Exclusive tale - "Favorite Aunt" - Part 3

I look over at Lucy. She's wearing a blue dress with a bunny on it. 

I’m Lucy’s big brother. But I don’t feel very big. And whenever I try to sort things out in my head, Auntie Sarah confuses me again.

“What happened?” I ask. I’m sitting in the nursery with no idea what to do with myself. I glance with a strange sense of envy at Lucy; she knows exactly what to do, crawling over her activity mat, perfectly happy to play with the shapes and nose-makers. Of course she’s happy; this is all normal for her.

I look down at my body, chubby little arms and legs, and I look at my clothes; a blue and white striped thing that’s so babyish, I want to throw up.

Auntie Sarah gives me one of her winks, and I imagine her winking at all the kids she babysits. Because this can’t be real, this must be made-up. I’m not really a baby, and when I think she said she was magic, maybe that was the only true thing she said.

“What’s the matter, Jakie?” she asks, in the same tone she’s been using since I woke up. All treacly sweet, like I’m an actual baby. When she talks that way to Lucy, she laps it up, all goggle-eyes and big smiles, but Lucy’s a real baby, all stupid and helpless.

Auntie Sarah did something to me. It wasn’t bricks in her canvas bag. It was some kind of machine. I remember seeing it, or a bit of it. Bright lights and a high-pitched noise. But then again, maybe that part was a dream. It’s hard to be sure because I was so sleepy when it happened.

“Stop,” I beg, my voice high and lisping. Thop.

“Don’t you like your outfit?” Auntie Sarah asks. She’s been taking pictures of me with her phone, and I cringe, imagining Mum seeing them. I imagine Joe seeing them and feel a sudden weight between my legs like I’m about to wet myself.

“So traditional, so perfect for a little boy. Peter Pan collar, romper and bodysuit, and those matching little sickies! I think it’s adorable, and now you and Lucy match! You’ve even got a bunny on your leg, and it’s got a fluffy tail, just like Lucy’s dress!”

The way Auntie Sarah talks, she must think I’ve won the national lottery. But why would I want to ‘match’ Lucy, I’m so much bigger than her. Well, normally I am.

“Don’t want it,” I reply, and there’s a whine in my voice that she can’t possibly miss. The stupid lady keeps acting like everything’s fine, but it isn’t, I’m not a baby, and she’s made me look stupid on purpose.

“You don’t like the fluffy tail?” asks Auntie Sarah with a perplexed expression. “Don’t want to be Peter Rabbit?” She giggles. “Or Jakie Rabbit?” She takes my little fingers and makes them rub against the bunny pattern on my outfit. “Mmm,” she says, as if she’s the one touching it. “All happy and fluffy! Right, Lucy? Fluffy bunny?” She beams at my baby sister, and Lucy of course beams right back, an open-mouthed smile with stupid baby drool running down her chin.

“Fuffy!” Lucy exclaims, and waves her arms agreeably.

I would roll my eyes, but I can’t seem to do it, so I bow my head instead. I don’t want to look at Lucy or Auntie Sarah. “Don’t like bunnies,” I mumble.

“You liked them before,” says Auntie Sarah, still with that mix of surprise and coddling sweetness. She reaches for one of the soft toys she brought with her. “Here’s blue bunny, he’s your favourite, remember?”

And I almost smile. I almost take the bunny and cuddle it. Because it’s just as fluffy as before, and it’s bigger now. Well, no, I’m smaller, but it would be nice to hold the bunny, and I know that Auntie Sarah would be happy. And there’s something about making her happy…something about being good for her…

No. No thanks. This is just stupid magic, and I’m not playing. I turn my head, and when Auntie Sarah puts the bunny on my lap, I can feel the fluffiness against my legs, but I squirm away, disgusted by the chunky thickness between my legs, crawling until I’m far away from the stupid bunny.

“Don’t want it,” I insist. Doan wannit.

“Why not?” asks Auntie Sarah, and for once it seems like a genuine question. She looks over at me with a calm, inquisitive expression.

I glare at her. “Because I’m not a baby!”

“But you wanted me to take care of you tonight. You said you wanted to stay here with Lucy.”

