Chapter 37 – Will happen in the morning when the mirror won't recognize me

20 Prairial Year CCXXXI, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

Ben woke first, rotating quietly out of bed. Oliver’s eyes looked dull, staring past Ben at the ceiling. Benjamin lifted the boy up, but both men made no sound. The taller man took a large sniff and smiled. He began walking slowly towards the bathroom, enjoying Oliver’s vacant lost look. He waved a couple fingers around Oliver’s face, but outside of autonomous blinking, Oliver gave no hint, he was aware of what was going on. The lights were on, but no one was home. Ben used this as an opportunity to bring Oliver closer and rubbed his large nose on Oliver’s small one.

Ben put Oliver down on the counter and began taking off the boy’s thick wrinkled diaper. Oliver gave no response. The wrinkled blue garment had expanded over the night and the giant was not surprised to see the yellow staining on the inside. He carefully bundled the plastic and cloth into a ball and disposed of it in a trash bin. He tossed Oliver’s shirt to the side, leaving him naked on the counter. Oliver gave no indication he was aware, beyond the occasional opening and closing of his mouth.

“I think you need a good cleaning. How about a shower with your dad?”

Oliver blinked a couple times, neither acknowledging nor declining the request. Ben took it as encouragement and turned on the water. He left Oliver sitting on the counter edge, returning with towels, a pull-up, and a change of clothes for the boy. Oliver still had not responded, so Ben picked him up by the waist, and the two walked into the shower. The tub was thirty inches tall, Oliver stood nearly motionless, in the large enclosure.

Ben cleaned himself first and then scrubbed some shampoo into Oliver’s hair. The boy did not flinch as soap started to accumulate on his forehead. The giant turned Oliver’s head into the torrent and carefully washed it. He then took a large squeeze bottle, carefully opened it, and squirted it into a washcloth. He rubbed it into the cloth and then handed it to Oliver. The boy held the cloth in his hands, stretched but took no action.

“Wash down your body, especially down below, but don’t get any on your face or head.” Like a puppet Oliver rubbed up and down, oblivious as black and brown build up started to fall away from his skin. When he had sufficiently rubbed down his body, Ben turned off the shower, grabbing the washcloth from Oliver and reaching over to the hairnet he had placed near the drain. Disposing of both, he picked up Oliver, toweled the boy, and then laid him on the counter.

Ben reached into a drawer and pulled out shaving cream and blade. He applied it all along Oliver’s neck, chin, and cheeks. With a barber’s delicate precision, he sliced the hairs on Oliver’s face. Ben frowned, at this point he expected Oliver to snap to attention. He opened another drawer near the sink and pulled out a long medicinal tube. He squeezed the oily contents of it out on his large index finger and began rubbing it into Oliver’s face.

He took Oliver’s small hand and squeezed a large glob into it. “Go ahead and rub that all around, down below, along your legs and arms, everywhere.” The catatonic body did as instructed; Oliver’s mind was still lost in the astral plane.

“This is going to sting a bit,” Ben warned.

It took about five seconds before Oliver’s skin started to warm, and then, that warmth quickly sharpened into a fast pain. It was like touching a hot pan, everywhere the cream had been rubbed started to burn, which included Oliver’s testicles.

The boy’s mouth opened as if in a yawn but then vibrated in sharp pain. His mind might have been ten thousand planets away, but the pain was a beacon dragging his consciousness back to Amazonia.

“What the…” Oliver stopped his swear, squishing his hands open and closed, biting his mouth through the tingling of his skin. He reached over to the tube Ben had left on the counter. The yellow and blue tube had been squeezed half empty, partly obscuring the name Vellocin InhibiMax. Oliver turned it over and read the smaller print on the back.

“Removes terminal and auxiliary hair and restores vellus hair in three days. Blocks androgen build up in hair follicles for one year. Avoid use in cold or wet climates.”

“Why would you put this on me,” Oliver said with a bite, tossing the tube to the side, staring up at the larger man and then shaking his head in disappointment.

