Kat5

Guilend, you're fun and we like you. So we poke at you because it is fun and we like you. We are littles, we are not overly complex creatures.

Best of luck to you, and I hope dearly that you can get a sneak in a bit of rest!

I've been working on it in what little downtime I have. But if we can double up and still blame Guilends thousand yard googly stare got my chronic sleep deprivation, then I'm all for it!

Chapter Fifty Six Amanda looked the LPS inspector in the eyes and held out her hand to offer a shake. As the woman took her own hand, Amanda nodded and said “Welcome to our home, I’m glad to meet you. Would you like a cup of coffee?” With barely any attention to a haphazard handshake, the woman said matter of factly: “No.” And she immediately stepped around Amanda to put the diaper bag onto the counter without much ado. Turning with the clipboard up now, she started immediately. “So your paperwork shows that you claim your son is Toddler level maturity?” A bit caught off guard by the suddenness of it, Amanda could only nod and say “Yes Ma’am.” “Mm.” Was all the curt response that the LPS agent even bothered to make while writing on her clipboard. And then she just … started going through the house, beginning with the kitchen. Having a bad first impression, Amanda went to her desk, picked up her phone and texted her Mother immediately. Her message was simple and quickly typed “Being inspected” Then she went over and knelt next to John who was crawling back into the couch cushion fort and tapped him as she knelt down. Goddess, he looked so scared as he looked up into her eyes that she couldn’t help but scoop him up into a hug. Whispering into his ear “Don’t worry sweety, it’s all fine. You’re going to be perfect. Do you want to stay in the living room, or hide in Fort Dogbreath?” He immediately whispered back “Can I draw in fort Dogbreath?” Before setting him back down directly into Fort Dogbreath, she gave him a kiss on the forehead and quickly walked to his bedroom, got his smallest drawing pad and his two most used pencils, and delivered them to him over the top of the cushions. Her phone vibrated in her back pocket, so she pulled it out and took a quick peek after taking a glance to make sure that the LPS agent was still just pulling on every single drawer and cabinet handle. Mom had sent back “What’s the agents name?” Typing back quickly “Karen something hard to spell. Quay-Sho?” The immediate response was “Quaetio?” “That sounds right.” She could see her Mother already typing a response when she heard from in the kitchen. “Miss Taylor.” It was not a question, it was a summons. So as her Moms response popped up on the screen she slipped the phone back into her back pocket and walked quickly back into the kitchen. Before letting Amanda even ask what she needed, Karen started speaking. “Your kitchen itself passes inspection, the installation crew did well. I have some questions.” Amanda started to ask “Sure wh…” Karen talked over her “You have no high chair, and I see two booster seats, one blue and one pink. Explain.” “Oh, my friend comes by a couple times a week with her little. She..” “I see. Does she also claim that her little is a toddler?” “Well, Yes Ma’am, she was inspected and tes…” “Two littles that both happen to be toddler level maturity is a bold claim, but not unheard of. As long as that’s the case, then the booster seats are acceptable.” “Thank yo..” “I will be testing him myself to determine his eligibility for toddler status.” “Well, yes. That’s alw…” “Moving on, I see these pickles in the corner and the jars are still very warm. You make them here.” “Yes Ma’am, I have a bit of a garde…” “When you make these pickles, is your son safely in view at all times, or in the playpen?” “Yes Ma’am, I have a clear view of him at all times when I make these pickles.” It was not a lie. “And what else do you make?” Amanda had to think fast to respond “Oh well, I make tomato sauce, my friends help me make salsa. Mr Frank Tempes comes by on Friday mornings to pick up … Interupting her yet again, Karen asked “Frank Tempes the weatherman?” “Well Yes Ma’am, we met when I had a stall at the farmers market some yea..” “Moving on, I see that you have a loud dog. Barking dogs can interrupt a littles sleep.” Unable to stop herself from smirking, Amanda responded with “He only barks at new people that he does not trust.” Completely missing the verbal jab, she continued “Is your dog trained AND certified for work with littles.” Standing up just a bit taller as she looked up at the taller woman, Amanda answered confidently “Xerxes is trained to work with littles, he is certified to protect them, AND he was able to assist an ABI agent with a search and rescue operation on the nearby river.” Completely unimpressed, the response was a cold “You will show me your dogs paperwork after your home inspection.” And just like that Karen walked over to the laundry room door and intentionally pushed on the door itself below the doorknob to see if it was latched before turning the knob to open it and peak inside. With no more than what seemed like a momentary glance inside the room, she shut the door and gave it a push to make sure that it had latched firmly. Walking behind the LPS agent, all Amanda could really do was just … watch. Moving to the next door, the Agent tested it in the same way before opening it to see the spare bedroom. This time she walked in, but before Amanda could even follow her into the room, she was coming back out and shutting the door. Next up was the bathroom, which was between the two bedrooms. Amanda glanced over to see that John still seemed to be in his pillow fort, and through the window she could see Xerxes, that she had intentionally left outside on the porch. Xerxes had his front paws on the window ledge and was standing as upright as he could and was staring at the LPS agent. Clearly Xerxes did not like this woman. Looking back at Karen, she was finishing her inspection of the installation of the child gate and despite her very gruff manner, she nodded in satisfaction that the bathroom seemed safe enough. Opening the gate to walk into the bathroom, Amanda stood near the doorway, but did not go inside. “Miss Taylor.” the agent called from within. “Yes Ma’am?” “Would you care to join me?” Not trusting the circumstances, Amanda shook her head no and answered “My son is not in the playpen, I never leave the room when he isn’t in it.” There. She gave a second nod of approval. Maybe she wasn’t actually mean, jus…. “Then place him in the playpen where he belongs and we can continue.” Nope. She’s still just mean. Going around the couch, as she approached the pillow fort, John was already waiting with his drawing pad and two pencils in hand and holding his arms up. As she got him under the arms, she whispered “You’re listening?” While walking to the playpen he whispered back “Hard not to, she’s louder than the dog.” Before she put him down, she asked “Hey, you know something?” He looked up at her with those glassy eyes as he asked “What?” With a kiss on the forehead, Amanda whispered “I Love you. What are you drawing?” John simply bit his lip. “John?” He looked away as he held up the drawing pad and she could see that he had already sketched out a woman wearing the same clothes as Karen, and with the same hair style, but the one he had drawn had horns and a barbed tail and was holding Argo McDerpus out at arms length. He worked fast in the last fifteen minutes. “John, please … don’t … just flip to the next page when we come back through.” He simply nodded as he settled into the playpen. Amanda made certain to go get Rupert and Argo and put them both into the playpen with him before going into the bathroom. As soon as Amanda walked in, Karen started “Your bathroom itself passes inspection. Your soap tray is on the wall, why is the bar of soap on the side of the bath tub?” Trying to think fast Amanda shrugged and said “Sometimes I leave it there.” Again immediate in her response “Don’t. I see bubble bath and extra towels all within reach. I’m sure you don’t let him try to shower on his own. Does he have age appropriate bath toys?” Nodding, Amanda answered “He has a couple of little boats and a shark. He apparently knows all about boat designs.” “Cute.” was all she said, coldly, as she turned to walk out of the room. Amanda quickly put the soap back on the soap tray and turned to follow her. Coming out of the bathroom, she could see Karen was already opening the door to Amanda’s bedroom, seeming to scan the room with her eyes for almost a minute, and then simply shutting the door. Then she came to Johns room. Stepping just into the doorway as Karen went through Johns room with a fine tooth comb, she felt beyond self conscious that Johns sheets were in the washing machine and the side was down. But thankfully Karen didn’t seem to mind that as she started opening the drawers in the dresser and scanning the contents to see if she approved of his selection of clothing. Leaning back from the door to gaze at John in his playpen, still doodling quietly. At a glance, Amanda felt confident about having put him in a shirt and shortalls that morning. Although the socks she had put on him had come off. Mysteriously. As she walked back into Johns bedroom, Karen didn’t even look up from her inspection of the small closet, specifically scribbling down notes of what diapers were in there as she squinted to see the labels. “Miss Taylor, this room is largely up to specifications. Does your son not require a night light to sleep?” She half observed out loud, and only half asked. Shaking her head, Amanda answered “No Ma’am, he sleeps just fine with the light off.” Without even acknowledging the answer, Karen continued “And I must, at least begrudgingly applaud you for your variety of diapers. I always prefer to see a package of crawlers to help keep littles under control until they learn their place in our dimension, but it is not a legal requirement.” “I’ll … consider that?” Amanda hadn’t even finished before Karen was out of the room. Following along quietly, She could see Karen walk right past the playpen without even a glance at John or what he was doing as she walked to the door. Karen started reaching for the screen door, but stopped as she noticed Xerxes. Xerxes was silently staring at her. He was not barking. He was not snarling. He was sitting just outside the range of the opening door and staring at her. Karen left the door shut and pointed through the glass, seeming like she was trying not to acknowledge the dog at all. “Miss Taylor, you have an impressive garden, but there is very limited space for a little to play. What do you intend to do about that?” Now it was Amanda’s turn to go on the offensive. Instead of answering, she simply went to her desk and grabbed Johns sketch of the expanded back yard, a piece of paper where her father had quoted her for the materials, and the referral from Agent Praefectus for a company that could install the fence. (Karen didn’t need to know that the install would be half price.) Walking right past Karen, she laid everything out on the island counter between the kitchen and the living room and simply pointed. It was nice to at least have one up on this irritating woman. Coming over and taking a look, Karen seemed to only need ten seconds to find something to complain about. “I see that you intend to get a play house. And that is fine, but why is it behind the garden? You should have immediate access to him at all times.” Amanda shrugged and tried to be nonchalant about her reply. “This is a rough sketch, but the idea is to get one of those little play houses where the roof comes up for us to have easy access to him, and put it somewhere along this fence. The artist took some creative freedoms.” “Mm.” came the one syllable response yet again. Letting Karen look for something else to complain about, Amanda went back to her desk and retrieved her paperwork on Xerxes training, as well as a piece of paper that her Mother had left. Sure enough, in the minute she was away, Karen had another complaint. “Do you spend much time on the porch, and are you planning to put a mesh wall at knee height to keep him from falling off of it?” Shaking her head, Amanda answered frankly. “No Ma’am, he is not allowed on the porch without adult supervision, and the one time he tried to wander onto the porch, Xerxes pulled him back inside by his shirt. He has not even attempted it since.” “Mm.” That one syllable response was starting to get REALLY grating. It managed to sound both dismissive and condescending at the same time. Amanda began to day dream of Xerxes chasing this woman across the field while she drank coffee and watched the show. After another moment to read the paperwork on Xerxes, the same paperwork that made it so that no LPS agent could legally complain about a dog being in the house with a little without opening up themselves to lawsuits from the trainers, she picked up the paper that her Mom had left. After reading it, she barely managed to hide a scoff as she asked “Did you have him evaluated by someone?” Amanda kept her face as neutral as she could, careful to hide her urge to make the taller woman eat the piece of paper as she answered: “Yes Ma’am. If he is going to participate in a study in the natural progression, or regression in this case, of Rift littles in our dimension, it’s important to have a starting point and know how he progresses over time.” “Mm.” Amanda took a slow breath. A mental image of John riding Xerxes as he chased her through the field, throwing carrots at her as she ran away helped to keep a polite smile on her face. In her mental image she was now in a lounge chair drinking from a coconut with a straw in it. Cat and her son were starting to rub off on her. “Miss Karen do you have any further questions?” With one single shake of her head, Karen pointed to the playpen and said “Not for you. Bring him to the table and put him in his booster seat. It’s time to see if he actually is as smart as a toddler, or if he’s just a talented infant.”