I shake my head. I pull at the stupid baby socks on my stupid baby feet. “Wanted to be with my mates.”

She nods. “Ah yes, you’re friend Joe. And what do you want to do with Joe that you can’t do right here with Lucy and me?”

I look down at myself, feeling angry. She sounds like a teacher, quizzing me. It’s hard to remember the plan when I’m dressed all babyish, when I’m all chubby and little. I try to focus on what I’d said to Joe, what we’d agreed. It’s fuzzy and confusing, a dream like the lights and noises that came from the weird machine that Auntie Sarah lifted out of her canvas bag.

“Pizza,” I blurt. “And games!” I nod, feeling clearer. “We was…we were…I wanted…eat pizza and play games.” I blush. It sounds weak when I say it. It doesn’t sound good enough.

But Auntie Sarah doesn’t laugh at me. She comes over and sits beside me, and says sympathetically, “I know you like your friend. I’m glad you do. Joe’s your best friend, isn’t he.”

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t really need pizza, because you already had all those fish fingers, remember?” She puts her arm around me just as I recall, quick as a flash, sitting in the special baby chair in the kitchen and eating the cut-up fish sticks with my hands, just like Lucy does.

“You ate so many!” Auntie Sarah pokes my tummy gently. “So much more than Lucy did. Mummy told me you love fish fingers, and Mummy was right! What a hungry boy you were!”

She kisses the top of my head as I think about the fish fingers. She’s right. I ate them all up. It was just after I woke, after the strange machine, and I was so hungry, maybe I would have eaten anything, but they tasted so good, and I even got to have ketchup with them.

“So you don’t need pizza,” says Auntie Sarah. “Because your tum-tum is all full. Isn’t it?”

I nod. “Uh-huh.” It’s nice to feel full, and I’m glad Auntie Sarah knows I can eat more than Lucy. I smile with satisfaction. I ate them all up, and I remember how pleased Auntie Sarah was, and how she said I was such a good boy.

And then I frown. “But I don’t want bunnies. I’m not a baby.”

“Ah,” says Auntie Sarah. “I see the problem. You think just because I’m a baby-sitter, I only look after babies.”

I wrinkle my nose. Is that the problem?

“But it’s okay, honey. I look after big boys as well.” She strokes my back and continues, “I thought you’d like your special outfit, because you loved your blue bunny before. But I’m not trying to make you a silly baby like Lucy, I know you’re much bigger. And I’m glad you are. Mummy told me what a good helper you are.”

She smiles at me, and I feel better. Because she knows I’m not all little and stupid like Lucy, but also because she’s not talking to me in that syrupy way like she did before.

“So let’s make a deal,” she says.

I look up at her. “How do you mean?”

“I mean, be a helper. Mummy told me that Lucy can be a handful in the bath. Is that true? Is she going to be all splashy, is she going to get me all wet?”

I grin. “Yeah, Lucy’s always making messes.”

“Okay, then. So help me with the bath, and then after, you can wear whatever you want. If you tell me you don’t like bunnies, then no bunnies.” She holds out her hand, and I realize she’s offering to shake mine.

I hesitate. “And no bunny toys?”

She nods. “No fluffy bunnies, not if you don’t want them.”

I press my legs together, feel the bulge. “I don’t want a stupid nappy, either.”

Auntie Sarah laughs. “Like I said, you can wear whatever you like. But you have to help me with Lucy in the bath, okay? That’s the deal.”

I smile. It’s a pretty good deal. And I shake Auntie Sarah’s hand, and even though her hand is so much bigger than mine, practically swallowing it up, it still feels good to shake.

Babies definitely don’t shake hands.

“Deal,” says Auntie Sarah firmly. “And now it’s time…” She goes over to Lucy and picks her up, giving her such a lovely cuddle that I feel jealous. “For bubble bath!” She jiggles Lucy gently in her arms. “Ready for bubbles, Lucy?”

Lucy squeals her agreement, and I smile at how silly she is, and for the first time since I woke up, I don’t feel confused. I’m going to be a good helper for Auntie Sarah, and I won’t have to wear stupid baby clothes or play with stupid baby toys.

I can’t wait to tell Mummy all about it.

To be completed...