“You didn’t object,” Benjamin joked.

“I didn’t… I was ….” Oliver was unsure of how to describe what had happened. Last night was too weird. He had done something he had not done in decades. He had seen his parents have sex. He had slept in their bed. He had traveled to another dimension with the power of thought alone. He had seen his parents have sex.

“It’ll help, with your condition, it’ll help keep you clean.” Ben finally explained.

“I don’t have a condition…” Oliver started.

“Oliver, you were wearing a diaper to bed when I first met you.” Oliver tilted his head, unsure of how to answer that. His sense of self was starting to shatter under the weight of this dimension.

Oliver looked down gathering his thoughts. There was no point in denying what he had become, he had to work on improving himself. He looked up again at Ben. “I’m sorry, I’m trying. You’re going to help me, right? I can’t do this alone, and you promised you’re going to help me.”

Ben had not expected that. When he had added in the last line last night, he was struggling with resisting Victoria’s command, possibly giving himself an out, but the thought Oliver’s parents would help him was the most important thing Oliver had taken from their talk. Oliver had a problem, and he wanted his dad to help him with it.

This was different than making waffles or changing his son’s diaper. His son was asking him to be his mentor, his guide, and teacher. Oliver was asking Benjamin to help him overcome a problem, to help him grow up again, and become a big boy again.

Benjamin blinked and breathed out, contemplating what to do. He bent down slightly with his knees and came face to face with Oliver. He brought a large hand down on Oliver’s shoulder and smiled, “Oliver, absolutely, I have you on this. In fact, I was going to save this, but I just happened to pick something up at the store yesterday that will help. We’re the experts on this, and you’ll get the best possible treatment.”

Oliver looked over at the tube of medicine and smiled as well, eager to see what miracle cure the Amazons had discovered to deal with bed wetting. It would not be as important as milk, or the voice. A cure for nocturnal enuresis was not in high demand back home, but it could still be useful. It might even help the parents. He could still turn today into a win, if it meant he got access to some new technology. That would be worth wetting a bed or two.

***

Jennifer had joined them at the kitchen table, and Benjamin was preparing breakfast. Oliver sat in his booster seat, and Jennifer across in her own. Benjamin brought over a hot pan and started emptying chunks of scrambled eggs and bacon onto Jennifer’s plate. He returned to the counter, adding a small amount of jelly to toast and brought it over for her to eat.

Oliver looked down at his empty plate and sippy cup, pushing it forward. Ben returned to the stovetop, and filled up his own plate, before setting down to eat. He looked over at Oliver, who stared down at his empty plate, confused.

“You could have said if I’d be on my own for breakfast,” Oliver tried not to sound upset; he was more confused.

“Oh sorry, your mom has something planned for you. She wants you to fast,” Ben answered.

“We get to break fast and Oliver has to fix fast,” Jennifer added then giggled at her own joke.

Victoria was going to cook for him? Oliver thought it over, the woman was probably on tilt after the awkward breast feeding yesterday and her son walking in on her having sex. The two of them needed to talk and resolve their issues.

Benjamin took a large bite of his toast, and then stuck a finger up, “Oh right, that thing we talked about,” He leapt out of his chair, and exited the room, returning with a large gray plastic shopping bag. He dropped it beside his chair, sat down, and pulled out two large plastic boards, placing one in front of Jennifer and the other in front of Oliver.

The board was composed of forty squares, with the ten days of the week along the top, and the four parts of the day going down the rows. Colorful pictures of children doing various bathroom activities adorned the outside of the box. Some were washing their hands, others were grabbing toilet paper, and another was sitting patiently on the toilet. At the top was a blank spot followed by “Potty Chart”. Ben pulled at the attached marker on Jennifer’s and filled in “Jennifer’s” completing the line. He looked over at Oliver and pointed for the marker.

“So, this helps us track if you’re improving. There’s a spot here for each day of the week, and Aye eM, Bee eMM, Pee eMM, and Zee eMM the four parts of the day. If you make it through an eight-hour period without any accidents, you get a smiley face.”

