Letting Go

[Personalias]

<I’m never letting go.> 

 That’s the promise that Molly had made Rebecca when they’d first met, and she’d meant it.  Of course she meant it. Very few toys could lie, especially ones given to children so young.  It’s exceedingly difficult to lie when the child whose magic gives you life doesn’t even understand the concept of lying.  

When Molly, stuffed kangaroo that she was, was given to little Rebecca , aged nine months, it was love at first sight. Literally.  Molly’s awareness began with the feeling of complete and total adoration for the child that held her in those chubby little arms. <I’m never letting go> she’d whispered deep in Rebecca’s brain as the not-quite-toddler cuddled and kissed the kangaroo in the same way that she was cuddled  kissed by Mommy and Daddy.

<I’m never letting go.>

And Rebecca, known affectionately as “Becky”, accepted it as fact in the same way that a nine month old accepted everything as fact.  So it became fact.

Rebecca was magic.  ALL children are magic.  All PEOPLE are magic. All people START magic.  It’s just that the magic fades into a collective reality when other people’s views begin impressing themselves on each other, forming a collective perception and reality.  

Fun fact that Molly had learned from older and wiser toys passed down through countless generations of <oral> history:  A thousand years ago the sun really did go around the Earth, simply because enough people agreed that it did.

And that same ability to affect reality yet lingered in every infant, toddler, and child to some degree or another.  It was an ability that faded over time as kids learned to listen to their parents and teachers so that they accidentally gave up their powers, thus adding to the collective truth that matter was anything that had mass and took up space or that for something to exist it had to be measurable.   

Yet something lingered in most people’s memories about this lost and atrophied ability.  It’s why invisible friends, closet monsters, and moving toys were such a common occurrence during childhood.  It’s why a certain animation studio had been able to make over half a dozen movies and animated shorts on the subject.  It’s why the foundation of most major religions was “childlike faith”. Everyone subconsciously- instinctively- KNEW about this.

Molly knew about it.  She was born knowing. She was born because of it.

<I’m never letting go.>

So great was Molly’s love that she made that unbreakable vow, that magical vow, and bound herself to the child that gave her life.  Becky hadn’t agreed to that bond, but the magic infused stuffie hadn’t needed her too. Becky had only been able to babble, giggle, and cry, but she had heard Molly Roo’s not-voice, and that was all that the kangaroo had needed to make it so.

In hindsight, Molly had once reflected, that might have been for the best.  If Molly had been given to her little girl even a few months later, Becky might have understood the concept of “no”, and then the bond might not have been quite so strong; a strength that both of them sorely needed.  

Then where would they be?  Babies were wonderful because you could protect them and keep them safe and happy and you didn’t have to ask permission to do so.  It was just your job and expected of you. Doing the right thing was easy when no one could object. The bond between them was as strong as ever and Molly had nothing but the purest love in every seam for Becky.

<I’m never letting you go.>

Molly kept her promise.  Almost eighteen years had passed and it was still going strong. Becky was still loved.  Still safe. Still cuddly and happy and silly and still without a care in the world. And why wouldn’t she be?  Circumstances hadn’t changed. Not one bit. Not the important ones, anyways.

For close to eighteen years now, Becky had never walked upright or eaten big girl foods or spoken more than a few scattered words that likely were little more than gibberish or identifiers to her:  Your “Mama” and “Dada”. Your “baba” and “di-di”. Your “Ni-Ni” and “hungee”. The basics. Of course “Mowwy” was a favorite that saw frequent use. “Emmygope” was another bit of babble that popped up every now and then. Molly had never been able to figure that one out, and her parents never noticed it.  The basics. Molly took care of the rest.   

Becky certainly had never so much as sat on a grown-up toilet, or even one of those plastic “big girl” potties. Instead, she got to see Molly smiling down at her while she was laid on her changing table five or six times every day, both of them giggling as Becky’s Mommy or Daddy changed her diaper. Only Becky ever heard Molly’s not-voice, though. 

Grown-ups didn’t generally believe in magic. Or talking kangaroo plushies. And especially not magical kangaroo plushies. They could be so so silly sometimes, Molly would often not-say to herself. They might not have believed in Molly, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be affected by her.  

They stopped noticing that Becky was getting bigger.  They never realized that Becky’s teething rings were something of a misnomer since she’d gone through a full set of teeth, lost those and grown another.  Those were just chewing rings now.  

Most parents might find it odd that their little one never grew out of Size 3 diapers, or that for some reason every pack in their shopping cart now expanded and the label changed so that Size 3 fit 31-36 inches instead of 16-28 pounds.

Common sense dictated that Mommy and Daddy should have found it funny that Becky was still 9 months old, even though her date of birth was close to two decades past.  Red flags should have been thrown high into the air that their precious baby girl who still slept in a crib and ate in a highchair had full formed breasts; or so common sense would suggest.

Fortunately, common sense and magic rarely interacted well with each other, and so the two just tended to politely nod and ignore each other.  How fortunate, then, it was that magic got to Becky first and never left. Neither Mommy, Daddy, Becky, or any of her sitters realized what was happening.  Even as Becky’s babysitters started coming from the ranks of former playmates, now getting ready to go to college, no one was the wiser.

Time (or the perception thereof) stood still for the happy family.  They’d always be like this. They’d always be happy. Because what was happier than a couple with their baby?  Nothing! That’s what! Why else would baby pictures exist other than to revisit happier times? But you didn’t need to take pictures of Disney Land if you lived there; and ever since Molly and Becky had been united, every day was Disney Land.

Becky wasn’t the only font of magic that Molly drew from.  Part of the magic came from Mommy, Daddy, and yes even the occasional sitter that only looked vaguely familiar now that they’d outgrown their own beloved plushies. Routine, when infused with magic and unquestioning belief became powerful rituals.

