Mommies and Daddies

Congratulations on starting the journey.  How long until the race?  I find gradually building mileage 12-16 weeks out with one long (16-20 miles at slower than expected marathon race pace with walking/breaks being good things and nothing to be worried about) per week before cutting mileage back 3-4 weeks out to reduce fatigue.  Mixing in YASSO's (800 meter repeats run at marathon goal pace {if your goal is a 4:30 hour marathon you would run the 800 meters in 4:30 or 9:00/mile pace} with equal time recovery {4:30 in this example} up to 8 times) with middle mileage (4-7 miles) and one or two rest days.   As Little Sherri said, figuring out which energy gels/foods/drinks work best for you ahead of time is key so that you know what works on race day.  Then during the race try to eat/drink every 45-60 minutes to keep energy levels up.  

1 to 2 hours max for me, but sometimes within 30 minutes if needing to go somewhere.

One of our adopted kiddos, who has suffered from both physical and psychological abuse, does the same, but she is also autistic, so we can just tell everyone it's her autism.  

Quick update:  Sorry it is late, I'm an idiot who thought I'd definitely be up for writing over the weekend I had a Warhammer tournament. That obviously did not happen  But, I have chapter 1 fully written, I just want to do an editing pass on my computer tonight and then I'll upload it.

Chapter 155: The Greatest Complication I hate holidays. That’s objectively not true at all, of course. That Solstice present from Beouf had been probably the best I’d ever gotten, and Janet’s had knocked my socks off, too.  The Unification Day dinner with my new ‘grandparents’ had its ups; the same could be said for the more somber festivities I’d regularly attended with my in-laws.     What I should say is that I love the start of holidays, but I hate the aftermath.  You put your life on hold, you do crazy things, you have a good time.  Then the holiday ends, and it’s back to work as though the whole experience never happened.   Compartmentalization. Pure Compartmentalization.  There’s a version of you with your friends and family and there’s a version of you at your job.  Instead of ‘fight or flight’, it’s ‘make merry or mask’.  I hate that so much. It’s like the holiday never happened or something. Like a switch gets flipped and you stop existing as you had. I don’t think it’s just a Little thing, either. Melony Beouf my friend was much different than Mrs. B. my teacher. Melony on break could be a trip.  Mrs. Beouf still found ways to grate against my sensibilities.   As a teacher, after Solstice was always the worst time of the year for me.  That’s when things tended to start ‘ratcheting up’ for the upper grades. Now that we were in the second semester that meant that some ‘big test’ or another was ‘right around the corner’, and we had to ‘hit the ground running’ and not ‘let ourselves get too comfortable’. The first few weeks after Solstice and Winter Break were always the most intense for the faculty.  The students had been off for about two weeks, and thus felt the need to try and find a way to make up the difference. I’d characterize it as an act of cultural self-flagellation but that would imply that Brollish wasn’t the one holding the whip. My students were too young to be tortured with a boring multiple choice test, and something like that would be a relief to Beouf’s caseload. Yet even we weren’t immune to the pressure permeating the campus air.  Most other teachers didn’t have I.E.P. meetings to be perfect for and third quarter was the season for unannounced teacher observations from administration. Any time between January and March, Brollish could come into your classroom and decide whether you were doing your job or not.   Sometimes she’d just be ‘passing through’ or ‘popping in’, likely because she didn’t see anything she could mark you down for, so you’d always have to be on guard.  After the holidays was also the time the school board tended to get more involved.  My second year of teaching I got my picture in the paper. Some school board member was running for re-election and took a picture with me to show how inclusive Oakshire really was.  I didn’t find out about it until months later.  A giant man in a suit just came into my classroom with a camera man, smiled at me and shook my hand, asked me my name and for a ‘tour’ of the room.  To my kids’ credit, they were on their best behavior and that particular batch knew how to be charming as anything around Amazon adults (did they get that from me, I wonder?).  