FWI: I appreciate your willingness to avoid using Post Script (P.S) and Post Post Script (P.P.S) so that we can't make PPs jokes. You are truly setting a good example for all of us as a big.

That dog is a real life hero, and I hope that it gets all of the loving and spoiling forever!

I think this is a very good chapter. And I am envious of the Severe chronic insomnia makes me envious of the unawake.

Guilend is basically our own local meme. I mean, look at those googly eyes.

Thank you very ... *gets distracted eating grapes*

All very good points! Kudos for paying attention to the exact setup of the upcoming scene! Of course, you have cheated by paying attention, but I'll let it slide just this once. ... as long as you bribe me with grapes.

Refrigerator boxes were always the very best! We drew a house on the outside of one and a little fireplace on the inside.

I completely agree with you that this would be a red flag to be nervous about! But a big part of this story is that even though Amanda is undoubtedly one of the beat of her kind to be stuck with, she is still an Amazon. That's kind of a part of the mechanics here. I'm honestly pretty happy with it, too! We used to use sheets to make makeshift tents off the back of the couch to bar stools and pretend to be camping out. Simple enjoyment is the beat enjoyment. Thank you very kindly! I feel like I'm working extra hard to avoid the obvious John's Pickle jokes. I promise that the delays are not on purpose. Life has not been overly understanding as of late. Xerxes was alarm barking. First time in this story he's barked at anything other than the squirrel. This is on porpoise. We shall have to see together! I could use this comment ti stir up Guilend and tease him. But just this once I wont.