  Regular feeding times with spoons masterfully filling the roles of airplanes and choo-choos had their own magic.  As did the intimacy of a good game of peek-a-boo or a bubble bath (with Molly safely on the counter watching over it, of course).  Routines turned themselves into powerful self-sustaining rituals.

Changing time was a ritual the pair knew all too well; legs held up, bottom wiped nice and clean, baby powder cascading down, diaper balled up and thrown away into the pail to join dozens of others, fresh diaper taped on with a kiss on the cheek from Mommy or Daddy.

Being a baby’s constant companion, especially one so big would be a messy job by any standard, but Molly didn’t mind at all. Quite the opposite. She adored being a part of her baby’s daily care. Whether it was changing time, feeding time, a bit-too-rough playtime or nap time, Molly was there for all of it. 

And she never regretted a moment of it. Becky was always loved and always safe as her guardian had promised. It had been a bit of an extreme measure, Molly knew, to remake her Becky’s world this way. But the alternative was simply too horrible to bear thinking about…

She listened to Mommy and Daddy talk to each other. She read the news and surfed the net when the rest of the house was asleep. Molly knew what happened to kids who grew up: Tide pods!  Racism! Pornography! Money troubles! Sex! Politics! Disease! Drugs! R-Rated Movies!

The world was a scary place, and as people grew up, it became infinitely more dangerous, infinitely more depressing and infinitely less cute.  Never Becky though. Never Becky. Becky would never have to worry about things like paying rent, or getting pregnant, or who to vote for. Becky could just be who she’d always been: Her Mommy and Daddy’s precious bundle of silly little fun and the greatest, truest expression of Molly’s love.

Molly knew that love as Becky laid on her blankie in the middle of the living room floor.  The T.V. was playing PBS, but it was more or less just white noise between the beats of Becky’s babble, Mommy’s dish washing, and the random shaking of jingly or rattling things.

Becky was on her back holding Molly up at arm’s length, and babbling happily as she always did.  “Mowwy! Mowwwwwy! Mowwy! Maaaaaaah-weeeeee!”

Every day Becky looked at Molly like that, and Molly felt like the most beloved kangaroo in the world.  <Becky! Becky!> Molly said in her cooing not-voice. <You look so beautiful today! Have I told you that, sweet girl?  Molly loves you.>

“Mowwy, Mowwy, Mowwy.”

<Yes, yes, yes!> Molly not-chirped.  This not-conversation never got old for either them.  Another sort of ritual that only strengthened their bond.  <Can you help me hop?>

“Opp.”  It wasn’t a question.  Becky never questioned.  Uncertainty wasn’t a concept that applied to her.  “Opp! Opp! Opp! Opp-opp-opp-op-op-op-op-oooopp! Opp-opp!”

Molly smiled. 

<Yes, sweetie. “Hop-hop-hop!”  Are you ready for me to hop?> She was always smiling, due to the stitch pattern, but there were subtle differences that only Becky might notice.  Right now, the kangaroo was using her quiet but adoringly patient smile.

“Opp-oppa-oppa-opp-opppa-opp-opp-opp!”  More baby babble. Becky loved playing with mouth sounds, and reveling in the purest joys from both auditory and tactile aesthetics.  If she’d grown up, Becky might have been a poet or lyricist, perhaps a performer or singer. She might have learned to be a speech and language pathologist.  Maybe her acute awareness and appreciation of texture could have made her an award winning chef or a fantastic dentist. It might have also amounted to nothing but a quirk or a talent at tying cherry stems with her tongue.  Baby Becky could very well have grown up into” Bee-Jay Becky”.

  But that was the best part of babies like Becky.  Unlimited potential. At an eternal nine-months, Becky could be so many things that Rebecca would never get the opportunity to be.  Then again, Becky wouldn’t be able to eith-

Molly banished the thought in her mind as she lept skyward.  Becky had finally decided to make Molly “Opp-opp-opp!” and launched her towards the ceiling. 

<WHEEEEEEE!> Molly not-cheered as she tumbled end over end milliseconds before gravity took over and yanked her back down.  She tumbled into Becky’s waiting bosom and received the warmest of hugs and the silliest of ggles. <Again! Again! Again!>  Even with a nine month old’s limitations, Becky had gotten quite good at tossing and catching her favorite toy.  

As was the ritual, Molly went soaring once more, this time, the bit of her tail scraping the ceiling.  It threw her momentum off and made it so she landed on the hardwood floor instead of her darling child’s arms.  Fortunately, it didn’t hurt Molly a bit; one of the fringe benefits of not having bones.  

Becky scooped her up and brought her back into view.  <Amazing hopping, Becky! Again!> Molly had to not-laugh at herself.  Who was sounding like the baby, now?

“Emmygope,” Becky babbled.  

<Of course emmygope,> Molly not-told her best friend and darling Becky. <As soon as I figure out what that is, you can emmygope all you want.>

Before Molly could go soaring to the roof a third time, Mommy came and picked Becky up from the floor.  “Time for Lunch, Becky.” Somewhere around year four or five a bit of the cooing motherese and questioning tone had leaked out of Mommy, save for the big events.  Molly presumed it was because of some increasingly growing parenting trend of talking to children as though they were adults.

 Mommy groaned as she picked her big baby up and Molly let out a little not-yelp as she slipped from Becky’s grasp.  “Gosh, Becky,” she said more to herself, “you’re gettin’ heavy.” Molly stitched on smile was directed inward this time.  Becky’s Mommy had no idea.

“Mowwy!” Becky yelled, her eyes downcast.  No tears yet. There wouldn’t be tears unless Mommy walked away without correcting her mistake. “Mama! Mowwy!”

From her spot on the floor, Molly looked up as Mommy slipped two fingers past the leak guards of Molly’s ‘Size 3’ Pampers. “You’re not terribly wet,” she said.  “Maybe a change after lunch.” Eighteen seamless years of changing Becky’s diapers had made Mommy a real pro when it came to checking.