I think the pour kids thought they were being scrutinized instead of me.  To the Tweener photographer’s credit, all of the published photos made me look damn good. Good thing the school board member didn’t bring a film crew or they would have picked up that he spoke to me and the four year olds with the exact same tone and slow rhythm. Point being people tended to be on edge right after a holiday, and with good reason. That energetic anxiety wasn’t limited to teachers, either.  This particular Wednesday saw Winters and Sosa in rare form.  The entire class was shuffled into the occupational therapy room, Ivy included, and Beouf and Zoge were told to enjoy the hour or so of quiet as a late Solstice gift.   Our route was much shorter than it had been. Since Jessica and Mel had infinitely better chemistry than Beouf and Ambrose, we were ‘allowed’ (read: forced) to quietly cut through my old classroom in lieu of walking all the way around the building.  I would have protested and dug my heels in, except that Sosa picked me up and carted me across the way before I knew what was going on. Some mixture of pride and humiliation kept me from putting up more of a fight, lest the children be interrupted and see me in a decidedly less than adult state.  I don’t care who you are, there’s no way to look dignified in a fleecy white romper with blue snowflakes and matching socks.   To their credit, Jessica and Tracy handled it incredibly well.  Only two kids needed reminders to focus on their own tasks.  For a bunch of three and four year olds? That’s amazing!     Several waves of gasps and calls of “What the-?!” rose up all around me.  Sosa’s boring work tables had been shoved aside, along with Winters’s more bulky equipment.  Only the single computer over in the corner farthest from the door remained that I could see. The room was far from bare, however.  The entire space had been converted into an indoor playground.  The ballpit remained off to the side, but now there was a slide so that the Littles could get out, and stairs so that they could climb back in again.  Winters had set up one of her obstacle courses again, but this one had been taken to the next level.  Two levels and contraptions like doggy doors, net ropes, revolving doors, and what I can only describe as moving tackling dummies that a contestant had to bob and weave around lest they get bowled over. And they had a bounce house!  It was a tiny one but it was more than big enough for someone my size!!! The room had turned into a more accessible version of the Fall Festival! All for us! It was much smaller than Beouf’s playground but it was so much cooler all the same!  Sosa set me down on my feet and took center stage.  “So I see you like what we’ve done with the place,” she smirked.  “Do we get to play?!” Shauna blurted out.   “Of course we get to play,” Tommy rolled his eyes. “Hey!” Mandy growled. “It was an honest question.” The conversation became a bunch of incoherent squawking for about thirty seconds.  That was when we noticed that the Amazons weren’t talking.  One in front and one in back, both just stood there with their arms folded looking mildly amused but annoyed.  My friends quieted down. “We wanted to give this class a late Solstice present,” Sosa said, “so we decided to let you play today.”  Translation:  They partied too hard over holiday and hadn’t fully recovered so they were phoning this week’s session in and getting it done all at once. “It isn’t going to be like this next time,” Winters added. “So make sure to enjoy this and make the most of it.”  Translation: We’re framing this as doing you a favor and are hoping your fear of missing out will make it so that you comply. Sosa pointed sideways as though seeing through the wall back to Jessica’s classroom. “And just so you know, guys, we’ve already talked it over with Miss Starke and Mrs. Beouf; they are perfectly fine with any of you going to time out next door.”  Translation: Suck it, Clark!   Winters stepped to the side of the group so we could all see and pointed over to the corner where the standard teacher’s desk and the computer were confined.  Directly underneath it was a blue cooler big enough to act as my coffin.  “We’ve got drinks in there, too. Bottles and juice boxes.  Make sure to drink at least one.  We don’t want you to get overheated.   My eyes didn’t linger on the cooler for long.  