick out some things for yourself.”

“Yeah! I never thought I’d get tired of pudding, but I’m through with it.” Pudding with protein powder. Pureed fruit. Protein shakes. Pudding with protein powder. Pureed fruit. Not that it didn’t taste good, but he missed variety, and there was something about chewing – he’d never noticed it before – that made a meal more satisfying.

“How about a bath when you get back? It’ll be less crowded if we go now.”

Jamie hadn’t ridden in Amanda’s car yet. It had a car seat just like Becky’s. He didn’t like that he couldn’t hear her very well, and the restraints did their job; he could only lean forward so much. They arrived at the store, and the parking lot seemed immense. Jamie estimated it had the same number of spots as a large grocery store back home, but the cars were so much bigger. The manicured trees on the concrete islands were bigger, too.

“Do you mind riding in the cart?”

“No. I think I’d prefer it.” Jamie liked having the independence to walk, but he felt he was always rushing to keep up, or else they were slowing down for him. He could only rush so long before he got tired. Amanda took a cart from the return and put Jamie in. She looked at the way he was seated. It seemed off. “I think this is for a big child. I’m going to put the seat belt on you just in case.”

Everything felt oversized to Jamie, but it did seem there was too much room for him in there. Jamie wasn’t a big fan of riding in carts, even if it beat speed walking to keep up, he decided. This was only his second time in one. He didn’t like the sensation of moving backward and not seeing where he was going. Nor did he like the rough ride over the asphalt. When the door slid open and the cart was on tile, it was much more comfortable.

“Hey Manda? How come we don’t leave the house more?”

“Well, a few reasons. There are some diseases you’re vulnerable to until your vaccinations are done. But mostly we just wanted to give you time to adjust. It must be hard to be in a world so different from your own, and the culture is different, and … well, we didn’t want to put you in uncomfortable situations until we knew you better. Why? Do you want to go out more?”

“Well, yeah. It’s nice, in a way, when everything is the same, but sometimes I get bored. I’ve read through my books. I’m getting really good at those coloring books and building with blocks. It would just be nice to do something else. And I don’t even know where we live.”

“We’ll make a point of it then. Let’s make a list later of places to go.”

Amanda loaded the cart with staples while Jamie looked around. People were concentrating on their own stuff. He saw other littles riding like he was or in car seats balanced above the seat of the cart. He only saw a few big children.

“How come there are so few big children. At the beach, too. I don’t think there were any.”

“That beach is littles-only a few days a week. Most bigs send their kids to camp here in the summer. It’s a cultural thing, I guess. I think it’s less common in the country. You’ll see more of them when school starts.”

“How do they feel about people like me?”

Amanda wanted to phrase this right. Big children varied just like big adults did in their reaction to littles, but for different reasons, reasons not easy to describe without perhaps frightening, or offending, Jamie.

“Uh, it depends on how old the kid is. By the time they’re around 8, they’re usually fine with littles. And teens babysit littles; teen girls especially dote on littles. But …” Was there a good way to say this? “By the time a big is about four years old, they’re as tall as you and heavier. Have you, um, ever seen a kid that young with a puppy?”

Jamie blanched, less at the comparison than the fact that he had. It was a mixture of mental and physical development. Kids that young don’t always understand a pet is not a stuffed animal, and when they do, they may not have the gross motor skills to be gentle with a pet even when they mean to be.

Amanda looked at his face. “So you have then. People are very careful about young children and littles. Young kids aren’t left alone with littles very often, even in the same family.”

It made Jamie think about something. “So what do big kids play with? Big baby dolls, or little dolls?”

“Both.”

“Hmm.” Jamie twisted around to see what was in the cart so far. “So what kinds of things can I eat now?”

“’Soft mechanical’ is what the doctor’s instructions say. So soft solids. Any special requests?”

“Cheese.”

“Cheese?”

“I’ve been craving cheese.”

Amanda laughed. “Would you like to put it on something?” So they went and got bread and pasta. Peanut butter. Soup. Eggs. Ground meat. Oatmeal.

“Ice cream,” he asked.

“I was betting you were going to say that.” Amanda crisscrossed the store, going back to get the things she had forgotten or that he remembered. They were about done.