Necessity was another factor. 

Diapers were an expense that most kids grew out of.  But since Becky wasn’t growing, the diapers kept coming.  Thanks to Molly’s influence, the idea that Becky was an incontinent 18 year old meriting financial aid for adult diapers never had (and never would) occur to anyone.  Subconsciously, Molly guessed, Mommy and Daddy knew this, too. They’d learned to make diapers last when they needed to.  

The only drawback to letting a child sit in a wet diaper for a prolonged period of time was that it would make the child harder to potty train.  Potty training was never going to be an issue for Becky.

“Mama!” Becky whined.  “Mowwy!”

Mommy looked down and saw the stuffie.  “Oopsie” she said. “Wouldn’t want to forget Molly, would we?”  She bent over and scooped up the fourth member of the family, carrying them all to the kitchen.

Molly was placed lopsided on the kitchen table so that Becky could be buckled into her enormous highchair.  “Mowwy! Mowwy! Mowwy!” Clumsy grasping hands reached out for Molly the moment Mommy was done fastening safety harness over Becky’s breasts. 

“Molly’s right there on the table.” Mommy glanced over and righted the kangaroo. “We wouldn’t want her to get all messy, would we?”

They certainly wouldn’t.  After nearly eighteen years, the occasional trip to the washing machine had been unavoidable, but it was an inevitability that Molly preferred to prolong whenever possible.  Kangaroos did not like ‘baths’, it turned out. All that spinning and swirling in the dark scared Molly. It was the only time where she truly felt alone, irrationally afraid that the magic that kept things perfect would be washed away with the strained carrots.

 <Thank you, ma’am.> Molly said.  Even if only Becky could hear her, it didn’t hurt to be polite.  Had to set a good example for the baby.

“Ma’am”  Becky echoed.

“Mama,”  her mother corrected. 

<I’m fine here, Becky.  I’ll just watch. Okay?>

Becky smiled. “Mowwy!”  This time it was a sign of adoration and consent instead of a plea or demand.   Molly could stay and watch as Becky got fed, and the stuffie would get all her nourishment through another means.   It was remarkable how much could be communicated with a single word. The adult sized baby looked to her mother. Mommy had just finished tying on a bib. “Mama.”

“Yes, Mama.” Mommy agreed. 

“Mowwy!”

“Yes, I’ m your Mommy, and that’s your Molly. You really do love that toy, don’t you?”  Mommy had no idea, nor did she appreciate how much the toy loved the girl back. “For lunch today, we’re going to have some yummy peas.  Doesn’t that sound good?”

Becky’s tongue drooped out of her mouth.  “Uck!”

Mommy chuckled, knowingly.  This reaction wasn’t unexpected.  “They’ll help you grow big and strong, Becky!  Don’t you want that?”

The baby girl shook her head so fast that her hair was flapping back and forth like the tail of an unruly dog.  No one thought it odd that a nine month old could have such lustrous and long hair. Mommy and Daddy regularly took turns brushing it while their daughter luxuriated, her wonderful kangaroo in her lap.

<She’s right, Becky. Eat your peas!  That way you can get all grown up! > That was a lie, of course, but only Molly knew the truth.  Becky would get to be little her entire life, and the occasional jar of yucky peas was a small price to pay for that.

Becky was bouncing, now. “Emmygope!”

Mommy laughed at that.  “Yes yes, I’ll get you up out of that chair as soon as lunch is done.” She unscrewed the lid on an over sized jar of baby food and dipped a large plastic spoon in the green muck.  “Here comes the airplane!”

Becky clapped her hands, flailing her arms at the shoulders and giggled excitedly while Mommy made whooshing and whirring sounds.  “Coming in for a landing!” Mommy announced. “Open up the hanger door!” The big baby opened her mouth and was rewarded with a mouthful of mashed peas.  

<Yummy, yummy!>

“Um-um-um!”  More clumsy hand clapping, now with light green mush leaking out over the girl’s bottom lip.  Mommy was there to catch it with a washcloth, like a pro.  

Halfway through the jar of peas, Molly started yawning and drooping in her seat.  That’s when the spoon started turning into a choo-choo instead of an airplane, chugging along on an invisible track.  

That made Becky perk right up, and the afternoon’s entertainment resumed in earnest.  “You’re getting to be such a big girl!” Mommy said when the jar was almost done.

<Such a big girl!>  Molly agreed. (No she wasn’t.  And that was the beauty of it.)

Becky swallowed another mouthful of pees and then looked down at her tray.  “Pee-pee…?” she said. “Pee-pee!”   

<Yes, those are peas!> Molly cheered.  <How smart you are! How clever!> Molly couldn’t frown, but internally something felt amiss.  She’d been a particularly un-squirmy baby today and so the tray was clean. Only the bib was even remotely stained, and a quick spot scrubbing would take care of it for tonight.  Why was she looking at the tray?

Mommy put down the nearly empty jar of baby food.  “Pee-pee?” she said. Reaching under the tray and giving her daughter’s diaper a squeeze.  “Oh wow! Yes! Pee-pee! Wow!” Mommy seemed oddly happy about this, relieved even. “That’s right, Becky!  You’re going pee-pee! Such a big girl!”

<Yaaaaay! Becky!>  But Molly didn’t mean it.  Nine month olds weren’t supposed to recognize that they were wetting their diapers.  That’s why they needed their diapers and their bottles and their Mommies and Daddies and their toys…

 That old excited cooing creeped back into Mommy’s tone. “Maybe my little girl is an early bloomer!“

<Maybe!>  Molly’s smile was stitched on, but for the first time in a long while, it felt forced.  The kangaroo was worried. Very worried. Worried for all of them. She couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.

“Maybe in a few months we’ll start potty training!  Won’t that be nice?”

“Mama!  Emmygope!”

<Yaaaaaay…potty….>  Thank goodness Becky wan’t really listening.  The kid was empathetic as anything and would know something was up if she’d been paying attention.

