A Day In The Life Of A Four Year Old Girl || Wattys2017 || Risherr216

Morning Routine

"Lizzie."

Silence.

"Lizzie, it's time to get up now."

I moan, opening my left eye. Sissy is standing in front of me. Her eyes look heavy, as if someone was pulling on them. Maybe her eyes are magic.

But I am mad at her for waking me up. So I whine.

"My name is not Lizzie."

"Sorry," she says. Her voice sounds like she doesn't mean it. "Elizabeth."

"No!"

"Liz?"

I shake my head. "It's..."

I look around the room, trying to find today's name. There's a small box on Sissy's dresser with the words "TAMPAX PEARL" written in pretty letters. I love it!

"Tampax!" I blurt out. "Tampax Pearl."

Sissy's cheeks turn very red. I realize that her whole face is magic. "No," she says. "Not that name. Pick another one."

I scrunch up my face and start to cry. "No! My name is Tampax Pearl!"

She sighs. "Fine. Whatever. Get dressed, Liz."

"Tampax!" I whine.

"I am not calling you that."

I pout. Sissy's just jealous because she doesn't get a new name every day like I do. She's just stuck with Sissy.

I watch Sissy throw her nightclothes over her head and rummage though her drawer. She picks up her Bowl Shirt and wraps it around herself.

"When can I get a Bowl Shirt?" I ask.

"A what?"

I point to it. "Your Bowl Shirt."

She lifts an eyebrow. "My bra?"

I shake my head. "Bowl Shirt."

"Where did you get that from?"

"Well, they're two bowls!" I point to them. "And it's a shirt. So it's a Bowl Shirt."

She laughs. "They're not bowls. They're called cups."

"Cups?"

She nods. "But it's not a shirt."

"What does it do?"

She thinks for a moment. "Um, I guess they just..."

"Hold drinks? Because they're cups?"

She smiles, nodding. "Yep. That's exactly right." She stretches her arms up, since I'm on the top bunk, to pinch my cheeks. "You're so smart."

Sissy's side of the room is so pretty. She has a big mirror on top of her dresser with pictures of her and her friends. There's also a drawing that I drew of myself on the mirror. I drew it with Sissy's black marker. She even named that marker. She named it "Eyeliner".

"What is this?" She yelled when she first saw it.

"You have pictures of all your friends except for me. So I drew myself on the mirror for you."

Sissy got really mad at me after that. She tried to wash it off, but she couldn't. I don't know why she got so mad; I did her a favor.

She also has the TV on her side of the room. I always use it; though. She never gets to watch it.

But that's okay. I'm sure she doesn't care.

She sits on her bed, which is the bottom bunk, as she puts on her real shirt. It is a bright blue color. I notice that it is broken.

"Sissy, pick a different shirt."

"What? Why?"

"Because that one's broken."

"What do you mean?" she looks down at it.

"It stops before it even gets to your belly button."

She laughs again. "It's called a crop top. It's supposed to do that."

"That's stupid. Won't you be cold?"

"Sometimes; but it's fine."

"Why do you wear it?"

"Because I like it."

"Why?"

She sighs. "Just worry about your own clothes, alright? I'll be fine."

I sigh too, throwing the covers off of my legs and climbing down the ladder. I walk over to my own dresser, which is much smaller than Sissy's. It doesn't have a mirror, which makes me sad.

Sissy pulls on white pants and bright blue heels that match her shirt. Sissy's really good at matching things.

Then she pulls out her paint and starts painting her face.

"Can you put paint on my face today?"

"Liz, I already told you. Makeup's for big girls."

"My name is Tampax!" I say loudly. "And I want to wear paint too!"

She sighs, painting her face a little more before putting it away. Sissy has told me before that she wears the paint to look prettier. I told her that she's pretty without the paint.

She wears it anyway.

When she leaves, I decide to get dressed by myself.

Then I have an idea.

When I'm finished getting dressed, I walk into the kitchen for breakfast.

"Well, Delaney, that's just what four-year-olds do," my Mommie tells Sissy in the kitchen. Then she turns to me. "Good morning, Liz. How did you slee-" then she cuts herself off. "-what did you do?"

Sissy sighs when she sees me.

"I'm wearing a flip flop!" I announce. "Just like Sissy!"

Sissy sighs, standing up from the table. "It's a crop top," she corrects. "And did you seriously just cut your shirt?"

I took Sissy's scissors to cut my shirt like hers. For some reason the line I cut didn't turn out as straight.

"Lizzy, we've talked about this before," Mommie sighs. "No cutting clothes."

"My name is not Lizzy!" I cross my arms. "It's Tampax Pearl!"

"What?"

"She saw my tampons, and now thinks Tampax is the perfect name for her."

Mommie covers her face with her hands and sighs.

"Come on, let's change your shirt," Sissy reaches out her hand to hold mine, but I pull my hand away.

"No!" I yell. "I want to be just like Sissy! I don't wanna change my shirt!"

"You can't go to school like-"

"No, no, no!" I yell. "I want to wear what you wear!"

"What if I wore a regular shirt?" She bribed. "Then would you change it?"

"No."

Sissy looks at Mommie, who just sighs. "I have a headache. I do not want to listen to her whining this morning. Just let her wear it."

"But she can't go into school with that." Sissy tells her.

"They have spare clothes there for whenever the kids have accidents. They'll just put another shirt on her. That way, they will have to deal with her crying. Not me."

"Okay," Sissy tells me, crouching down. "Let's get you some breakfast."

She pours me a bowl of my favorite cereal, Fruity Pebbles. While eating it, I accidently tip the bowl over and spill it on my shirt.

"Now do you want to change?" Sissy asks.

"Of course not!" I say. "Now I can smell like milk all day!"

Sissy looks at Mommie, who just laughs.