Benjamin marked the days eleven through twenty, “I got this for Jennifer, and we got you one too Oliver, so she could have someone to look up to.”

Jennifer excitedly moved her hands over the calendar pointing at the various pictures. Hers was pink and Oliver’s was blue. Hers had also been decorated with unicorns and rainbows. Benjamin continued the explanation of how the chart worked, “So, I was with Jennifer all day yesterday, and she managed to go for me in the morning, so she gets a smiley. And we got to the potty in the afternoon and evening, so that’s three smiley faces.” He made little dots and arcs along the three squares of the nineteenth.

“Jennifer, did you have an accident last night?” Benjamin casually asked, already knowing the answer.

“No, only babies wet the bed,” Jennifer laughed. The lady had been gifted with a large bladder. Oliver crouched down slightly upon hearing that. Benjamin added another smiley to the calendar for last night for his daughter.

“Now, let’s do Oliver.” Benjamin turned with his marker.

“We don’t have to. I get what you’re trying here,” Oliver covered the calendar defensively.

“Please, you said you wanted my help,” Oliver relaxed and opened his arms.

“Can we start tomorrow? I wasn’t aware I was being tested.” Oliver tried one last time to defend himself.

Benjamin looked at his daughter and then his son, “Well, I don’t think that’s fair to Jennifer, she had a perfect day.” Oliver looked down and relented, pushing the chart over so Ben could fill it in. Ben gave Oliver three smiles, and then a large frown for ZM on the nineteenth.

“Seventy five percent, you’re still doing very good, Oliver.” Ben started turning the chart back to his son, Oliver stared at the frowny face, his own mouth dropping to match its demeanor.

“Now, you’re going to hang this on your bedroom doors, and I expect both of you to be honest with it. We are all responsible for our self-improvement. If you get confused, ask mommy or me and we’ll help you with the chart.”

Oliver rubbed his head, and let out a groan, “Why not put it somewhere for the whole world to see. Then everyone can know I’m a bedwetter.”

Benjamin straightened up and smiled, “That’s a great idea,” and before Oliver could say anything, he whipped out his phone. Taking a picture of both charts.

“What are you doing?” Oliver asked, too late to stop the picture.

Ben replied, lost in the phone’s menus, “Posting it online so the rest of your family can see.”

Jennifer giggled again, and Oliver held his hands up incredulous to the betrayal, “Social media was a mistake. It should be a banned technology.”

“Oh, look Oliver. Your Aunt Kira replied. ‘Three smiley faces Oliver. Keep trying you’ll get there.’” Benjamin turned the phone so Oliver could see the message.

Oliver focused on his breath, taking a large gasp in and out through his nose. He closed his eyes in thought, clenching and unclenching his fists. The shame was his own, but he would not be shamed by this. He would beat this. His new dad was worthless, he would need to come up with the solution himself. He decided to give his best Patton impression. He stuck his chest out, held his arm solid, and tightened his throat.

“What we have here, is a failure to plan, and when you fail to plan you plan for failure. Bedtime is a serious concern, and it requires a strategy to survive it. From now on, I’m going to make sure I don’t have any liquids in my body after dinner. I failed last night because I could not find the bathroom, that is something I’m going to practice until I get can there with my eyes closed. My plan for tonight is I’m going to have dinner, get my milk, clean myself up, brush my teeth, write in my journal, and go to bed with some fiction. I’ll even set an alarm just to make sure I have planned for every contingency.”

Jennifer could not contain herself, bursting out into laughter. Her delicate facial features crinkled, and she brought up her hand to cover her mouth. Oliver turned a bright red.

“You’re right, that was maybe a bit over the top, but, what’s so funny?” Oliver defended himself.

“You, your voice,” She squealed, pointed, and laughed.

Benjamin hit a button on his phone and turned it to Oliver. A recording of a small man sitting in front of his potty chart began to play.