They drifted up to the small stacks of diapers and wipes sitting on the desk above. They were tall enough to  block out the majority of the computer screen, and I knew from a glance that they weren’t all the same brand.  “What are those diapers over there for?”  Sosa’s eyes flickered with dark amusement. “You don’t know what diapers are for, Clark?” My ears burned while my classmates snickered around me.  “You know what I mean…” I was about to call her ‘Jazzie’ but let the thought die on my tongue. To a degree, her and Maxine’s calculations were correct. Poking the bear wasn’t worth missing out on the fun this time; not for an admittedly clever joke. Winters cut the tension with some diplomacy.  “We borrowed some of your diapers just in case.  Wouldn’t want to embarrass anyone by cutting back through Ms Starke’s room, or spend more time getting changed than needed by going the long way around.” “That and we promised your teachers a full break,” Sosa concluded. “That means no interruptions for diaper duty.” From a classroom and time management perspective this was brilliant.  With their tighter schedules and caseloads the therapists were often put at a distinct disadvantage. Worse behavior was tolerated for longer because discipline and travel time ate away at precious minutes. Diaper changes and tantrums were excellent stalling tactics because there wasn’t enough supervision or supplies so that it wouldn’t interrupt their instructional time. But with the pair working together and covering one another’s backs as well as being allowed to use the pre-k classroom as a time out and shortcut, and being willing to call our bluffs on diaper changes, they’d more than doubled their effective instructional and indoctrinational time.  More annoyingly, they were dead on.  I would hate being dragged or carried back through my old room just to be changed in Beouf’s bathroom.  All the kids would know why; they weren’t stupid, and I still had more than enough pride for that knowledge to be a deterrent.  And this set up looked novel enough to where I doubt I’d even want to ask for a change. My eyes narrowed with suspicion.  What was going on here? There was a trap. There had to be some kind of trap.  There was always a trap.  Could it be as simple as getting us desensitized to playing in used diapers?  Unlikely. We were halfway through the year and that was a day one move. “Ready?” Sosa cut in.   Winters grinned.  “Go!”     We took off into the one room carnival at crinkling mach speed.  Yes, even me.  Yes it was a trap.  Of course it was a trap.  Everything was a trap.  But Sosa’s and Winters’s brand of control tended to be subtler than a swirling disk or a song with a hypnotic message.   Usually… I waddled onto the obstacle course play gym and fell to my knees the second my weight was settled.  “Oh fffffuck,” I hissed through my teeth.  The bottom floor was made of the same type of perfectly balancing, incredibly relaxing and comforting material that my playmat at home was made out of.  It was almost like my load bearing joints were all being massaged and numbed all at once. And for some reason it felt even better with increased surface area.  I wanted to crawl on this floor. It was even more potent than my setup at home. Jesse, Tommy, and Sandra Lynn all ended up writhing on their backs and bellies, luxuriating in the feeling and batting at the dangling toys with a kind of drugged abandon. My Pop Pop had bought me the store version. Sosa and Winters must have gotten medical grade.  The tinkling of chimes filled the air and we all cried out in pained hysterical giggles.  Those weren’t regular mobile toys dangling above us.  I felt my whole body spasm and I laughed until I couldn’t breathe.  Suffice it to say, there was no longer a dry diaper in the room after that first one.   I inhaled deeply and pulled myself back up to all fours. “Game idea!” I called out. “Ninja baby!  Try not to make the bells go off! Those are ninja alarms!” There were nods of consent and excited smiles all around.  Everyone started crawling on their hands and knees, swerving and sliding and ducking so as not to make the bells go off again. Winters was watching at the entrance, nodding her approval. Either we hit the bells and were reduced to giggling crawlers with no equilibrium, or we got very comfortable and proficient with crawling.  This was a win-win for her. Chaz was remarkably good at it, too.  He was a fish among dogs in this setting. He darted in and out and around us with the greatest of ease.  