Fortunately, some rituals still had great power over Becky.  The mashed peas were only the first course. Mommy unclicked the tray and unsnapped Becky from the highchair, the giving her diaper a firm pat.  “I’ll change you in a second. But first…” She carried Becky out of the kitchen and to the couch.

The stuffie used Mommy’s preoccupation to shift ever so slightly on the kitchen table so that she could get a good view of the couch.  Becky was already pawing at Mommy’s boobs. For nearly eighteen years, Mommy and Daddy had talked about weaning their daughter…starting when she was one years old.  “Just a second, silly girl.” Mommy cooed. She lifted her shirt, unclasped her nursing bra, and the big baby went to town suckling on mother’s milk.

Molly was used to being left out of this part.  It was a special Mommy and Baby time, and it often gave her a much needed break. Right now, Molly was grateful for a very different reason. 

She’d need to concentrate.  Molly focused all of her will on the girl.  <I’m never letting go.> She said it like a spell.  <Never letting go.> Unblinking little button eyes stared as Becky nursed and mewled with joy.  Even Mommy seemed to take solace in this never ending bonding ritual. It was for the best to keep it going.  <Never. Letting. Go.> Just. Had. To. Concentrate.

Becky’s mewling turned to grunting and her diaper expanded out, the last of the creases rounding out.  The middle snap even popped loose on Becky’s onesie. “Maybe I was a little premature on that early potty training thing,”  Mommy laughed to herself as Becky finished nursing.  

Becky finished drinking and was shifted into burping position.  Like the baby she was, she didn’t realize that anything had changed in her diaper until after Mommy gave her backside a pat. “Mowwy!” Molly couldn’t quite hear Becky’s tone.  Surprise? Accusation? Or was that just Molly’s own guilt echoing back at her? Not that she should feel guilty. “Mowweeee!”

There it was!  Baby Becky just wanted her favorite Kangaroo friend.  Molly sighed so hard that she fell back over on her side. Molly felt the love radiate as she was put back into her Becky’s arms, being.  <I’m here, sweetie.> She whispered to Becky. <Your Molly’s here. I’ll always be here for you. All of us will. It’ll always be like this.  Always.>

The string of babble from Becky’s mouth was so incomprehensible and nonsensical that even Molly’s trained ear couldn’t decipher what the baby meant.  It sounded happy though.

The resulting diaper change came a few steps quicker than Molly would have otherwise expected “Don’t want a blowout before we get to your room,”  Mommy said as she laid Becky down on the living room blanket. “Better to just do it here.”  

Like with any experienced parent, diapers inevitably crept out of the nursery and into strategic locations around the house, and Becky’s parents were nothing if not experienced, even if they didn’t know it.  In this particular instance, a tiny stack of three rested next to a packet of wipes on a nearby coffee table.

Molly stared down at Becky, held in the grown-child’s grasp high above her head.  <Don’t make me hop now,> she warned Becky. <I don’t wanna have an oopsie daisy and land in a yucky diaper while Mommy is changing you!>

Becky giggled.  “Di-di.”

“Yes, di-di!” Mommy said.  “I’m changing your diaper.”

Molly breathed easy as she heard the tapes of the diaper come undone.  As soon as the old diaper was thrown away, the idea that Becky was anywhere close to potty training age would fade out completely from everyone’s memory.   Molly wasn’t sure why it worked this way, but it did. Magic was funny like that.

The diaper was tossed in the kitchen trashcan (thank goodness for lids), Becky’s onesie was buttoned back up, and Molly could tell, the sweet girl was getting ready to dose off.  “How about some fresh air?” Mommy said after she’d washed her hands.

Becky was picked up, cradled by her mother, and like a good baby, Becky copied and did the same for Molly.  How wonderful it felt to be cradled by one who loved you so. 

Out the kitchen door they went, and Molly found herself resting in the crook of baby Becky’s arm while Mommy secured them in the stroller.  <The sun is so warm today,> Molly whispered to Becky. <Perfect napping weather.> Becky’s eyes were already beginning to droop as Mommy walked behind them and started pushing.

The sun was bright and beautiful and warm as Mommy pushed them on the side of the road.  Perfect stroller weather. Perfect napping weather. Had Molly been the type to need sleep, she would have luxuriated in the stroller ride and dozed beside her eternally infantilized companion.  Fortunately, the concept that anyone besides her might need sleep had never occurred to Becky and so Molly was never truly sleepy. Instead she was content to relax next to her little buddy and take the world in.

Another day in paradise.

A few blocks into their stroll, a shadow fell over the stroller.  Molly shifted so she could see. ‘Oh hi, Deborah,” the jogger said.

“Patty! Hiiiiii!”  Mommy replied.

The jogger’s face, a woman about Mommy’s age, peered back into the stroller.  “Oh my gosh, is that Becky? She’s getting so big!”

<You have no idea…>  Molly smirked.

Mommy seemed to agree “She is!  Every day.”

“When’s her birthday?” the jogger asked.

Mommy told her the date.   

“About six months from now.” The other woman said.  “So that means she’s…?”

“Nine months old,” Mommy corrected her.

There was a pause as the magic that Molly wielded interfered with the grown-ups ability to do basic math calculations.    “Yeah! That sounds about right. Is she walking, yet?”

“Not yet.  Any day now, though.”  Mommy let out a tired sigh.  “Any day now.” If she had teeth, Molly would be flashing her pearly whites right now, but she settled for the stitching that made up her mouth to seem just a little bit more pronounced.

The stroller kept moving, as did the conversation.  Becky moaned a bit and pulled in her kangaroo closer to her.  Poor thing. She hated the idea of growing up as much as Molly did.  “Emmygope…”

“What’s it like being a stay at home, Mom?” Mommy’s friend asked.

“Oh you know,” Mommy said.  “It’s fun, and I’m glad to be taking this year with Becky, but I’m looking forward to going back to work.”