“What we have here, is a failure to plan,” Jennifer started to laugh again, smashing her hand on the table. Oliver’s voice was higher pitched, like he had sucked on a balloon full of helium, what had been a tenor in his head and shifted to a soprano, his baritone deeps for the speech barely in the mezzo-soprano range.

Oliver looked down at his chart defeated, in less than a day he had been robbed of three markers of an adult man, his continence, his body hair, and now his voice. Whatever he had slept in had soaked into his vocal cords, he sounded like the six-year-old he was pretending to be.

Benjamin turned to Jennifer and handed her the chart, “Why don’t you go show your sister your chart. She’s going to be so proud of you.” The girl jumped from the table and ran, dragging the plastic along her side. Oliver and Ben were left alone in the quiet kitchen.

“This whole dimension is out to get me. I can’t handle this, I have limits, and I thought you were going to help me, and you just,” Oliver was at a loss for words. Nothing made sense. He had gone from on top of the world to a new low, and he had no idea how to get back to normal.

“Oliver, I’m not trying to hurt you, but Jennifer needs this, and I’m glad you’re helping, this is very hard for her. Do you have any idea what hell I went through yesterday to get her those smiley faces? I’m counting on you too; you have to do this for her.”

Oliver was silent, Ben was supposed to be his best friend. A tiny voice in him wanted to cry, but thirty years of being a big boy stomped on that.

Benjamin changed his tone, being supportive, “Your plan is a good one. It just has one problem.”. Oliver turned up his head and gave a stare down with an eye towards Ben.

“Breast milk is a strong diuretic. If you still want to drink it, you should do it before nap time, and set an alarm for an hour.”

Oliver blinked and then turned a soft smile, finally understanding a piece of the larger puzzle. The Nitz genetic engineering program had a drawback. His mind filled briefly with the image of the khanate in a diaper, then of the soldiers he fought on Terra. Had they been wearing pull-ups as well? In hindsight, their pants were a bit baggier than normal.

Benjamin shifted tone again, bringing his chair in closer, “Oliver, last night, knowing you were out there, stumbling in the hall, that you had done it in bed … Victoria was so ready from what you had done, between the breast feeding and that. She was crazy, more than even our honeymoon. It was the greatest sex I’ve ever had.”

Oliver did not need to hear that. What parent says something like that to their child?

Then he looked again. This was something else, he looked deep into Ben’s eyes and saw it. A twinkle, not of a father, but the look Ben had given him every time they boarded the plane. Benjamin did not see him as a child, or a son, he still saw him as his best friend, and this is what best friends talk about.

“Do you think, um, maybe once a month, do you think you could, um, maybe push your feeding to later, to just before bedtime?” Ben gave a request with a small uncertainty behind it.

Two best friends, talking about their sex lives, and despite all he had lost Oliver was a man again, “Absolutely. Hey, I’m your wingman, I’ll be there for you.”

The two exchanged a soft bump of fists.

* * *

Benjamin and Jennifer left not long after breakfast, leaving Oliver alone in the large house. Victoria woke and entered kitchen, her first stop was to head towards the coffee machine and to the toaster. She seemed uncertain of what to make for herself for breakfast.

Oliver hated this; Victoria always did this when she was upset with him. It was like she was ignoring him. She always expected him to apologize first, and to know what was wrong without her telling. With practiced humility and resignation, the smaller man started the conversation.

“I guess we should talk about yesterday,” Oliver tried. Victoria stood motionless, her back to the boy, unphased by his attempts to start a conversation.

“I, yeah… we moved too fast, I guess. Maybe I said some things that were inappropriate, I don’t remember all of it. You’re a married woman now, and dad deserves to focus on you and your needs and not be distracted by me. I’m sorry, you and he had something special going and I should have handled what happened without bothering either of you.”

“Ollie…” Victoria almost hummed it, it was not the start of a sentence, or an answer. Just a call.

“Hey, I’m trying with mom and mommy, and all that, please, I would ask you respect me too. We have to live together, and I’d like it if you called me Oliver.”