The rest of us could ‘swim’, but we might as well have been on our backs and sucking our thumbs by comparison. The second level was accessible by an inclined plane from the first level.  It wasn’t made of the same overly comfortable stuff as the first level and I found the strength and willpower to ascend on two feet.  Tackling dummies glided swiftly and quietly from side to side like giant foosball figures.  One could charge through them and dodge their not quite gentle shoves in order to slide down a fire pole outside to the floor.  Or they could turn ninety degrees and crawl out onto a rope net that was suspended over the ballpit.  I turned left and crawled out onto the net.  It swayed lightly but it was anchored well enough so that it didn’t threaten to envelope me like a hammock might.  Hanging upside down by her knees was Mandy, and she was dangling over the ballpit.  I only knew it was her because I recognized her sneakers. Her dress had fallen down over her face and exposed her diaper to everyone.  Some combination of the dress’s cut, Mandy’s natural body shape, and dumb luck kept her breasts covered.  I was mildly surprised that she hadn’t been quietly corrected yet.  Perhaps that was because Sosa was preoccupied giving Billy a juice box and checking his diaper.  I watched him take the big box of juice and try to climb back up into the ball pit.  Sosa looked like she was about to warn him of something, but then stopped herself.  The stairs were steep; more like an inferior ladder than true stairs.   Billy tried to climb the stairs, but kept stopping short, unable to climb and maintain his grip on his beverage.  The attached slide wasn’t any better and incredibly slick besides.  I doubt any of us could scale that miniature monstrosity.  Billy settled for chugging down apple juice quicker than a grown man should, tossed it away in the waste paper basket and charged the stairs. In the meantime, Sosa had already taken Annie into her lap and pressed a bottle to her lips. Annie’s eyes widened and then looked past the nipple in disbelief.  “IT’S CHOCOLATE MILK!” she shouted and then started taking greedy pulls from the bottle. A cry of “Chocolate?!” went up from every mouth.  When your choice of cuisine is capped off at Kindergarten, chocolate milk becomes the new tequila. The bounce house emptied out.  Billy climbed back out of the ballpit. The obstacle course was being abandoned, too, but not before several more jingling disorienting rattle toys were tripped in my classmates’ haste.  Mandy laughed so hard she fell headfirst into the ballpit.  I lost my footing and somehow got tangled up in the netting and was suddenly dangling just as Mandy had been.   “Stop, stop, stop!” Sosa giggled and shooed them away.  “It’s Annie’s turn now. If other people want a treat, you’ll have to wait your turn.” “Me next!” Billy predictable called. “You’ll wait your turn, Mr. Billy,” Sosa said. “I’ll call you and offer you a treat. Now go play.” Tommy pressed the point so I didn’t have to.  “What if we’re busy?”  Sosa gave a very nonchalant, very Beouf-like shrug. “You can always say no. If you’re too busy, you’re too busy.” “But what if I want chocolate milk?” “Then that’s your choice.” This was another subtle power play. You could either choose to drink milk from a bottle, or you could choose to play on the indoor playground.  Either choice was decidedly juvenile. But the fact that each Little chose that activity reinforced it in their mind as acceptable.   “Go play,” she said again, shooing the crowded Littles away.  They dispersed.  I waited till Mandy was out of the way and took my own head first plunge.  I swam-climbed back up to the top, and made eye contact with Sosa.  She was cradling Annie, now, and smiling lightly down at her.  She tore her eyes away from the girl, long enough to confirm that I hadn’t broken my neck. We nodded at each other and I continued on my way. “Hey, Gibson!”  Billy called. “Bet you can’t do a flip!”   I proceeded to meet Billy over at the bounce house and proved him wrong.  We never actually settled that dispute, truth be told.  Billy insisted that I couldn’t do a flip because every time I wound up on my butt instead of on my feet.  I couldn’t turn fast enough to stick the landing.  Billy could and wouldn’t let me live it down. “You’re gettin’ old, Gibson! You’re gettin’ old!” I smiled and whispered back.  “Your goddamn right I am!” We laughed and came to the compromise that while Billy was the superior acrobat, I was at least somewhat competent at the skill. On some level, it was disconcerting how easily I was reconnecting with Billy and the other A.L.L.ers.  