Mommy’s friend laughed.  “I completely get it. I stayed home that first year with Kyle, but I was ready to get back to work around one year.”  Kyle? KYLE! That’s where Molly remembered the jogger lady! Molly and Kyle had been playmates.

First they were the same age.  Then Kyle became her “big playmate” while they were both still in diapers, him a Size 6, her a magically modified a Size 3 and then he gradually faded away into Pull-Ups and preschool.  <Oh yeah. I remember her. I wonder how Kyle is. Shame he had to grow up. Guess his stuffie didn’t love him as much.>

“None of the daycares around here even have services for kids Becky’s age,“ Mommy complained.  That was true…

Mommy’s friend seemed to agree.  “Exactly. And private sitters are more expensive. Not worth the cost of going back.  Cheaper to stay home.” If Molly could have nodded, she would have. “Still, it was such a relief to get back to work when the time was right.”

Still in Becky’s arm, Molly wriggled and tried to sit up a little straighter.  <What?>  

“Exactly.”  Molly wasn’t sure, but she could practically hear Mommy nodding in agreement.  “Not just for the extra income, but so that I can be a role model for Becky.”

<Role model?>  Molly was confused.  <Babies don’t need role models.  They’ve got their role! BABIES!> Becky gurgled and shifted in her sleep.  <Oh…> Molly lowered her not-voice. <Sorry, baby. Go to sleep.>

Mommy’s friend started piling it on.  “Plus there’s all the neat things you get to see them do.  Kyle’s gone from a blob to a crawler to a kid to a..a…just the neatest person.  I’m so proud of him!”  

Both of them sighed wistfully.  “Whatever happened to us?” Mommy asked.

“I had kids,” the jogger said.  “Motherhood changes your whole social structure and priorities.  You start making friends with other parents.”

“Yeah,” Mommy said.  “I get that. Before Becky, most of our friends were childless, but all of them are fading away now.  I hope we can find a playgroup for Becky.” Molly was getting a strange kind of deja vu. She’d heard a variant of this conversation so many times.  Mommy was always finding baby friends for Becky. But they never stayed babies, so they never stayed friends…

“I wish we could have had kids around the same time,” Mommy’s friend said.  “You would have been a blast at the play dates.”

“Yeah, me too…”

There was a thought that the plushie hadn’t considered before.  Becky wasn’t the only one without friends her age…Molly couldn’t frown, but she suddenly felt just a little tiny bit sad. Mommy’s friend waved goodbye and ran ahead of the stroller.

Mommy turned off into a park; not a playground. A park.  Becky was too little for most anything but a baby swing, anyway. This was a place where the Big People played strange and complicated games called sports.  For Mommy though, it was a spot with benches to rest at and a place to park Becky’s stroller.

Practiced hands unbuckled and jostled the girl awake.  “Emmygope?” Becky let out a fussy groan and whined a bit as Mommy picked her up out of her stroller.

<What’s wrong Becky?  Do you need a ba-ba? A change?  Don’t worry. Your Mommy will check you.  And I’ll be right here.>

“Noooooo…”  Becky whined.  

Mommy tutted her tongue.  “I’m not gonna let you nap all day and be up all night, baby girl.  You’re too big for those midnight tantrums.”

<NO SHE’S NOT!>

“Mowwy….” Becky groaned.  Molly was in Becky’s hands instantly without further comment from Mommy.

With darn near superhero strength, Mommy bounced Becky on her lap as she checked her various social media accounts.  Becky was content to babble at her best stuffie friend.

“Abababbaabab.”

<Uh-huh.>

“Uh.huh.”

“Buh-buh-buh-buh”

<Is that so?>

“Yeah?”

“Emmygope.”

<Yes! Emmygope! We’re emmygoping right now, aren’t we? Yes we are! Yes we are!>

“What does that even mean?” Mommy laughed.  “Such a silly little girl!”

They laughed.  They all laughed.  Becky even gave Molly a kiss.  Although, like usual, it was closer to a gentle, lips only goose bite  “Mowwy…”  

<Yes, it’s me!  Your Molly!>

“That’s right.  That’s Molly. She’s your favorite, isn’t she?”

“Mowwy!”

They just sat there for a few minutes, the three of them, in amicable silence.  Molly in Becky’s lap, Becky in Mommy’s lap. Like perfect nesting dolls.

Then Mommy pulled up Candy Crush and started playing it.  All of Becky’s world dived into the phone. Becky kept trying to grab at the beautiful, colorful, and fun looking game, and Mommy couldn’t quite understand how her nine month old was able to so easily grasp at the phone.  <Becky!> Molly half laughed, half chided her girl. <Take it easy. Mommies need to play, too. Just watch. It’s like a cartoon!>

“Cah-toooooooooo!”

“That’s right.” Mommy agreed.  “It’s like a cartoon.”

How lucky was Becky, Molly marveled, that she could have two conversations at once?  Not many people could get to say that.

With Becky and her mother distracted, Molly took a moment to take in the sights that the park had to offer.

There were other girls at the park; girls Becky’s age.  Not nine-months…her real age.  They were  playing games:  Basketball. Tennis.  The clink of a metal bat and the clap of the audience shouting “run run run” signaled that there was a baseball or softball game nearby.  Others just walked around in the open, without their Mommies and Daddies to watch over them.  

There were a few who even held hands with boys or other girls!  They weren’t playing any games, but just gazing deeply into each other’s eyes; giving each other little pecks on the lips.  (Some gave not so little pecks.)  

Molly knew what that all this meant; she was a grown kangaroo, after all.  Love! Not the kind of love that Molly gave Becky or that Becky gave Mommy.  More like the kind of love that Mommy and Daddy had for each other, maybe even the kind of love that made Becky.