“So I’m having some friends over this afternoon,” Amanda said as she put a few snack items in the cart. “You don’t have to hang out with us if you don’t want. But if you do you can skip your afternoon nap.”

Jamie felt a bit ambushed. This felt like it was being sprung on him. But then he knew it was unreasonable for them to run everything by him. They had to return to a normal routine at some point. He couldn’t be the only thing in their lives.

“Who are they?”

“Mel and Donna. Just some friends I grew up with; we go to school together now.”

“Anything I should know about them?”

“That they’ve been begging to meet you. I send them pictures sometimes.” Jamie got more and more comfortable with her taking candid photos on her phone. Hardly a day went by when she didn’t take at least one.

“Who else do you send photos to?”

“Uncle Danny and Aunt Laurie.”

“I’m not on the internet, am I?”

“Nope. Mom and I talked about that. We didn’t think it was right to put you out there for everyone to see without your permission.”

“Good.”

“They’re coming for lunch, and we’re just gonna hang out in the back yard. Here’s the little food aisle.” Sandwiched between the pet food aisle and baby food aisle. Jamie took some offense at the implication. I’m not a pet or a baby, he thought.

“What’s the difference?”

“Little food is made just for littles. It’s … I guess it’s made so that littles like it. Anything you want to try?”

He looked at the packages. They were brightly colored and had cartoons on them and looked not unlike packaging for kids back home. Jamie had no idea who the characters were. He hadn’t watched any cartoons; hardly any TV at all.

“Are those soft enough?” Jamie pointed to a package of cookies. Amanda looked at the back of the box.

“It says they’re ‘chewy’ here, so I guess they are. Let’s give ‘em a try. I think that’s everything.”

They had enough groceries for at least a week and one afternoon picnic. They had too much for self-checkout, so they had to wait in line. Jamie looked across at the other lanes. Once in his career, he took a week off for a staycation. He went to the park each morning that week; it was September, a good month to be out each morning in a park. He’d people watch. He realized he’d found a subculture he knew nothing about.

The park was busy each morning. There were some retirees, but otherwise it was moms with kids under school age. Jamie hadn’t known stay-at-home parents growing up, and none of the families he worked with had a stay-at-home parent. He’d just never thought of it before, but he found himself in a space without a man over 6 or under 70. Not that he didn’t know these moms worked; he was acutely aware of it. They just didn’t get paid for it.

The park in the morning just stood out to him as a part of the daily life of the city he never saw. He liked it. The day was fresh, the dew was still on the grass, the sun was still climbing, the air was warm but with a foretaste of fall. He was jealous just because these people got to be outside during the day, whereas he felt he was made to feel guilty if he left his desk for lunch. Everyone seemed happy those mornings in the park, from the babies in strollers to the little kids on the playgrounds to the moms with their morning lattes and the speed-walking women lapping the park on the trail.

“Can we go to the park tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Find everything aright,” the checker asked. Jamie always wondered back home what would happen if for once he said no. The checker was a woman on the late side of middle age with a broad smile. She must like mornings, too, Jamie thought.

“What’s your name, little guy?” Jamie was about to answer, but she made it obvious she didn’t expect him to. “Huh? What’s your name?” He bristled. “And why the unhappy face? Need some dry pants?”

Jamie opened his mouth to respond, then decided against it. What was the point? In a few minutes they’d be out of there. Did it matter what she thought? Amanda watched to see what would happen, prepared to jump in if needed.

Instead, the checker finished their order, the bagger put it into their bags, Amanda paid, and they went on their way with mutual thank yous.

Amanda got him situated in the car and loaded the groceries up. She appeared back at the door when she was done.

“Here. Have a cookie.” She was holding out one of the little cookies they’d bought.

“Thanks.” He took the cookie. “Why?”

“Because you did a good job by not getting angry with that woman. Did you want to?”

He shrugged. “At first.”

“And then?”

“I decided it didn’t make a difference … and that I should get used to most people who don’t know me treating me like that. She didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Good boy,” she said as she ruffled his hair. She quickly felt his crotch, which spoiled the moment slightly for Jamie, but, he thought, she was right about the one thing.

Amanda backed out of the space and had them on their way back home.

“Mmmmmm!” came from the back seat.

“What?”

“This cookie is so good! Seriously, what do they put in the food here? I wonder what this tastes like dipped in formula. Or put the two in a blender…”