Two weeks prior I’d written them off and had the closest thing to an adult fight with them.  But here we were, chumming around again as if I wasn’t a hypocritical traitor and they weren’t the monsters that I’d created. That’s the thing about childhood that I think a lot of people take for granted.  You can blow up and curse out and swing on your worst enemy.  But children don’t have the same freedom of association that adults do. I couldn’t quit my job or keep to myself. My classmates were my cell mates, and familiarity breeds tolerance in addition to contempt.  You could hate someone but circumstances still required that you do business with them. And I didn’t really hate Billy, did I?  I didn’t really hate anyone in my class, teacher or student. As the weeks turned to months, most of my rage at individual people had burned itself down or worked itself out. That’s the hidden blessing of being stuck as a child. No matter how many times I hurt someone or they hurt me, leaving is never really an option.  You get to be judged by the whole of experiences you’ve given, not just your worst day. Adults sometimes get only one strike before someone is out of their life forever.   I got off the bounce house, my own inner monologue clouding my joy.  I definitely wasn’t over Misty Brook, and my brain had picked just the wrong time to remind me.   “Clark?” Winters asked. “You okay, bubba?”  She took a soft washcloth out of her pocket and mopped my face with it. I wasn’t dripping but a light sheen of sweat had formed on my brow. “You look hot.  Maybe get some juice?”  She unbuttoned some of the buttons around my collar. I was hot. I was doing amateur aerobics, while still dressed for chilly weather in a crowded and stuffy room.  I nodded. “Juice sounds good, yeah.” I waddled over to the open chest and dug out a juicebox.  I started gulping down apple juice. Again, Sosa was eyeballing me, even while she was lightly bouncing Sandra Lynn on her knee. My skin crawled the way a mouse does when it senses a snake nearby.   Chaz and Tommy were playing in the ballpit, now completely nude save for the diapers.  Jessie had just exited the double decker after having been battered by a bunch of dummies and Winters was already unbuckling his heavy denim overalls.   I finished the juice and crushed the box, briefly pretending that I had Ivy level strength.  Sandra-Lynn slid off of Sosa’s knee and Sosa motioned me over. “Clark? Do you want a treat?” I shook my head and maintained a pleasant demeanor. “No thank you.  I’m kind of full right now.” “Are you sure?” she coaxed me. “You might not get another chance.” I nodded. “I understand, ma’am.” She crooked her finger and beckoned me closer so she could whisper.  “Are you sure? Don’t tell anybody but I made sure yours is coffee.” Coffee, a way to differentiate myself from my peers, and a secret?  Beouf had clearly put a lot of detail in my file over the break and Sosa had done her homework. I was in her lap before I knew it and sucking down the sweet decaf concoction several hours before I was scheduled to.  Amazon 101: How to make giving in feel like victory. She should have saved me till last, though.  Being in her lap put me back on guard, and drinking down bean juice gave me time to think and notice things that I might have otherwise taken for granted: Things like how the boys were getting progressively more naked and the resentful looks being thrown at them from the girls.   I slowed my flow and leaned back into Jasmine Sosa’s arms. She hummed softly and wrapped her arms around me the same way I tended to squeeze Lion…minus the rib crushing, of course.  I noticed Winters repositioning Mandy and praising her for hanging back upside down again and being brave. I swallowed down the last of the caramel and mocha concoction just as Shauna was being helped out of her stretchy sweatpants.   But things didn’t really click until I was repositioned over Sosa’s shoulder and she started patting my back.  Two or three healthy belches into it, I looked down to see a changing mat right next to the desk and Ivy being laid down on the floor. I cried out before the tapes on Ivy’s diaper. “WHOAH WHOAH WHOAH!”  I struggled and squirmed in Sosa’s lap.  She was caught off guard enough to allow me to slip out from her grasp and plant my feet on the floor.  “Why are you doing that here and not in the closet?” I knew the answer before I voiced the question.  