All My Mother's Rules

Chapter 65: Role Reversal

The highchair was waiting for me in the kitchen. That came as no surprise. A bib and a sippy cup sat in front of it on the table. There wasn't any food set out yet. My stomach was beginning to rumble. I hoped I was at least fed in adult portions rather than baby ones.

I lifted the tray took a seat in it, and pulled my hair up so Mom could secure the bib around my neck.

The sippy cup on the table appeared to be full of orange juice, but it was out of reach for me. I started to ask Mom for it and then realized I would need to find a way to use baby talk to make that request.

"Mama. Sippy." I pointed at the sippy cup for extra measure.

Mom appeared pleased that I had remembered to follow those new rules and walked over from the counter where she had been chopping something on a cutting board to place the cup on the highchair tray.

I had forgotten how much of a pain it was to drink out of a sippy cup. No matter how hard I strained, it only came out in tiny amounts. The entire sippy cup was about the amount of liquids I had been drinking before going to school in the morning.

That reminded me of something important. I couldn't allow this time in diapers to cut into my toilet training attempts. While I couldn't use the restroom as normal, this did provide me a unique opportunity to hold my bladder in as long as I could, without worrying about what would happen when I eventually peed myself.

The only downside was that without access to my phone, I wouldn't be able to accurately time how long I was waiting or keep detailed track of the results. But perhaps I would see some signs of improvement when out was back in pull-ups in a few days.

I was about halfway through the sippy cup when Mom sat down beside me at the kitchen table. She was holding a bowl of chopped-up fruit: slices of bananas and strawberries, and grapes that were cut in half.

It should have been finger food. Messy finger food, yes. But still finger food.

But Mom insisted on feeding it to me with a plastic fork. I opened my mouth as wide as I could each time she lifted the fork to my face. Even though the fork was blunt, I still didn't want to get stabbed with it.

Mom didn't make any cute noises for me this morning during the feeding. It was a good breakfast, at least. It certainly beat cereal.

Mom hadn't done much to dress me this morning. She had only swapped up my nighttime t-shirt for a clean one. That didn't matter much, as she had the heat running enough that my legs didn't feel cold. I was fine with bare legs so long as Mom didn't make me crawl around as part of my rules for being a baby.

Mom had said that watching TV was prohibited when she detailed exactly how thoroughly I was going to be grounded last night, but that prohibition didn't extend to watching kids' shows. After enduring an episode of Caillou, I wished I had been banned from watching that as well.

I was watching the show about that annoying Canadian brat from on the couch, while Emilia sat on the floor next to a nearly empty cereal bowl. My pacifier was back in my mouth. Mom had put it there as soon as I had finished breakfast, complete with an admonishment that it was not to come out again until she said so.

My diaper remained dry for the moment, but that wasn't going to be the case for long. I had drunk every last drop of orange juice from the bottle, and the large bowl of fresh fruit surely contained a decent amount of additional liquids.

Based on the number of episodes I had watched after breakfast. I estimated that I maybe was approaching a little over an hour since Mom had changed my diaper this morning. I squirmed anxiously on the couch. At least Mom was in the other room so she wasn't around to witness my discomfort.