“Goo gah! Buhhhh!” Drool dribble down my chin and my mouth erupts into a wide, would-be-toothy grin. I giggle. Mom always loves it when I giggle—she “oohs” and “ahhs” whenever I decide to flash my rosy gums. Wait, what is that…“wahhhhhh ah ah ahhhhhhhhh!” Mom knows I hate the camera. She points at my face and chants “Danny, smile!” whenever I do something cute and WHOOSH. A giant bright light fills the room and burns into my retinas. What a moment killer. “Ahhhhh ah ah ahhhhh!” Mom picks me up and coddles me with soothing phrases. Hmm, this is kind of nice. I wonder if she’ll do this EVERY time I cry. I’ll have to test it.

Oh, the playpen—the bane of my existence. Mom plops me down and heads to the kitchen, humming a nice melody. My playpen is overwhelmingly bright and happy, similar to a prison cell with a pop of color. Bunny is sitting right by me, so I reach for him, my only friend. I try to put him down nicely next to me, but I end up throwing him across the playpen. Sometimes, having short arms really bites. My search for the something to wash away my boredom is interrupted when I hear a ringing noise from across the room. With a soapy cloth in one hand, Mom rushes into the room to pick up the phone.

“Hello? Oh, hi honey! Danny’s doing just fine. He’s playing in his playpen right now. Do you know what I just realized? He’ll be nine months old tomorrow! He’s growing up so quickly. No, I haven’t forgotten. How’s work? Oh, that’s nice. Well, I’ve got lunch started, so I’d better go. Oh, before I forget, could you pick up the twins and Carter after school please? Danny hasn’t had his nap yet, and I don’t want to wake him up when I pick up the kids. Thanks! See you in a few hours.”

Mom hangs up the phone and smiles at me. I smile back because it makes her look so happy. Then I go back to toy hunting. As I search for my red fire truck, I think about how I would love it if I had someone to play with. My brother and sisters are only home after school, which seems to last forever. Carter is the oldest as a fourth grader. He plays lots of “boy games” with me, such as trucks or mud castles. Molly and Macie are both in second grade. They’re identical twins, so sometimes I can’t tell who is who. If only I was big like they are…I would have lots of playmates and I wouldn’t be alone all day.
*****

“Daniel Parker?”

“Here!” My hand shoots up. I am SO excited to be here—finally! Mom dropped Carter, Molly, Macie and me off in front of the big brick school today. Mom tells me I’m going to kindergarten. Carter tells me that there’s a part of the day called recess where all the kids go play outside on the jungle gym. I can’t wait for that! Molly and Macie tell me they were in kindergarten two years ago, so they’re experts at it.

“I would like everyone to get a crayon from the bucket on your table. We’re going to practice writing our names as our first kindergarten assignment. If you don’t know how to write your name, please try your best to copy the letters off of your nametag.”
My teacher sounds very enthusiastic. I’m so excited to pick out my crayon! I already know that I want the blue crayon. That’s my favorite—HEY! WAIT A MINUTE! The boy who sits across from me has the blue crayon! I get up and walk to his desk to ask for it because, after all, blue IS my favorite color, so I should get the crayon. It’s only fair. That boy should know that.
“Hi. My name is Daniel, but I go by Danny. Can I have that crayon? Blue is my favorite color.”

“No. Blue is MY favorite color and I got the crayon first.” Says the boy.

I look at him with my most angry face. He looks back and laughs.

“GIVE MY THAT CRAYON!” I yell with my loudest voice and snatch the crayon right out of his hands. Then I sit back down and begin to print my name neatly. Mom already showed me how to write me name, and she says I’m very good at it. D-A-N…

“Daniel! Give Nicholas his crayon back. He is so upset that you took the blue crayon from him that he can’t do his work.” My teacher looks unhappy, but he had my crayon. When I tell her I do not want to give the crayon back because blue is my favorite color, so I should have it, she looks angry and takes the crayon away from me! I am shocked. She puts a red crayon in my hand, tells me to finish my name, and then utters a horrible phrase.

“Daniel, we do not behave like babies in kindergarten. You will spend your recess inside with me, learning to share.” Then she turned to the class and reminded them “The same goes for all of you. If anyone else chooses to create a scene, he or she will join Daniel at recess.”

I can’t believe this. I’m 20 minutes into kindergarten and I hate it. I cross my arms stubbornly and loudly proclaim that I cannot possibly finish my name with the stupid red crayon because I don’t remember how. Apparently “stupid” is a naughty word in kindergarten because not only am I spending my recess with Mrs. Stupid Head, I am now in time-out for the rest of the lesson and I am threatened with the principal’s office. Anywhere sounds better than this classroom, so I decide to take her up on that offer.