“Ollie…” Victoria was ignoring him now.

“Is this because I called you by your first name? You’re still mad at that? Did dad not explain the words mean different things? Mom,” he let a bit of vile enter the next word, “Victoria, there will come a time when I’ll need to use your name. Maybe one day you’ll get a reward, and I’ll present it and say, ‘Let’s all give a round of applause for my mother, Victoria Young.’”

She paused for a second, and then responded, “Ollie…”

“Look, that’s not fair. We’ve got a lifetime ahead of us, I guarantee at some point you’ll need to use my full name too. That’s what you moms do. One day you call us a cute nick name, and then when I upset you: ‘Oliver Swift-Young you get in here right now’. If you’re still upset at least treat me with some authority and seriousness, so I know to take this seriously.”

She paused longer on that, then, dragged it out, “Olllllliee…”

“I’m talking to a wall here, in one ear and out the other. Seriously, no more. I’m done playing nicely. Just make me some breakfast and I’ll be off for the rest of the day. You won’t even see me, and I definitely don’t want to see you.” The old words were coming back.

“Ollie…”

“Or don’t make me breakfast, I think I’d rather starve. We both know you can’t cook.” Oliver felt bad for that, he had tried to be nice.

“Ollie…”

“This is how it always goes; I try to help, and you pull some stupid mind game, and make me look like the bad guy because I escalate it. You know what, forget this. Forget you. I’m done.”

“Ollie…” Oliver did not see her smirk or hear laughter. She had not changed tone or stress at all in the past five minutes.

“You don’t think I have hang-ups about this? You don’t think this is too much for me. I’m trying. I said I’d call you mom, just respect my choices too. I don’t know what you want.”

“Ollie…”

“Stop calling me that!” Oliver picked up the plastic green fork that had been placed next to his empty plate, and with a toss threw it at his new mother. The utensil lacked aerodynamics and the throw was empty of weight. It barely touched the back of her dress, before limply falling to the floor.

Victoria stood up from the counter and turned, her eyes and face were a stone, past her Oliver could see a small timer that was ticking up. He looked down at the fork in shock and back to the tall woman, he could feel the radar lock on his plane.

“I’m sorry, doing that was beneath me, I’m just going through some difficult things lately and was running out of options. I should have shown patience and acknowledged your needs. I didn’t intend to hurt…” her giant arms were around him lifting him up in the air out of his booster. She hugged him close to her chest.

“Shh, shhh, it’s OK baby. It’s OK, mommy’s here now. That was just a test.” Victoria hugged him tightly, gently patting his back.

“I don’t understand. I didn’t know what to do. You just ignored me.” Oliver blabbered.

“That’s fine, it’s the Markowitz test. The point is to see how you can adapt and try different strategies.”

Oliver started to shake, Victoria had been his new mommy for one day and she was already playing mind games with him, “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what the right answer was.”

“Baby, there’s not a correct answer,” She reassured him, bringing her head close and touching his hair with hers.

“I got so frustrated; I just threw the fork. Please don’t hold this against me, I need to know what I should have done. Tell me what you would have done.” It was too much for Oliver.

“There isn’t a correct answer sweetie,” Victoria was warm and calm.

“Am I losing it? Am I becoming a baby for real? Did I get that disease?” Oliver’s breathing became faster. Victoria pulled him in tighter.

“A Markowitz test cannot be used to diagnose maturosis. Just relax honey, mommy’s here.” Her heart was racing, Oliver’s breathing seemed one step away from crying.

Oliver closed his eyes, pulling into her chest, one ear listening to the taller woman, and the gorgeous low thumping of her large heart and tall body. His other ear picked up a small ticking in the kitchen. He was calm enough to hear it now. Oliver pushed away from her chest, turning his head up to look her in the face.

“The test is still on going.” His response was cold and sterile, whatever emotion he showed her was gone.

Victoria became rigid and then put Oliver down on his feet. She turned and turned off the timer, taking note of the minutes that elapsed. She picked up the fork that Oliver had thrown and tossed it into the kitchen sink for washing.