Chapter Fifty Five Amanda stood next to the table where John was in his booster seat, still arguing about breakfast. “John. Please, just eat it.” She pleaded. With a deep breath, he blurted out “But it looks like play dough with cinnamon!” “It’s high in iron.” “So are nails, and I don’t eat those!” With a deep, calm breath she tried to explain “It’s got lots of fiber, and aside from the morning when you have coffee, you aren’t going regularly.” He just sat there blinking up at her for a moment before looking down at the bowl, and then up at her and asked “So I have to eat this specifically to turn it into poop?” Amanda felt her entire body trying to go limp with frustration combined with the overwhelming urge to laugh. “John. Just … John.” He picked up the spoon and used the back of it to smack the substance in the bowl and motioned at the indentation that stayed in the contents with both hands and both eyebrows raised. As soon as her phone rang, she took the opportunity to disengage from the sassy little. With a quick glance at the caller ID, she answered “Hello Mr Tempes!” She heard a chuckle and the response “Hello to you too, Miss Taylor. I see that we are still starting conversations with our last names after all these years. How are you today?” With one dirty glance over her shoulder at John, she responded “I’m doing mostly well. I’m trying to make a little eat Malt-O-Meal and he’s just not having it, though.” “Huh. Did you try putting it on some toast yet?” Without even bothering to answer, she pinned the phone to her shoulder and got a slice of bread in the toaster before answering “In two minutes I will have.” Mr Tempes elaborated a bit “Well, putting it on some buttered toast should help get it into him. Sprinkling a bit of sugar and cinnamon onto it should do the trick.” Getting butter out on the counter, she opened a cabinet and grabbed some sugar and a shaker of cinnamon. “Mister Frank, do you mind if I put the phone down for just a moment?” She asked “Take your time, I’m not in a rush.” Mister Frank always seemed patient about everything. Wasting no time, she buttered the toast, took the bowl from in front of John and spread some Malt-O-Meal onto the top. Pausing only to sprinkle a bit of cinnamon and sugar on top of the Malt-O-Meal, she slid the plate in front of John and said “Here, at least try that." It was obvious by his body language that he was skeptical to say the least, but he was apparently just smart enough to try it -before- complaining. Picking up the toast with both hands, he took a tentative bite of the corner … Amanda watched … He took another, much larger bite, and started chewing enthusiastically. Once he swallowed, he said excitedly “Hey, this stuff is good! You should have put this on toast from the beginning!” Amanda felt her right hand twitch as she looked at the ceiling above her while taking a deep, calming, breath. “Goddess give me strength.” she mumbled quietly to the ceiling. Refusing to speak for fear that she would wind up arguing with a sassy little about eating THE EXACT SAME THING HE JUST REFUSED … Amanda took another deep, calming breath before sliding the sippy cup full of apple juice closer to him and picking up her phone. With a massive effort to try to keep the frustration out of her voice, she said “Mister Frank, that worked like a charm!” “Miss Amanda, I’m glad that it worked. You sound like you’re struggling with a little this morning.” His reply left her realizing that the frustration was still in her voice. One last calming breath and she admitted “Yeah, sorry about that. Someone feels a lot better today and he’s got more energy to be sassy with. So what can I do for you today?” “Well, as it happens, I think we need to talk about your pickles.” “Oh? Is there something wrong with the last batch?” Laughing a bit, he answered “No, quite the opposite. Once word got out that you made the pickles for littles with your son, I sold out of them by lunchtime. Would you be willing to make nothing but the pickles for littles this week? Maybe figure out a label for them?” “Huh.” that took Amanda a moment to process “I … guess that actually makes things easier on my end. And I suppose I could just take an outline of his hand or … yeah, I have an idea for a label. Is everything else good?” “Absolutely! You make a bunch of pickles for littles and I’ll bring some extra milk crates to put them in. Oh, and just so you know, the weather today is going to warm up a bit and we’re going to have a great, but cloudy weekend.” “I’ll do that! Thanks for letting me know, and I’ll see you in the morning.” Amanda said before hanging up. Looking back over to the table, she spotted John. Finished with his breakfast and swinging his feet energetically while he idly drummed two different beats with his hands. As she watched, he tapped out “Tap-tap-tap-tappa. Tap-tap-tap-tappa” with one hand and was using his fingers with the other to tap out a faster rhythm that he changed and then changed back. He was wired, and he