A few walking about made goo-goo eyes at Becky.  Smiling at her and whispering to each other about how cute the little baby was, and made special flirty whispers to their partners.  They were jealous not of her, but of Mommy. They wanted to cuddle. But they didn’t want to wear diapers, they wanted to change them.  They wanted to nurture and tickle and care for someone: Things that Becky would never be able to do as long as Molly wasn’t letting go…

 One even had a bump coming out of her shirt and was practically glowing.  The lady might not have a pouch, but sooner or later, Molly knew, this girl who was only a few years older than Becky was going to change her name to Mommy, too.    

Becky was never going to get to be a Mommy…but wasn’t Mommy just saying how much she wanted to go back to work…?  Molly had no nerve endings, but she suddenly felt something she’d never felt before: Confusion.

All of these people, young men and young women…all Becky’s real age or just a little older. They looked happy.  

They all looked so happy.

Happy and safe.  And some of them were happy and going to be Mommies and Daddies.

But Becky was happy too.  Wasn’t she?

<I can’t ever let go….or else…or else…this? This might happen?>

************************************************************************

“Honey! I’m home!”

<Daddy’s home!>

“Da-da!”

“Daddy’s home!”  Mommy walked over and half-hugged, half-collapsed into Daddy’s arms.  “Welcome home, hon.”

Daddy gave Mommy a kiss.  “Rough day?”

“Oh no,” Mommy said.  “Just tired of the grind and I miss you.”

Another kiss; this one on the cheek. “I miss you too.” 

Oblivious to the grown-ups, Becky kept banging the wooden spoons on the pots with Molly cheering her on.  <Great job, Becky. Beautiful music!>

“When’s your next day off?”

Daddy must have not heard the question. He went over to Becky and scooped her up in his arms, tickling her.  “There’s my big girl!” Becky squirmed in Daddy’s arms, and Molly couldn’t help but laugh along from her spot on the kitchen floor.  “Ooops! Daddy better be careful or he might just have a leaky butt on his hands. Yes he might! Yes he might!”

“Would you mind changing her?”  Mommy asked.  

“Not at all.”  Quick as a lightning bug, Daddy zipped out of the kitchen, a soggy adult baby in tow, leaving Molly behind.

Becky was wriggling and reaching over Daddy’s shoulder.  “MOWWY!” she cried out. Not that Daddy could see, but there was an obvious look of distress on the girl’s face.

Daddy patted Becky’s back comfortingly.  “You’ll get to play with Molly in just a second,” he said.  Molly could only sit there on the kitchen floor as Becky called out for her, dying inside.

<It’s okay, Becky!> She called out.  <Daddy’s just in a hurry. It’ll be okay!>

“MOWWWWWWY!”

The house was big. Big enough that Molly couldn’t hear the tapes being ripped open, or Daddy’s gentle shushing as he wiped Becky’s bottom.  She couldn’t hear the soft click of the well used diaper genie, or the crisp crinkling of a new diaper being unfolded, slipped underneath Becky and taped on…Daddy tended to skip the powder.  All she could hear was Becky’s screams and it broke her amorphous cotton heart. <I’M RIGHT HERE, BABY!> She called out, hoping that Becky could hear her despite not really having a voice.

“What’s the matter, baby?”  Daddy said, coming back into the kitchen.  “Why are you so upset? Your booty doesn’t have a rash on it.  I just checked.”

The big baby was on the verge of being completely inconsolable.  “MOWWY!” Tears were coming now.

Mommy picked Molly up and reunited the pair.  “She just wanted her doll.” Becky immediately started to regain her composure in Daddy’s arms.  Molly felt immediate relief, too.

“Oh…” Daddy said.  He had the good grace to look embarrassed.  “Sorry.”

Mommy shrugged.  “It’s a phase. When’s your next day off?”

Daddy sat Becky down on the floor.  “All these pots and pans on the floor,” he said.  “I’m guessing it’s not spaghetti night?” He laughed at his own joke. He was the only one.

<Look Becky!> Molly urged.  <You can make me hop-hop-hop on all the different pots.> 

Becky started making Molly hop on the pans in place of the wooden spoon.  With her adult sized hands, she was able to slam Molly hard down enough so that each of the metal containers reverberated with every ‘hop’.  If Molly had had any bones or non-cotton organs, it might have hurt. “Op-op-op!” Molly was trying not to listen to Mommy and Daddy. So was Becky.  They were failing.

“When’s your next day off?”  Mommy seemed a little more insistent this time.

Daddy froze.  He sucked on his teeth.  After almost eighteen years, Molly could sense a fight coming.  <Keep me hopping, Becky!>

“I just got took more hours of overtime at the office.” Daddy lowered his head.

Mommy looked like she’d just been slapped.  “You what?! Without asking me!”

Daddy’s face was getting red and his brow was furrowing.  “Why do I need to ask you whether I make more money for us or not?  Why do you need me to take a day off?”

“I spend all day taking care of the baby and I just want a little time to myself…?!”  It had the rising tone like a question, but it wasn’t. Not really. Parenthood was hard.  Perpetual parenthood, though? Literally inconceivable.

“It’s no picnic for me, either,” Daddy said. “Who do you think is paying for all these toys and diapers and stuff?”  Becky stopped making Molly hop around on the cooking pots. She was staring at her parents, watching the fight brew like one of those Hollywood Island Natives watching a volcano start to rumble.

“I JUST NEED A BREAK!”

“SO DO I!”

Becky let out a wail as the grown-ups raised their voices.  Two wet spots formed on Mommy’s chest. A natural reaction given the constant breastfeeding. “When are weaning her, anyways?”  Daddy asked.

“We can’t afford to wean her,” Mommy said. There were tears in her eyes, and they weren’t terribly happy tears, either.  “The free food that I’m producing is helping our budget!” There were tears in Becky’s eyes, as well. Daddy’s too.

Money always hurt.  If Molly had had unlimited magic, she would have made Mommy and Daddy kajillionaires with a full time staff of housekeepers and cooks so they could spend all their time with their baby girl.  Molly couldn’t do this without them, she had to admit.  