It was time to end this. This was perfect. Ben was out of the house, he had her alone, he would show her real power. Oliver channeled his will into his throat.

“You’re not doing anything like that to me, ever again. No more tests, not without telling me what’s going on.” Oliver tried to sound authoritative, but his voice cracked.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Oliver.” Victoria responded. Oliver realized the problem. With his vocal cords damaged, he could not use the voice.

“Why are you doing this to me? What did I do?” Oliver was still angry.

“What did those men do that you kidnapped and tortured?” Victoria responded, as if that justified it.

Oliver’s face grew cold, all the blood rushing away quickly, his breathing became heavy given that she would even think to compare the two.

“Is that what this is about? You need to flex as a scientist? Some evils are necessary. What I did, I did to help Earth. What you did here was just cruel. It doesn’t even make sense. What are you even testing for? Huh? What were you wanting me to do? It looks like the test just exists as an excuse to see if I do something childish so you can mark it off – little Oliver thought he was a big boy but, what about the time he threw a fork, I guess he’s still a baby.”

Victoria came clean, “Oliver, your brain has all sorts of tools for adapting to the difficulties of our world. Your first instinct is to try to solve it as an adult, in a calm and fully rational way, and when that fails you modify things, you start adding in more and more emotion. When you encounter failure you adapt, specifically you increasingly regress in your strategy until you finally come to your inner child solution.”

Oliver replayed the conversation in his head. What she had said might have been an accurate description, he was not sure. It felt all like one continuous process to him, at no point did he stop feeling like an adult, and at no point did he start feeling like a kid.

“A couple weeks ago, I would never have done something like that. I should have found a different way; this place is affecting me.” Oliver looked down at his crotch, feeling his pull-up tighten a bit as he rearranged his shorts and shirt after his mother’s hug.

“It’s fine Oliver, the test doesn’t end until we see you exhaust all levels of your development. We could have been here a long time, but you’re a clever boy and figured it all out. I’m proud of all the things you said to me, you really are trying to be nice to me. It’s just that…” She paused, giving Oliver time to hang on the words, “I want you to be at your best, but your dad sometimes has other goals.”

Oliver pondered over her words. Ben had been acting strange since he had gotten back.

“What do you mean, dad has other goals?” Oliver and Ben were best buddies.

“This is going to take a minute to explain, but have you ever seen Naomi and Oliver?” She began, knowing he had not.

“The cartoon?” Oliver had heard the name a few times, but Ben forbade him from watching it.

“Tell me if this doesn’t sound familiar.” Victoria led him to the table and brought out her own phone, pulling up an advertisement for the show. She handed the phone to Oliver to hold and watch. A lingering warning entered his head, as Ben never let him watch TV.

“Hey Oliver, are you ready to go on an adventure?” Naomi began with her catch phrase. The screen flashed to a picture of a flat cartoon Oliver.

“My name is Oliver, I’m six years old, and I’m a bedwetter.” The cartoon answered, face bright and hands pushing into himself, as though proud of the accomplishment.

“They are the world’s greatest team…” Oliver stopped listening. The cartoon boy’s words were familiar. He carefully whispered them again, “My name is Oliver, I’m six years old, and I’m a bedwetter.”

“You’re going to need six tapes just to keep your diapers on, because we’re going on the greatest adventure yet.” Naomi shouted.

Could Benjamin really be the source of all his odd behaviors? Why would he want to turn him into a cartoon?

“I need to go and record your results, stay here and I’ll be right back in a minute,” Victoria left him at the table.

For the first time in days, Oliver was free to do anything he wanted. He had the whole of Amazonia internet at his fingertips, along with his mother’s e-mail and accounts, plus the entire kitchen, an entire house to explore.

He decided to watch some more UsBox. The advertisement video ended, and he saw a suggestion for another clip from Naomi and Oliver.

It was from the final episode of the last season. A cartoon Oliver was staring at the ground walking away from Naomi.

