115.)

Blossom did her best to express herself without removing the pacifier, and the mumbled and mangled words "cuddles now please" weren't exactly clear, but with context she hoped she'd conveyed her message. She was feeling all kinds of good and special and happy, and she wanted to express that contentment with physical affection.

It took me a moment to parse Blossom’s wants, but the grabby hands from the bed really did the trick. Gosh, how did I ever see this woman as an adult? What a stupid story trope I thought I'd never have the pleasure of experiencing. So I gave Blossom what she wanted.

First I had to change into my pajamas, which I did in the bathroom. When I came back into the room, she was halfway under the covers. Her pigtails had been pulled out, but she was still in her fluffy dress. The pacifier between her lips was probably what held that childish disguise. I crawled into bed on my side and looked down at Blossom.

"Are you sure you can sleep in that? It doesn't look comfortable..."

Blossom mumbled something with her binkie in, and then let it fall from her lips and repeated herself.

"I should change, ‘cause I'm gonna wear it to the party, but I like the attention you're giving me, and I'm worried if I change you won't be as comfortable with me."

"That's fair..." The outfit really did wonders hiding her figure and her ample chest. The cut, the colors, the frills... I sighed and looked down at my fingers. I played with them in my lap, just a little bit.

"When you're dressed like this, I think it's easier to just pretend you're actually a kid. Not... you. So there's less pressure."

"Then I'm just going to need more Selkie dresses, aren't I?" Blossom winked and wiggled a little bit. "I'll hang it up in the morning and iron it before the party; I'm sure it won't be the last time I sleep in this dress. So put my binkie back in and cuddle me. I've been a good girl and I'm an excellent cuddler."

I looked at Blossom, dressed up in her adorable outfit, and then looked down at my hands. I had no idea why, but I felt so incredibly guilty.

"You're sad?" Blossom guessed. Her tone had changed, something a little lighter, a little less definitive. She was stepping back, allowing for flexibility in the conversation. No more "I'll do this" or "I'll do that".

"I dunno," I admitted, playing with my fingers in my lap. She was so afraid of losing this attention, losing this time with me. Now I was slipping. Ugh, why couldn't I just do what I was supposed to do?!

"Talk it out," Blossom offered. She sat up a little bit in bed. The pacifier dangled on the tether Amy made for her.

"I feel like I did it wrong," I sulked. "Like I'm not playing by the rules."

"What did you do wrong? What rules?"

"I dunno," I whined, tugging harder on my fingers. I was angry, but I was also sad. Angry at me, sad for her. This was coming out of nowhere.

"You don't have to baby me like this," Blossom offered, taking Amy's hands in hers. She went to pull them away, but Blossom held them firmly. Not tightly, but firmly.

"I want to," I muttered. "I like playing with you like this, and I had a really good time today. I felt a lot more comfortable. But I think that's just because I pretended you were someone else: someone that isn't Blossom."

"So I make you nervous?" Blossom asked, tilting her head. She hadn't expected that. Well, that's not true. Blossom had expected that, but she didn't expect that she made Amy more nervous than anyone else. Would she have so much trouble babying another girl, someone that wasn't Blossom? When Amy didn't reply right away, Blossom shot out a solution: "That's okay. I don't mind if you think of me as someone else, if it makes you feel better."

"I mind," I sulked. "Because I don't want to baby someone else: I want to baby you."

"Well technically you are," Blossom laughed. "Don't overthink it."

But that didn't seem to make Amy feel any better. Coming out of that intense Littlespace was already a rough ride, and Amy's emotional volatility wasn't helping. Blossom took a deep breath and tried again.

"Why does it matter? Help me understand."

"Because..." I had to stop and think about it for a moment. "Because, I feel like I'm not getting everything out of it. It's like that episode of Bluey, the one with the shadow game."

"When Bluey is sent to the Shadow Realm for losing a card game with Bingo?" Blossom teased. She only knew about that joke from the memes, but her efforts toward levity were falling flat.

"Rules are important," I said. "Maybe sometimes you have to change them when they are unfair or unreasonable, but they still matter. If you don't play with rules, you miss out on something. Pride, or... accomplishment. Or whatever."

Maybe this comparison wasn't making any sense, but sunk-cost fallacy had me in too deep.

"Pretending you're somebody else," I muttered, "means I miss out on the feeling of doing it with you. And I know you're still you; that's not what I mean. I just want my version of reality to line up with yours, even if it's scary. I don't want to play on Easy Mode, not with this..."

Maybe this wasn't making any sense to Blossom. Maybe she played her whole life on Easy Mode; it sure seemed like it sometimes. But if that were true, then why was she my friend? I wasn't anyone's Easy Mode.

Blossom thought about that one for just a moment, but it wasn't to come up with an answer. She wanted to choose the right words.

"You've never babied anyone else before, right?" Blossom knew the answer, so she kept talking. "And you want to little me - the me that kind of... makes you nervous, right?" Another one she knew the answer to, and so again she continued. "Is it possible you could think of these moments, like tonight, as a kind of practice, to help you feel more confident? Like training wheels, or how you let a little kid win a few times before you stop taking it easy on them, just so they can learn the rules, so they make sense to them?"

In the end, Blossom wasn't sure she got the perfect words. But she tried.

I wanted very desperately to play the game the way it was meant to be played, even if it was imperfect. I wanted to start now, and learn the rules as I went along. I wanted to do it right.

But Blossom's training wheels metaphor was not lost on me. Kids don't learn how to ride a bike all at once; they do it in bits and pieces. First, they learn to pedal and steer. They learn how it feels, and how to make it work. Then, when they master those parts, the training wheels come off. They have to learn an entirely new thing: balance. They fall down, they hurt themselves. But if they didn't know how to pedal or steer, they would fall down and hurt themselves a lot more. It might even seem impossible. It might be so overwhelming that they give up and never try again.

There was a Bluey episode about that too. The most important part about learning anything was not giving up. I guess I was focusing on the wrong episode of Bluey.

"You're right..." I mumbled. "I'm scared of doing it wrong, but... I guess doing it at all is the important thing right now."

"I'm so proud of you, cupcake. This is all so new, and you're dancing way outside your experience and comfort. You’re learning, and trying, and striving. And I feel incredibly blessed that you're exploring this and experimenting with me. I feel so grateful, and humbled, and just..."

Blossom actually had to stop mid-sentence to wipe her eyes because they were starting to well up.

"You're doing so good, cupcake."

"So I guess..." I mumbled.

"I guess I'll stay in this for now?" Blossom asked, motioning to the dress.

I nodded.

"Cool. Now can we cuddle?" Blossom said the last four words with a high-pitched whine.

I smiled down at her and nodded. Gosh, she really was just a baby sometimes.

I nodded off with Blossom in my arms. I'd never held Blossom in my arms before. Usually it was my head on her chest, my leg over her legs, my diaper on her thigh. Suddenly the roles were reversed.

It wasn't as awkward as the other way around. Even though I took off my glasses, I could still imagine what Blossom looked like, cuddled up to my shirt and wiggling every so slightly. Then her breathing steadied and she was still. Sometimes I would tense the muscles in my left leg, pressing it between hers, just to hear the slight crinkle. Sometimes I would reach around with my left arm - the one under her head - and twist the ends of her long blonde hair. But in the end, the dark room and Blossom's quiet breathing was enough to force my eyes closed. When I opened them again, it was still dark and Blossom hadn't moved.