Unfortunately, Becky didn’t understand the concept of money, and so the magical plushie had no power to affect the crinkly green stuff.  “How can we be having all of these financial problems?” Daddy asked. “Hospital bills?”

Mommy shook her head.  “Paid them.” Easily, Molly knew.

“Pediatrician?”

“Up to date on her shots, no major appointments.”   Mommy thought for a moment. “College fund?”

It was Daddy’s turn to shake his head. “Completely up to date and paid.“  More than he realized. Daddy had been making that first big down payment again and again and again for a little less than twenty years.  Kind of a shame, considering that Becky would never have to go to stinky old college and do keg stands or whatever it was that non-baby girls her age did.  

Those girls at the park hadn’t been doing anything terribly dangerous or bad though.  Had they?

The couple fell back into each other. “I’m just SO tired.”

Daddy rubbed Mommy’s back, long since desensitized to something so simple as a milk stained shirt.  “Me too, hon…me too. But it will get easier.”

No…no it wouldn’t.  

From her spot on the floor, Becky was getting tired of being ignored by all three of her support givers.  “Mama? Dada?”

“Oh shit…we did it again.” Daddy said.  “We argued in front of the baby.” Honestly, they’d had a pretty good track record, all things considered.  By Molly’s count they had made it almost six years before they had their first argument around their daughter.  The kangaroo couldn’t remember what it was about…maybe wanting to switch to cloth diapers or some other minor alteration?  It had been nixed with empty promises that this would all get easier over time.

On average they had a heated discussion like this once a year, every eight to nine months.   

Ironic.  

Or was it?

Nothing changed.  Nothing ever changed.  And for some reason Molly was feeling just awful about it.

“It’s okay Becky,” Daddy said.  “Mommy and Daddy are just talking.  We’re just a little cranky, yeah?”

<Yeah? See Becky?  Everything’s fine. Everything’s JUST fine.>  Molly could hear the lie in her own not-voice.

“It’ll get easier,” he promised Mommy.  It was a promise he didn’t know he wouldn’t be able to keep.  “In a few months, you can go back to work, and Becky can go to a daycare and make lots of friends her own age.” Wrong. 

Mommy hugged him even harder.  “And then in a few years,” she said,  “after potty training, and when she’s in public school, we’ll get a lot of that income back.”  Wrong.

“And we’ll get to be there for all of the other fun stuff,” Daddy said back.  “Like when she starts talking in full sentences.” Wrong.

“And walking.”  Wrong.

“And feeding herself.”  Wrong!

“And reading and writing.” Wrong and wrong!

“And taking care of herself.”  WRONG!

“And we’re teaching her how to drive.”  

<NO!  TOO MUCH!>

“Whoah whoah whoah!  Let’s not go crazy, now!” Daddy said.

<First sensible thing you’ve said!>

“This is awesome,” Daddy continued, not hearing Molly’s not-voice.  “Our baby girl is awesome, and she’s only going to get cooler and cooler.”  With a wide sweeping gesutre he indicated the messy kitchen literred with cooking irons.  “But this? This is only the beginning. We got a late start in this game, but we’re gonna get to watch her grow up.”

<No…no…no!  It’s not! It’s everything! It IS EVERYTHING!  Why would anyone WANT TO GROW UP?! WHY WOULD ANYONE WANT TO LET THEIR BABY GROW UP? I DON’T UNDERSTAND!>

“Emmygope!”

“What’s she saying?” Daddy asked.  Then he thought of a better person to ask. He squatted down, hands on his knees and looked his daughter in the eye. “What’s that, Rebecca?”

<DON’T CALL HER THAT! THAT’S HER ADULT NAME! SHE DOESN’T NEED->

Becky talked over Molly.  “Em..me…go….up!” She never talked over Molly.  It was Becky’s own will that had brought Molly to life.  From a mystical point of view, she was practically talking to herself…or so Molly had thought.

Daddy smiled “Let you grow up?  Is that what you’re saying?”

Becky nodded, grinning even as a bit of drool escaped her.  Mommy and Daddy laughed at that. “Our kid!” Mommy said. “Honey, I don’t think we could stop you from growing up if we tried.”

<Becky?>  Molly said.  Becky didn’t look at her. <Becky?> Still nothing.  <Rebecca?> The baby turned and looked at her constant companion.  <Is that true? You want to grow up?> All she got was more babble as the baby was lifted up on Mommy’s hip. 

“How about pizza tonight?  We can afford a pizza and Mommy can take the night off from cooking.”

“PEE-AH!”  She didn’t cry out for Molly.

<Rebecca…>  Molly whimpered.  <I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.  I just didn’t want to let go.>

“Sounds like we’ve got a winner!”

<I just didn’t want to have to let you go.>

“How’s pepperoni?”

<I didn’t want you to let me go…>

“You know I don’t like meat on my pizza.”

<I thought I was helping…>

“Okay.  Half-pep for me and Becky.  Let me guess, pineapple? Becky.  Tell Mommy ‘Yuck?”

<Wasn’t I…?>

“UCK!”

<Good-bye, Becky.>  Things started getting fuzzy.

“Just means more slices for me.”

<I love you.  And I always will.>

Molly’s world started to fade away.  Reality was reasserting control over itself.  Magic was making way for new memories.

<Please let me feel love.>  As a magical totem of sorts, Molly wasn’t used to praying as much as being prayed to.  <I just want my last thought to be love. Let me stop existing, let me leave this existence being loved. I just want to be lov->

************************************************************************

BREEP BREEP BREEEP BREEP!

Rebecca slammed the alarm clock off.  “Rebecca!” Mom called from down the hallway. “Time to get up!”

“FIVE MORE MINUTES, MOM!”  Rebecca begged. “PLEEEEEASE!”