“I don’t understand Naomi. We’ve tried it a hundred times. A hundred times we’ve taken our friends out on adventures, and in the end, they all give up. They all went right back to the toilet. We took them to the bottom of the ocean and the edge of space, and like the big boys and girls they were, they still went back to potty training. Think of all the great times we had in diapers, we showed them they could do anything they wanted in them, and every time they went crawling back to their mommy and daddy, ready to try to be grownups again.”

Oliver stared at the cartoon. What was this show? A comedy? A show about failure?

Naomi and Oliver were Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. They were Pinky and the Brain. Zim and Gir. They were Team Rocket. Naomi and Oliver were the villains, and the show was about not falling for their tricks, about the importance of choosing to grow up despite what lures and excitement diapers brought you. The show was about laughing at the villain’s setbacks in their attempts to change the world.

“Oliver, it doesn’t matter. We just have to keep trying. We’re fighting an all-powerful force, something bigger than us. We’ve always been the underdog; we shouldn’t be surprised when we lose.” Naomi counseled her cartoon compatriot.

Oliver raised his hands in frustration and turned to address his partner, “What is it we’re up against Naomi? What possible alure of adulthood can compete with even one diaper filled adventure we had.”

“Oliver, the reason we failed is that the deck was always stacked against us. All these littles, tweeners, and Amazon children we’ve been assigned to, the ones we need to encourage back into their diapers. All of them had mommies and daddies that loved them very much, who had the patience to overcome any setback, and who were willing to work with them and help them grow up into biggest kids they can possibly be.”

Naomi continued her monologue, “This enterprise was not a failure. No matter how many times those kids went back to being big kids, we still succeeded one time. That’s all that matters. We still got one little boy to go back into diapers full time.”

“Who?” The cartoon boy responded.

“You Oliver. You were a big kid, and now you’re back into diapers all the time now.”

The cartoon looked down at the ground, and mumbled, “Naomi, I have a confession.”

“No.” Naomi put up her hand to stop Oliver.

“My mommy loves me very much too,” the boy’s response carried sadness.

“Stop it! Oliver!” She started to panic.

“She said we can’t play anymore until you’re ready to act like a big girl, that I need to play with more mature kids. She thinks you’re a bad influence.”

“Oliver don’t leave me. What about all our adventures?”

“I’m sorry…” Oliver whispered.

Naomi’s cartoon faded from the screen, the colors becoming transparent and then just an outline that vanished. The camera came in close on the actor’s face. The colors shifted and became live action. Where once there was a flat six-year-old boy, now there was flesh and blood man in his late forties. He had modest signs of balding hair. The camera zoomed out, he was sitting on an oversized toilet, his face deep in concentration, and then a slow smile picked up.

The aging actor hopped off the toilet and shouted, “I did it, Mommy. I did it!”

The camera pulled back keeping low to the ground and came up behind the legs and skirt of a woman. Her booming voice came down, “I’m so proud of you Oliver, now let’s flush and then wash your hands…”

The screen faded to black, and a white text came on the center of the screen: For all those who need more time to grow up, we still believe in you.

Oliver stopped the automatic playing of the next video. Based on the suggested clips, there was a similar transition to live action at the end of every episode – the big kid always gets away from those nasty littles who are tricking them back into diapers. In the final episode Oliver got away too. The Earthling needed to watch this show. Oliver needed to understand how important it was to Ben.

“Oliver put down the phone right now,” Victoria’s voice boomed. Oliver dropped it on the table. The woman rushed forward and started to cradle Oliver.

Victoria was earnest, “Are you OK baby? You didn’t see anything you shouldn’t have, did you?”

“I don’t know …” He actually did not know. He had let his guard down to appreciate the aesthetics of the program. He now felt a strange craving, a dull yearning.

“Can I watch Tee Vee? I’d like to watch this show, I want to see if I can’t understand dad more,” Oliver asked. It bothered him he could not tell whether the new desire was from curiosity or if he had been nudged by subliminal advertising. It was like a late-night ad for Taco Bell, was he actually hungry or was the marketing tricking him?

