Small But Mighty (Age-Regression)

Love Sandwich

Mila POV:

Waking up, my gums ache but I'm not feeling little. I'm in bed with Mom and Dad, but I need to get out of it to get this soggy diaper off. Last night I went to bed in my headspace. I must've used the diaper while I was asleep.

Carefully slipping out of bed so I don't wake Mon or Dad, I walk to my room and stand on my tiptoes to open the door. I walk to my closet and quickly discard the diaper, slipping on a pair of underwear that has bees on it.

I put a pair of leggings and a sweater on top, then make my way downstairs on my butt. I may not be little right now, but I am still small. Climbing and going down stairs is a challenge.

Finally, I reach the bottom of the stairs and sprint towards the kitchen. The fridge is super high up and I have trouble opening it, but I eventually get it open by standing on a chair.

Pulling out a pre-made pancake mix, I move towards the stove and turn it on. While that's heating up, I slide off the chair to grab a pan that's resting in the bottom cupboard.

I set that on the stove, then pour the pancake mix into the pan with butter in it. The pancake sizzles immediately, making me giggle. When bubbles form at the top, I grab a flat spatula and flip the pancake. Some batter gets everywhere, but I choose to ignore that.

I make three pancakes and then hop off the chair. There should be syrup around the pantry somewhere. Walking into the large pantry, I spot the syrup sitting towards the top. Even with the chair I'll still be too short.

There's shelves that go all the way from the top of the pantry to the bottom. I should be able to climb them like a ladder.

Placing my right arm and leg on the shelves, I begin to climb them. They seem to be holding steady under my weight, so I continue my journey to the elusive syrup.

I'm almost at the top when I hear Mom's voice yell, "Mila! Where are you!?"

It sounds like she's still upstairs.

"Down here, Mom!" I reply, making my voice loud enough so she can hear me.

My left hand grabs the syrup bottle and I hold it tight to my chest as I use my right hand to guide myself down. I'm almost at the bottom, when I slip and fall. I mentally prepare for the worst, but then strong arms catch me.

Dad pulls me tight to his chest and gives me a kiss on the head.

"Don't ever climb those shelves again, Mila Era Thomas!" He snaps, bringing his face level with mine.

Behind the anger I can see the actual fear in his eyes. He gives me another kiss after I nod my head in acknowledgment, then sets me back down on the floor. I'm still holding my syrup and I carry it to the table where my pancakes are resting.

Or should still be resting...

"Where are my pancakes!?" I yell, furious that somebody took away my hard work.

"They weren't all the way done, Mila. I'll make you some if you want them." Mom tells me, pointing to the trash can where all my pancakes are currently resting.

My face falls and I drop my butt to the floor, crying with all my might. It's not really a fourteen year old reaction, but little me wants to come to the surface. I'm not letting her, though.

"Mila, it's okay. Do you want to go upstairs and snuggle with Mama and I?" Dad asks, approaching me slowly like I'm some sort of wild animal.

"No! I'm not little right now!" I yell through my sobs.

"Okay, pea. Whatever you say. Do you want to go upstairs and take some time to collect yourself?" Mom prods.

"No! I want to make pancakes by myself because I'm a big girl." I scream, throwing myself down onto the floor.