“No ma’am,” Mom called back.  “Five minutes turns into ten minutes turns into you being late turns into skipping and us having to spend even MORE money. Quit stalling.”

Rebecca grunted and growled.  She knew Mom was right. Didn’t make her any less grumpy first thing in the morning, however.  Being an adult sucked sometimes. She threw off her covers, swung her feet over the bed and stretched.

Her old kangaroo lay on the floor.  She must have accidentally tossed or kicked it in her sleep last night.  Rebecca walked past it and straight to the bathroom, not even thinking about it until the toilet was flushing behind her.  

Looking at the kangaroo on the floor, a strange sense came over her: It was what George Carlin called “Vuja De”, the feeling that none of this had ever happened before, but that was a silly idea.  More importantly, it was a strange and sudden feeling; a quiet one; a sad one, even though the young woman couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

She bent over and picked her oldest toy up.  Her parents had given it to her when she was a baby, but for some reason she’d never been able to let go of this one, even as every other toy she’d ever gotten had made its way into Goodwill or storage.  “Hey Molly,” she said, giving the beaten up old thing a quick hug before tossing it on the bed and getting herself dressed for the day. She really had abused the poor doll, but part of her imagined that the plushie loved the attention all the same.

Getting her backpack, she took one step out of her room before doubling back.  “Almost forgot,” Rebecca said, grabbing onto Molly. She unzipped the large front pocket of her book bag and stuffed the old baby toy inside so that its head was still poking out.  It only made sense for a kangaroo to be riding in a pouch.

It was something that Mommy had said to her on her first day of Kindergarten, a way to get her to hop on the bus (no pun intended) without tears.  Over the years, it had become habit and Molly had evolved from a beloved childhood toy to something of a good luck charm. She’d need all the luck she could get.  The SAT’s were upon her.

But if she was going to be a dentist, that meant college and that meant late night cram sessions and that meant suffering through the SAT’s.

“Daddy?”  Rebecca called out into the kitchen.

A tired but somewhat jovial sigh rumbled from out her father’s throat. “What do you want, Becky?” He called back.

“Nothing…!”

“You only call me ‘Daddy’ when you want something!”

“And you only call me ‘Becky’ when you’re going to give it to me!”

A pause.  “What do you want?”

“Can I borrow your car tonight?”

Another pause.  “What’s wrong with yours?”

Rebecca continued the negotiation, taking Molly and her backpack into the kitchen.  “I’ve got a date tonight.”

“A date?” Mom said, just barely out the door herself for another pre-dawn investor meeting.  Dad’s job made a good chunk of change, but Mom was the real breadwinner in the house. “A date with who?”

A hint of rose made it’s way to Rebecca’s cheeks.  “Kyle.”

“Huh,” Dad grunted. “I always got more of a kid brother vibe off of him.”

“It’s not serious,” Rebecca told him. But it might be…

“Don’t we have some pictures of them together when they were about two and half?” Mom asked. “Both of them on their little potties in the living room. Nothing on but the Pull-Ups around their ankles?

“MOTHER!”

“What’s the point of having babies,” Mom laughed, “if you can’t embarrass them for being babies as soon they’re grown up?”  Rebecca reached behind her and gave Molly another squeeze. “Let her have the car!” Mom called back before rushing out. “Good way to celebrate tonight.”

Her father took a sip of his morning coffee, the only one not in a  hurry to leave the house. “I never could say ‘no’. To either of you.”

“So I can take it?” Rebecca asked, already starting to bounce in excitement.

“Date night? Yes.  SAT’s? Not so much.”

He was being hugged before he had a chance to object.  “Thank you, Daddy! You’re the best!” Rebecca started running out before he had a chance to change his mind.  

“SAT’s,” Daddy said to himself.  “Date night. Seems like just yesterday I was wiping your-”  The door was closed before he finished the sentence.  

Rebecca got into her car.  It was used and wasn’t pretty, but she’d managed to save up all the money herself; working countless hours from the day she turned thirteen.  Walking dogs. Babysitting neighbor kids. Stocking the batting cages over at the park. Collecting scrap for recycling. The whole nine yards.  

Riding shotgun, as most always, was her backpack containing a certain stuffed Kangaroo.  “Ready to roll, Molly?” she asked. It might have been her imagination, but she could have sworn that the stuffed animal nodded a bit. “Wish me luck.”  Rebecca wiped a little bit of sleep out of her eye, but could have sworn that the stuffie was smiling at her. Of course it was smiling, its smile was stitched on, but this one seemed more genuine for some reason.  Maybe even relieved.

Poor thing had been beaten up so bad over the seventeen plus years, that it’s stuffing just wasn’t what it used to be.  If Molly had had any bones, they’d all be jelly by now.

As she backed out of the driveway and drove to the testing sight, a new idea popped into Rebecca’s head.  He didn’t know it yet, but Kyle was taking her to Build-A-Bear tonight. It shouldn’t cost that much to re-stuff and spruce up an old marsupial.  Kyle probably wouldn’t be surprised. Molly had tagged around for every other date they’d had.

Rebecca had outgrown a lot of things in her life, but that stuffie wasn’t one of them. 

She reached over and gave it another pat on the head.  “I’m never letting go.” It was silly, but it made her feel better, and the idea of taking care of her old stuffie like it was an actual person helped chase her pre-test jitters away.

<Thank you.>

“Hmmm?”  Rebecca looked around.  The radio wasn’t on, but she could have sworn she heard somebody just then.  

It was nothing.  Probably nothing.  Just her imagination.

[kerry]

This is lovely and very sweet. ?‍♀️?❤️

[YourFNF]

Direct hit to the feels

[Personalias]

12 hours ago, kerry said:

This is lovely and very sweet. ?‍♀️?❤️

Thank you.  This was a commission, so I won't take credit for the idea, but I will take credit for the execution.

3 hours ago, YourFNF said:

Direct hit to the feels

Thank you.  Yeah.  Me too.