I was such an idiot!  They were still trying to condition us.  “They’re trying to desensitize us!” I realized. “Lap time and getting manhandled! Bottle feeding! Being naked! Getting changed in public!”  Tommy and Chaz sunk down to their necks in the ballpit.  Mandy fought gravity to keep her dress up.  Jessie and Shauna were stretching out their shirts and looking ashamed. “They’re not trying to give us extra fun, they’re trapping us here so we don’t have any way out.” “Guys,” Sosa said, trying to re-establish control. “There’s nothing here that we all haven’t seen before. Nothing to be embarrassed about.” Winters started changing Ivy, talking to the rest of us while she was wiping the girl down.  “The lap stuff is just so we can keep track of the bottles, and changing you in here is more efficient. Saves time and lets you play longer.” As technically correct as that might have been, I wasn’t buying it, and neither were the others.  “Um…actually…” Annie stepped up, her face blushing.  “Could I please asked to be changed…in private?”  She cupped her hands together and whispered something in Sosa’s ear.  Sosa blinked but nodded.  “No problem, honey.  We’ll take care of it.  We’ll change you in the closet.”   “Can I get changed in the closet?” Tommy jumped in. Sosa frowned and her face twitched like she was slamming down on her own impulse to say ‘no’ and searching for a more nuanced refusal.  I wasn’t a doctor, but I guessed Annie was having a problem that even Sosa could relate to as a woman.  In doing so, however, Sosa had inadvertently tipped her hand. It wasn’t about efficiency, it was about desensitization.   Beouf and Zoge almost always left the bathroom door wide open when changing us, but the bathroom and activities were positioned as such that we’d have to actively try to see one another at our most vulnerable.   Out here? On the floor? Surrounded by play equipment?  We’d have to actively try not to see it. I think that was the point. “Yeah, no offense,” I piled on, “but I’d prefer it if only Amazons got to see my bare butt.”  “You don’t have to look,” Winters defended herself. “Just keep playing and don’t look.”  There was a nearly predatorial glint in her eye. “Or can you not keep your eyes to yourself?”  Another binary choice where compliance was manufactured. The line meter was tipping past the point of ‘Typical’ and towing the line towards ‘Classic’.   I rolled my eyes at the blatant attempt of  normalization.  “Excuse me, Miss Winters, but I feel like you shouldn’t be talking while you’re wiping Ivy’s ass.  It feels rude and you should try to make more eye contact with her.” “Clark!”  Billy was in before I could get scolded.  “Yeah, I don’t want anybody seeing how big my dong is!” “Billy…” “Not even Annie?” Sandra-Lynn asked, innocently. “Sandra-Lynn!” “Dude,” I jumped in. “I’ve worn your type of diapers. I know how they fit and feel. It’s mostly padding down there.” “Clark that’s not…” “Shut up, Gibson!” “Billy, we don’t say…” “Okay, prove me wrong,” I waved over to the changing mat.  Ivy was just getting taped up.  “Have Miss Jasmine change you. Right now.” “You first!” “Boys…” “No! I just told Miss Jasmine that I wanted to be in the closet!” “You would, Gibson!” “Billy! Clark!” Billy stood whirled around and stared indignantly at Sosa. “What’d I do?!” Sometimes I don’t give Billy enough credit. He could be as sharp and as blunt as a box of bowling balls, but when it came to malicious compliance and playing dumb for one’s own benefit, there were times when Billy sometimes surpassed even me.  He couldn’t pull off quiet and devilishly innocent, but he was the master of loud and obnoxious. We weren’t even arguing with each other as much as doing an improvisational bit meant to rattle the Amazons.  In shouting at one another we were taking the attention and the control away from the giantesses. And I hadn’t forgotten how much she hated ‘students’ calling her by her first name.  That and her eye tended to twitch every time Billy called me ‘Gibson’.  I think Billy noticed it too. Fuck it. Beouf and Zoge were off limits, but the therapists were still fair game in my eyes. I was going to get tossed into time out and then I’d weasel my way back into Beouf’s room for a change and chill session.  Yeah, I’d already been exposed in front of other Littles, but a bunch of relative strangers at Little Voices hit different than the people I saw and interacted with five times a week. “Yeah, Jazzie!” I piped in. “What’d he do?” “Gibson was the one wanting to compare dong size!” “No Gibson was not!” I rebuked. “I’m just saying that pride cometh before the disappointment!” “Shut up, Gibson!” “Make me!” Sosa finally snapped. “Children! Enough!”  