hadn’t even had his coffee milk yet. It took him the usual half an hour to wake up, and she gave him a bit of cold milk in a bottle. And when he woke up he just started talking and running. Moving over and leaning down to look at him, he stopped and smiled at her, but his feet kept swinging energetically. Finally rolling her eyes, she kissed him on the forehead and then wiped his dirty cheeks with a napkin before unbuckling him from the booster seat and turning him loose to run off to the living room with his sippy cup. Taking a minute to pour herself a cup of coffee, she cleaned the dishes and decided not to mention the coffee milk. If he didn’t ask, she wasn’t going to try to make him even more hyperactive. Going to her computer, she brought up a picture of John riding Xerxes in front of the garden. Just to keep from putting his face all over the place, she made the entire thing just a bit out of focus until it was only obvious that it was a little in a shirt and diaper riding a black and white collie. With a moment to fight with the printer because she had not changed a single thing since she last used it, it had decided that she had completely changed to a different label paper and refused to let her print until she gave up and let it do an update. Printers. Having turned her back on him for over a minute she looked back at the couch to see him standing on it and waddling back and forth while trying to read his book on his tablet at the same time. “John!” she fussed loudly. Immediately he flopped onto his butt without looking away from his tablet. He obviously knew he shouldn’t be standing on the couch, let alone walking on it. Walking over to the couch she picked him up and moved him to his playmat. The second he took a step on the playmat, he fell safely onto all fours. Thank the Goddess that he hadn’t fallen like that and tumbled off the couch. “John, no walking on the couch or you go into the playpen. Do you understand?” For his part he had the decency to look sheepish as he looked down and said “Yes Ma’am.” Amanda had a hunch that this was going to be a long day. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After about ten minutes of trying to sit still, John gave up, put his tablet down and climbed on top of Xerxes, who had no trouble standing up on the four inch thick squishy playmat. Patting him on the ribs, Xerxes stood up and John practiced getting him to turn and managed to steer him around the couch and into the kitchen when Mom came out of the utility room where she was getting some laundry washing. “John?” she called when she didn’t see him in the living room. Immediately he started trying to climb off of Xerxes, because he wasn’t supposed to be ‘playing horse’ i.e. riding the dog like a horse indoors. He just got his feet on the floor as she came around the counter and exclaimed “John! What are you doing in the kitchen!?” “Ummm…” thinking quickly he came up with an excuse “Where are those doggy breath mints? Xerxes has dog breath.” He watched her roll her eyes as she said “They’re dental treats. And he’s a dog, all dogs have … you know what, here.” She pulled a jar from against the wall and opened it up and handed him a couple of treats as wide as his palm to feed to his buddy. Xerxes’ tail was already going ballistic as John said “Sit!” Xerxes’ butt went down, but his tail was sliding back and forth. Reaching out, John tried to balance a treat on Xerxe’s nose. Which lasted less than the blink of an eye as the treat disappeared into a very happy dog snout. Giving up on that, John simply held out his hand palm up and said “Gimme five!” It took him a couple of minutes to get Xerxes to mimic the motion of picking up his paw and putting it against his own palm, but after a few tries he held up the treat and said “Gimme five!” and when Xerxes gave him five, he also snapped up the treat faster than John could follow with his eyes. With that done, he tried to turn to walk to the living room, but Mommy grunted in disapproval and lifted him up under his arms before carrying him to the bathroom and sitting him on the side of the sink and making sure his hands were thoroughly washed. “Mom, I can … Mom, I can wash my hands. They weren’t even that dirty.” He tried to protest. But all he got was a kiss on top of the head and sat back down on the floor. With a swat to his bottom, he was told “I’m going to prep a lot of jars, and we’re going to make a bunch of pickles. Go burn off some of that energy while I get things ready.” Mumbling “I don’t have that much energy.” John reached up and grabbed the first of the three large couch cushions and pushed the couch with his foot while pulling with all his might until it came off of the couch. Dragging it over to the playmat, he OOF’d indignantly as he hit the playpen and tumbled ungracefully onto the mat with a large cushion on top of him. After a good several minutes, John had finally managed to get all three cushions off the couch with one standing upright against the wall underneath