Lego trap
The Newest Addition
The afternoon sun was too bright. It felt like it was poking at my eyes, making the hazy fog in my brain even thicker. I sat on the plush rug of the playpen, my fingers mindlessly tracing the ruffled hem of my white dress. Beside me, Emerson was stacking soft fabric blocks, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in total concentration. She looked so small—so much smaller than the friend I remembered riding bikes with.
Wait. Bikes.
The word sparked a sudden, sharp pain in my chest. I remembered a blue bike with streamers. I remembered the feeling of the wind on my face and the pride of being ten years old. My eyes snapped toward Emerson.
"Emerson," I whispered, my voice sounding like a rusty hinge. "The bike. Your bike is red. Mine is blue."
Emerson paused, a green block in her hand. Her big, toddler eyes blinked slowly. For a second, a flicker of recognition crossed her face. "Red," she whispered. "Red bike. We... we raced to the park."
"Yes!" I felt a surge of hope. "We aren't babies, Emerson. We're big. We have to—"
The heavy click of the door handle silenced me instantly. The fog rushed back, trying to swallow the memory of the bikes. Miss Mary walked in, her face glowing with a frantic sort of excitement. She wasn't alone. Behind her stood a woman I didn't recognize, carrying a boy who looked to be about five. He had messy brown hair and was wearing a striped t-shirt and cargo shorts.
"Oh, you're going to love it here, Jonathan!" the woman said, setting the boy down. "Miss Mary was the best babysitter for all the neighborhood kids. She has so many toys!"
"Look at that, Jonathan," Miss Mary cooed, her eyes darting toward us. "You already have new friends to play with! This is Emerson, and this is Emmaleena."
Jonathan looked at us with a mix of confusion and shyness. He looked so... old. He looked like a real kid, not a doll. I tried to stand up, wanting to shout for help, but my legs felt like lead.
Miss Mary’s gaze landed on me, and her expression shifted into something maternal and hovering. She walked over to the playpen and reached in, her hands firm as they hooked under my armpits.
"Oh, goodness me, Emmaleena," she said, her voice loud and performative for the benefit of the guest. "I was just about to get you changed! I think someone has a very full diaper, doesn't she?"
"No," I squeaked, my face heating up. "No, I'm okay!"
"Nonsense, darling. We can't have you meeting new friends while you're all soggy," Miss Mary said.
She didn't take me to the corner. She didn't hide me away. She marched right over to the changing table in the middle of the room, in full view of Jonathan and his mother. My heart hammered against my ribs. The humiliation was a physical weight, pressing down on me as she laid me flat on the blue pad.
"I can do it later!" I pleaded, my voice high and desperate.
"Shh, shh. Just a quick change," Miss Mary murmured.
With a practiced, brutal efficiency, she worked the buttons at the back of my dress. She pulled it over my head, leaving me in just my ruffled bloomers and the heavy, crinkling diaper. Then, the bloomers were tugged down and tossed aside.
The sound of the Velcro tabs being ripped open felt like a gunshot in the quiet room. *Rip. Rip.*
I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could simply disappear into the stuffing of the changing pad. I felt the cool air hit my skin as she pulled the heavy diaper away. I was completely bare, exposed in front of this new boy and his mother. I felt like a specimen under a microscope.
"There we go," Miss Mary said loudly. "All gone. Now we just need to get you nice and dry."
She picked up the dirty diaper and dropped it into the bin, leaving me lying there, naked and vulnerable. I felt like a Barbie doll that had been stripped of its clothes and left on a shelf. I tried to roll over, to cover myself with my hands, but Miss Mary placed a firm hand on my stomach, pinning me down.
"Stay still, Emmaleena. Don't be fussy in front of our guests," she scolded gently.
Jonathan’s mother stepped closer, smiling down at me. "Oh, she’s just precious, Mary. Look at those little rolls! She’s at such a cute age."
"She is, isn't she?" Miss Mary said.
Then, to my absolute horror, Miss Mary didn't reach for a new diaper. She reached down and scooped me up, holding me against her hip while I was still completely bare. I felt the cold air on my legs and the heat of total embarrassment radiating from my skin. She held me out toward the newcomers like a prize.
"Say hello to Jonathan, Emmaleena," Miss Mary commanded.
I buried my face in Miss Mary’s shoulder, my small fingers digging into her yellow apron. "No," I whimpered.
"Aw, look at that," Miss Mary laughed, her voice vibrating against my chest. "Someone’s being a grumpy little girl today. I think she’s just shy because she’s a little bit 'undressed' at the moment."
"It’s okay, sweetie," Jonathan’s mother said, reaching out to pat my bare leg. "Jonathan used to be shy, too."
I wanted to scream that I wasn't shy, I was ten! I wanted to tell them that this woman was a monster who used a machine to shrink us. But the words wouldn't come. My brain felt like it was being wrapped in cotton candy, sweet and sticky and suffocating.
"Actually, Sarah," Miss Mary said, turning to Jonathan’s mother with a bright, calculated look. "Would you mind holding her for just a second? I realized I left the fresh diapers on the bottom shelf of the closet across the room. I don't want to leave her on the table where she might roll off."
"Oh, of course!" Sarah said, reaching out her arms.
Before I could protest, I was being handed over. I felt the transition—the loss of Miss Mary’s firm grip and the arrival of a stranger’s touch. Sarah held me firmly, her sweater feeling scratchy against my bare skin. I was a