✅ My Sister's Problem

84. Too Many Options

I felt a little better when we moved into the furniture section. I knew that there was a higher chance of being expected to buy something here; but it would be less humiliating overall. I still couldn't stop blushing as I thought about all the people around us who might think that I was an actual baby, but I managed not to say anything until we came to stop in another aisle that seemed to be free of bystanders.

There were dolls all along the shelves. Not the detailed things that Lindy had only recently decided she was too old to collect and stuffed in a dozen boxes at the back of her closet; but simplistic things aimed at little kids. There were stuffed toys made from a variety of materials, so that each limb would make a different sound when it was grabbed or struck, and with different onomatopœia embroidered along the arms and legs. There were tiny rag dolls that could have come from a previous generation of simple toys, and a whole range with different skin, hair, and eye colours so you could get a doll that might look kind of like your baby. I couldn't imagine ever wanting something like that, but I was sure there were some ancient examples lurking at the bottom of a toybox somewhere at home that would prove me wrong.

"What do you think, baby?" Mum asked me. "Want some new toys?"

I whimpered, and didn't say anything. This was so humiliating, and now all the excitement that I'd previously felt seemed to have drained away. I should have known that there would be a limit to how far I could enjoy this, but it seemed I had reached it now.

"Look!" Lindy waved a doll in front of me, and I looked down, wondering why she had chosen that one. "Don't you want something cute to play with?"

Then Mum was kneeling beside me on the other side, and I could see that she was genuinely concerned.

"Lindy?" she said. "Can you pick out some dolls for your baby sister? I think she's a little overwhelmed by the number of choices. Find four or five for her to choose from, okay?" Then she leaned past me to whisper something that I didn't catch, but I heard Lindy's mumble in the affirmative, and footsteps hurrying off across the tiles. I wanted to say that I didn't need dolls, even though I knew that wouldn't fit with the terms of my punishment, or that I was big enough to pick out a doll myself, even though I knew that in my current state of mind I wasn't quite that capable.

"Are you okay, dear?" Mum was asking me a moment later, the sing-song cadence she used when talking to me as a baby gone from her voice. "We can head home if you're not coping."

I looked at her, and my confusion must have been clear. Why would she offer me a chance to get out of my punishment? I knew that she'd talked about it before, but that still seemed to me like it was defeating the purpose of a punishment.

"You're my little girl, Sally. And I care for you. The purpose of punishment is always learning to do better. It's not about hurting you, or about revenge. It might be a bit of a deterrent, but if I need that then I'm not doing a very good job of parenting. I don't want to hurt you, and when it's necessary I'll always try to minimise that. And I absolutely don't want to traumatise you, or to destroy the enjoyment you've gotten out of being babied in the past. So if this is really too much for you, you only have to let me know."

"Thank you," I said, almost crying, and reached out for a hug. Mum held me close, and whispered into my ear.

"So do you want to go home? Or perhaps I could put you to sleep for a while, so you don't have to face what you're currently feeling but Lindy won't think you're getting out of it too easily." That made me hesitate for a moment, because I remembered how worried Lindy had seemed, just for a moment. Maybe if I could go through with this, it would make her realise how cruel she was being to me. I had to believe that my sister was still a good person on the inside, and that she would eventually realise she had gone too far.

And I was supposed to be learning, too. Even if the particular lesson Mum was teaching me didn't really apply, I didn't want to disrespect her idea of discipline. If she ever thought that I was acting more fragile than I really was, I would lose a lot of trust there. That wasn't something I wanted to risk.

"I can cope," I answered. "It's too much, just being in public, having people I don't even know see me. I'm scared someone will be upset somehow, or think I'm a freak for doing this. But it wouldn't be much of a punishment if I could get out of it as soon as it got rough."

"Are you sure?" Of course I wasn't. But just the fact that Mum was asking me seemed to make everything different. Like this was something I could do to prove myself, and I thought that might make it a little easier to cope with. I just nodded, and she had time to whisper 'Good girl!' before Lindy returned with a bunch of new toys.

She hadn't picked all dolls. There was another plushie in there, a giant cat that was probably larger than most of the babies it was meant for, as well as a couple of rag dolls that were supposed to look like the characters from some popular movie franchise. And then she'd picked out a little train set, like the wooden ones I remembered from when I'd really been that small. But this one was made from some kind of foam rubber, which I guessed would be a lot more forgiving when it came to accidentally stepping on the chunky pieces. And finally, there was a plastic bucket and spade, which came with a whole bunch of plastic pieces in different shapes, and a lid with appropriately-shaped holes in it.

"What do you think, Sally?" Mum asked, switching back to the voice she used for talking to a toddler. "Do any of these look fun?"

I found myself glancing up and down the aisle, trying to make sure that nobody was going to walk past and see me dressed like this, acting like a baby. And then I took the toys that Lindy was offering me, peering at the boxes closely. I did my best not to read the text, but literacy was apparently a bad habit too hard to break. They asked me if I wanted any of these toys, but Mum reassured me that I didn't have to choose if I didn't want to. It was harder than it should have been, I knew. Because I was mortified about being like this with so many strangers around, but somewhere deep inside I knew that if I was playing baby for Mum, like I'd done quite a few times already, I would have loved any of the gifts.

I held them up as they were passed to me, hugged the soft ones, and giggled like a child. I wouldn't have felt comfortable going even that far in a public place if I hadn't looked up and down the aisle first to make sure we were alone. But Mum and Lindy both seemed proud of me for acting like a baby when I'd been told to. Lindy laughed, of course she did, while Mum told me what a good girl I was being. And in the end, based on my expressions, they decided that I might want a cuddly cat and the bucket. I blushed when Mum selected that one, but I knew right away how small it would make me feel if I pretended I was struggling with a task as simple as shape matching. It was the perfect toy, really, and it was only the situation today that was making it hard for me to get excited.

"Good girl," Mum praised me again, and I found that the blushes that had almost escaped my face came back even stronger now. "As a little treat, while you've behaved so well, why don't we go to the café and get you a little icecream. I'm sure we could all use a drink before we head home, right?"

I shook my head, but Mum presumably knew that this was the normal embarrassment, and not something that might cause me to break down. She pushed me through the aisles of the big store, all of my new toys piled up in a shopping basket, and did my best to ignore all the people I could imagine staring it me. And then we were in the café at the back of Planet Baby, which probably hadn't changed since this place used to be a furniture store. Maybe the decor, but everything substantial had been the same for as long as we could remember.

Mum got me a giant milkshake, which I looked at with mixed feelings. It was probably very nice, but I needed the bathroom more than I needed another drink right now. But I didn't want to argue now. I didn't want to draw the attention of the customers sitting at all the other tables. Maybe if I didn't say anything, and they just heard Mum cooing over me like I was a baby or toddler, that would avoid anybody realising just how weird I was being. I could hope so, anyhow. This shopping trip wasn't too embarrassing after all, and if I kept on telling myself that it might even become true.

That was the most I could hope for now.