the big double window, one leaning against it at a right angle, and the third one propped up haphazardly with a gap for him to crawl through. All he needed was a roof. So crawling out of his makeshift fort, he went to his play… he went to THE playpen. Not his, he didn’t like being in it. Going to THE playpen, John grabbed the blanket resting on the side of it and went back to the playmat. This time he was incredibly careful and managed to walk most of the way to the pillow fort before he wound up on his knees. Crawling back inside, he found that half the space inside was already occupied by a very excited Collie. Taking the chance to climb on top of Xerxes, John managed to throw the blanket over the pillows and leave a gap by the window for light to come in. Now out of steam from the activity, he sat down and reclined against a furry side and looked around at his fort. With a smile, he took a deep satisfying breath. It smelled like success. … and dog breath. About that time he heard Mom calling him from the kitchen. “Oh JOHNNnnnnn … has anyone seen my son, John? A bit over four foot tall, never takes the couch apart while I’m working in the kitchen?” Calling back across the house by speaking loudly up at his blanket ceiling, he answered: “Resources were needed to found Fort … uhhh… Fort Dogbreath!” Then he mumbled to himself “Fort Dogbreath? That’s a terrible name.” But it was too late, he’d said it out loud, so he owned it. “Fort Dogbreath was established in three hundred A.D. to help the Squirrel Sentinels fend off the evil Chinchilla invasion. Their leader Steve is memorialized today by the annual reconstruction of the fort and then doodling Steve and his two femal squirrel companions.” “Uh huh. And will you be coming out of Fort Dogbreath to help with the pickles, or staying there and playing?” Immediately rolling forward to crawl out of the makeshift fort, John made his way to the edge of the mat and was picked up before he could even stand up on his own. Carried into the kitchen, he was pinned gently to the counter and both his and Mommy’s arms were washed up to the elbows and rinsed thoroughly before being dried. And then he was placed on the makeshift platform of chairs facing the counter. Instead of two sets of jars like last time, there was just one big pile of them and lots of little measuring bowls with scoops already in them. With a serious look, Mommy said “Okay, we’re just going to make a whole bunch of pickles for littles today. Do you remember how many of which ingredients go into each jar?” Simply nodding, he pointed bowl for bowl and said “One, one, one, two, and one big scoop of this one that looks like little ball things.” Mommy sprouted a big smile like she was proud over him remembering the details and she leaned to give him a kiss on the side of his head before saying “Well, if you would like, you can start adding the seasonings while I get the pickles rinsed off one more time.” Not having realized that his hyperactivity from this morning had mostly worn off, John wasted no time. With the counter top just above his waist, he could reach everything he needed to, even if grabbing some of the jars meant having to stretch really hard. Subconsciously moving everything from the right hand side of every bowl to the left so he could just grab it with the proper hand, he immediately started sliding a jar with his right hand and quickly adding the seasonings from the bowls. By the time he had slid the jar from one side of the counter to the other, he had all the ingredients in. Finishing all fifty jars in just a few minutes, he immediately got bored and decided to smell each ingredient out of curiosity. Most of them didn’t have a strong smell. Until he smelled the pickling spice that immediately made him snort and then start coughing when he got his nose right up to it. Mommy turned around with a giant tray of pickling cucumbers and stopped as she put them down to say “John …” He tried waving a hand dismissively and saying “Nothing happened” as he reached for some pickles to start putting into some jars. For a brief moment she reached over and caught his hand between her thumb and forefinger and looked him in the eyes. But after a moment he saw her just roll her eyes and let go. The next twenty minutes were actually quite pleasant, with the two of them silently filling jars, with Mommy putting most of the cucumbers in, and John tilting the jar over and just sticking his hand in and lining them all up and filling the last gaps with a few more cucumbers. With all that said and done, Mommy started putting stickers on the top and wrote down the date on the first one for him. Then she simply slid one in front of him and as he signed and dated it, she slid another one in, rinse lather repeat. Once that was done, she produced a sheet of vinyl stickers that she had printed and cut into six big labels per page. Staring for a moment, John could only blink as he saw the label. “Little Snackies” was on the top. And it was superimposed on