She rose up to her full height and towered over all of us.  “It’s just a diaper change! There’s nothing to be embarrassed about! Get over it!” “But Miss Jasmine!” I whined “No buts, Clark,” she cut me off. “And you know I don’t like being called that. Or should I call you Mr. Grange again?” Knowing or not, Billy came in with the assist.  “Ha! She’s got you there, Gibson.” “Billy,” Winters gently chided now that she was done changing Ivy. “‘Gibson’ isn’t Clark’s name either. And we should call everyone by their names, shouldn’t we?”  If I could have pumped my fist in success and gotten away with it, I would have. “But Miss Winters,” I rose my hand like the good Little boy I was posing as. “Gibson is my name.” “Nicknames don’t count,” Jasmine cut me off. “And that’s all that ‘Gibson’ is anymore.” She said it with such conviction that it took everything I have not to crack a smile.  “Actually…” I said softly and meekly, “It’s not a nickname. It’s my real name. Just look it up.” “I’m not dignifying that with a response,” came Sosa’s reply.  But she was too close to tripping my trap not to poke.  “Why not, Ms. Sosa?” I feigned politeness. “It’s true!  And today’s a play day, so it’s not like you’re wasting any time.” Sosa wasn’t having any of it.  Winters was. She was already scooting the small stack of diapers away from the monitor so that she could log into the school’s student database. “I’m not saying that your name wasn’t Gibson,” Sosa said with extreme practice and patience barely covering up her seething anger. “I’m just saying that that’s not who you are anymore.” “Yes it is,” I insisted.  My eyes flicked from Sosa to her girlfriend standing behind her clicking on file after file.  “Jasmine…”  Winters said softly. “I’m not arguing with you about this Mr. Grange.” That name didn’t have nearly as much impact on me as it had before. Beouf clearly hadn’t updated my records since Solstice.   “Neither am I,” I said. “There’s nothing to argue about.  My name is Clark Gibson.” Winters turned around and tried to tap her partner on the shoulder. “Jasmine.” “No, it’s Clark Grange.” “It can be both.” “No it can’t!” “Jazz!” Sosa stomped her feet and turned all the way around. “WHAT, MAX?!” “Clark’s telling the truth.”  Winters said. She tapped the screen. “Look.” She read the information on the screen silently, but turned around looking completely bewildered.  Her lips were still moving as she said it over and over again to herself.  She made no noise but I could read her lips as though I were reading her thoughts. “Clark Gibson Grange…” I beamed, feeling victorious.  “Billy just likes calling me by my middle name,” I said. “I don’t mind it. I know he’s being respectful.” Billy started doing his best impression of a fish out of water.  “Wha…? Really? Why didn’t you…?  Really?  When?” I folded my hands behind my back and rocked on my heels. “When my Mommy took me to the courthouse.” “This whole time?” Sosa asked. “Really?” I nodded.  “Mhm!  I’ve always been Clark Gibson!  Just now I’m Clark Gibson Grange.”   The two were so confused that all of the outrage drained right out of them and we were all quietly sent back to play.   The funny thing is that I had lied by omission. Janet’s heartfelt spur of the moment Solstice present had been taking me all the way back to the courthouse, waiting in line and changing my name again. (I did say it was complicated, didn’t I?) It was her own way of acknowledging me. The best part is, that there was almost no way for Sosa and Winters to tell that I was bluffing.  The school records wouldn’t go that deep.  They’d see that my profile got edited as soon as school started but there’d be no obvious way to tell from their end what had been changed. Even if they did, it would be easy to assume that my Mommy had just forgotten to enter my middle name when I’d been re-enrolled as a student.    Gaslighting gaslighters. The gift that keeps on giving. Did it shatter their realities? Did it change how they perceived me and other Littles or alter our power dynamic in any significant way?  Of course not. Yet for a moment they both felt small and stupid and like they didn’t actually know how the world actually worked.   Not bad for having just gotten back from a two week vacation and being the sweetest most charming Little boy in the world, right?