“You saw two clips and now you want to watch some television?” Oliver nodded. She shook her head, letting him work out the conclusion she was alluding to.

“That was hypnosis? Get it out! Help me get it out!” Oliver brought his hands up to his head, concerned, trying to shake out the bad thoughts.

Victoria came down to Oliver, “OK, there is a way, I’ll do my thing. I’m an expert on this.”

This was the one advantage of having her as a mommy psychologist. She knew how all the nasty tricks worked and how to beat them. Oliver continued to be polite in his request, “Please, get it out.” He was less concerned with the slight pull of the marketing, and more just wanted to see what Victoria could do. Perhaps the ladies had some counter to the voice, that would be important to discover. Maybe he could still call this day a win, if he could bring back anti-hypnosis technology to Earth.

Victoria took a large breath and stood at her full height, blocking the kitchen light and dwarfing Oliver in shadow. Her voice deepened and grew loud, “Oliver! If I catch you watching television without my permission ever again, I will spank you so hard it will break every bone in your body. You will be eating baby food through a straw, and you’ll need to relearn how to crawl when I’m done with you.”

Oliver began to shake, confused. This was not some mommy version of the voice. She was just his mother raising her voice against a naughty child. That was not how you cured hypnosis!

“Now, do you still want to watch this Tee Vee show?” She asked.

The boy’s voice shook but stayed honest “Yes.”

“Are you going to watch it?”

“No… never.”

Victoria gave a chuckle, even if she could remove the conditioning, she preferred to have her son fighting temptation. It was better to rule him out of fear.

Oliver was defeated but there was still a chance to win, “Mom, can I read your books? I don’t understand any of this. I don’t understand the test you did. I don’t understand how the hypnosis worked in the Tee Vee show. You do, and I want to learn from the best.”

Victoria came in close again for a hug, her voice was soft, “Baby, those books contain ideas that are very dangerous and need to be put into context, but mommy will be happy to read to you later.” Oliver’s mood perked up when he heard the word dangerous. She had no intention of getting to the good stuff.

Victoria had spent time yesterday propping up her books in the living room. Her book on psychology was placed precariously at an angle, and at the slightest pull of it, the whole shelf of books would crash down. Victoria had laid a seed, and her mind already knew what Oliver’s next move was. The next time he was alone, Oliver would almost certainly try to climb the bookcase, and when he did, he would create a huge crash and mess.

That would be the day he would learn his new full name: Oliver Holmes Montgomery-Young. He would learn to respect and fear her. He had tried to trick her with that Swift-Young nonsense. He was a clever boy, but she wrote the book on manipulating littles. It was important to put a strong temptation just beyond their reach and encourage them to fail at getting it. Only through her, could Oliver get what he wanted.

“Oliver, there’s another test I want you to do, and today would be good for it because you did not eat dinner last night or breakfast today.” Victoria was friendly, giving him the option on this. He had complained earlier about being tested without permission.

“What kind of test?” Oliver had not liked the previous one.

“Scholastic aptitude. It’s for Amazon children. I just want to set a baseline of where you’re at and see how you improve by living with us. It’s a bit long. If you would rather play with toys or go outside, I can fix you a quick breakfast and we can forget it.” Her voice had only the edge of politeness and earnest. If she was trying to trick Oliver, it was not apparent in her tone. She seemed to legitimately think toys or playing outside were preferable alternatives to helping her research.

“I’m going to warn you, I haven’t been in school for years,” Oliver spoke it with a slight jocular tone, mostly to defend his ego.

“Oliver, I understand learning loss. The test is designed to work around that. You’ll see. The first half is four hours long, then we’ll break for mommy-son time, maybe a nap, and then take the second half. Your aunt and dad should be back after that. I promise you then we can do whatever you want. If you want me to read from some of my books, we can do that.”

She already knew Oliver was going to take the test, but she did enjoy making the little ones think they had a choice in the matter, that the decision had always been theirs.