a picture that was oh so slightly out of focus. It was a picture of a little on a black and white dog. He was on the label. “Ummmm……” He looked up to see her smiling down at him, she looked so proud. “I’m … on the label?” he asked. “Mm Hmm! The image has been blurred to protect Xerxes’ identity, of course.” Mommy somehow managed to say with a straight face. Now it was Johns turn to roll his eyes as he said “I’m telling Aunt Cat about that one.” Mommy then immediately scooped him up into a hug. As he was placed on the floor, he was swatted on the butt and told “You go back to Fort Dogbreath while I fill these with boiling brine and seal them.” With the sound of chairs being slid across the floor behind him, he made it to the playmat and finally remembered to stop and drop onto hands and knees instead of falling on his face. By the time he was back inside Fort Dogbreath, Xerxes had already made his way back in, and had managed to drag Argo in with him. Spending a moment to get Argo propped up against Xerxe’s back leg, and then propping himself up on the dogs foreleg, John pulled his tablet onto his lap and tried pressing his thumb into the spot three times before flipping it the correct way up where it worked immediately. With a satisfied sigh of “This is the life” he started reading ‘Littles Lost In Space’, pausing only when a sippy cup was lowered through the gap in the blanket ceiling and shaken annoyingly until he took the hint and started drinking from it. In fact: everything was going well, aside from his Rough Pup diaper hitting the point where he had to scoot around to spread his knees apart, when suddenly Xerxe’s head snapped up so fast that it actually Startled John. One second later, the collie was already standing and walking over John toward the gap between the cushions. A couple of seconds after that he could hear the dog scratching at the door and barking. By the time Mommy had opened the door and asked “What is it, you silly dog?” the sound of tires on gravel could be heard getting closer as a car came down the driveway. The next few moments were a blur as John watched from the opening of Fort Dogbreath. Mommy made a dash form the kitchen, to the bedroom, and back to the kitchen, swinging through the laundry room on the way. Ditry dish towels were launched into the hamper through the laundry room door. The child gate in the bathroom was swung shut and latched, her bedroom door was shut, his toddler cup he had left on his desk was carried out, fresh dish towels were grabbed from the Laundry room, which was then shut and latched, a towel was hung from stove, toddler cup was placed in sink, and coffee pot was turned on. Xerxes was still barking outside as all of the jars of pickles were shoved into milk crates and slid under a cabinet out of the way. Through the screen door, John could hear footsteps on gravel as Mommy walked over to him and knelt down while dipping his pacifier into an odd tin can and giving it a shake. When she took it out of the can she did shake and rub ‘most’ of whatever was in the can off of the pacy, leaving only a small amount on the bulb. He managed to ask “Mom, who’s here?” as she was already clipping the pacy to his shirt. Smiling down at him reassuringly, Mommy explained “I don’t know who exactly, but they’ve never been here and Xerxes is alarming. We are probably being inspected, since they haven’t done that yet. You just be yourself, and I need you to remember that if you start having a panic attack, grab Rupert and suck on this pacy. Can you do that for me?” Nodding mutely as he tried to absorb all of the information he had just been given, he felt a kiss on top of the head and heard a whispered “We’re going to be fine, go grab Rupert and hold him tight. He’ll keep you safe.” They could both hear a female voice calling “Hello?” form the distance, probably on the other side of the fence. As Mommy went outside to greet whomever the surprise visitor was, John quickly waddled for the bedroom, grabbed Rupert, and waddle-ran back to hide in Fort Dogbreath. As he hit the mat too fast and fell onto his knees he could see Mommy coming back inside, leading a woman almost a foot taller than her into the house. One look at this woman put even the oblivious John on edge. It wasn’t the dark gray business skirt and jacket. It wasn’t even her clipboard in her hand. It was a little bit the fact that instead of a purse, she had a diaper bag slung over her shoulder. No, what put John on edge was somehow the combination of her dark brown hair pulled back tightly into some sort of up-do with a pen sticking out of the top, and an expression on her face that somehow looked like she was faking a fake smile. The usually socially unaware John felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as this new woman locked eyes with him briefly. Without so much as acknowledging him, she looked at Mommy and said in a tone like she was conducting a business meeting. “I am Karen Quaetio, and I am here for you LPS inspection.”

Okay, I'm interested!

Listen. I maintain that aside from creating it and giving it to a madman, I am mostly free of blame for this entire situation. I'm a little. We are known for impulse control challenges.

I would 100.00% absolutely watch that film! I have my own hypothesis on giants size developing over countless generations and food with very high nutrient density. Which, for me, also helps to rationalized the commonly accepted longer lifespans and better baseline of average health. Still the same setting, but different authors have their own thoughts on certain topics. (Plus fresh sweet peas straight from the garden are amazing)

You have an interesting premise and start, I look forward to seeing what you have to share!

I don't even remember what we were talking about.

that profile picture doesn't look familiar to me. Let me get my glasses. Edit: Upon closer inspection, that does look a lot like my profile picture, and it certainly seems like a silly and impulsive thing a little would do. This warrants further investigation at a later time.

There is no easily found evidence to support this claim without having to go digging and reading the works and ramblings of crazy people. Therefore I am potentially innocent of mischief.

So listen. There's no clear record of where Guilends profile Pic came from. I mean, it was months ago. And as a little, I'm easily distracted and I have no recollection of where such a thing was shared at. (That said those googly eyes still haunt me as they stare into my soul and judge me for all the mischief I've been responsi... ADJACENT to and in no way responsible for.)

I ... ... I do this. ... constantly and proficiently.

This was my first time reading it, and I find it to be an incredibly good offering into the diaper dimension! I often lean toward the wholesome, and some of the more brutal parts I slimmef a bit, but thay just yells me how well written it was. My only critique is that Freya should have the title "The Fairy Bigmother"

"I don't know why these specific Littles sound so angry, but they're adorable in their little kilts!" Edit to add: "Ye may take me britches, ya giant lassie. But ye'll never take me freedom!"

Trying to write some on my lunch break today and for some reason Argo McDerpus sounds Scottish in my head. Amazonia doesn't have Scotland. I'm don't understand what goes on in my head.