“HEY EVERYBODY! OUR TEACHER IS A STUPID HEAD!”

Next thing I know, I’m being marched to the principal’s office by the lady herself. The principal talks to me about why I’m there, how I must behave if I want to be in kindergarten (she tells me I have no choice when I let her know that I don’t even want to be there), yadda yadda yadda.

“Mrs. Principal, I don’t want to go back to kindergarten. You can’t make me. So ha!” Man, I am on fire today! Actually, so is mom. She was at school to pick me up for misbehaving faster than I can ride my bike around the block. I was so happy to see her and leave school that I threw my arms around her when she walked in.

“Oh no, mister. No hugs. We are going home and you are going straight to time out after lunch. Daniel Alexander Parker, I cannot BELIEVE that you were sent home on the first day of kindergarten. You just wait until your dad comes home!”
*****

I finally find my red fire truck when mom walks in the room. “Danny, are you ready for lunch sweetheart?” Do I have a choice? Mom scoops me up and buckles me into my chair Squish! She puts a bowl full of orange mush in front of me and drops a spoon in. Next to the bowl are a few Cheerios. I try to stuff them all in my mouth at once, but Mom yanks them out because I “might choke.” I have been eating Cheerios for nearly two months now, so I can clearly handle 25 in my mouth at the same time. She talks to me a lot to keep me company, I suppose. She tells me that daddy will be home soon (I heard her say that earlier), what I’m having for lunch (I can see that), that I’m such a big boy (well obviously) and much more. Sometimes, I feel like mom thinks I don’t know anything.

After lunch, it’s time for a nap. I really hate naps. I would much rather be awake and doing something intellectual. When I wail and scream, mom comforts me again and hands me Bunny. I pretend to fall asleep so I can play with him, so as soon as she tiptoes out I sit right back up. Bunny is my best friend and he’s always ready to play.
*****
“Danny! Danny, wake up!”
I rub my eyes and yawn, looking around for mom. That’s funny…mom’s not here.
“Oh good, you’re awake! Let’s play, Danny! Let’s jump out of this crib and run around!”
I freeze. It’s Bunny! He’s real! I nod my head enthusiastically and start bouncing in my crib. Bunny shows me how to climb out and we run around my room.
“Danny, let’s go get a snack!” Bunny has great ideas. We head for the door, but it’s closed and neither Bunny nor I can reach the doorknob. I push my Jack-in-the-Box to the door to stand on, but Bunny thinks it’s so funny to wind it up and let it explode while I’m standing on it.

“BUNNY! Why’d you do that?!” The toy tossed me across the room as effortlessly as waves toss driftwood. I can feel tears welling in my eyes because I landed on a pile of big Legos, which are extremely painful to fall on. Bunny doesn’t seem to care, though, since he jumps on top of me promptly after I yell at him. Why doesn’t Bunny do whatever I want, like how we usually play?
“Danny! Hey, Danny! Daaaaaaaannnnnnnnyyyyyyyyy! Let’s see who can climb the changing table the fastest!” I have nothing better to do, so I agree to the challenge. Halfway up, Bunny falls, but he doesn’t get hurt because he’s all stuffing on the inside. I make it to the top and cheer, but Bunny gets mad.
“Ow! Bunny, stop!” Legos hurt when they become projectile weapons too, apparently. Flying play bricks aren’t my biggest problem though. I have no idea how to get down from here. Bunny’s mad at me for winning and playing in the corner by himself, and I’m getting scared….what if I fall off? I can’t cry for mom since she’ll know something is up when her nine month old is on the changing table without assistance. All I wanted was a playmate, not an enemy…
*****

Daddy picks me up and hugs me, waking me up gently. Resting my head on his shoulder, we bounce every time he steps down a stair until we get to the bottom. He sits me on the floor and goes to talk to mom when my sisters come running to hug me. Carter sprints into the room and tackles Macie, who promptly began screeching. Man, crying children sure are annoying.

After mom calms Macie and dad sends Carter to time-out, the house is almost peaceful. Molly and I quietly play until dad says he’s heading back to work for a few hours. I am not okay with this. Unfortunately, crying exhaustlessly doesn’t work on dad the same way it does with mom. I am assured that he will return soon, but I wish I could go, too. This house is so boring sometimes, and work seems like a lot of fun.
*****

My watch reads 8:32 AM as I stroll into Brinkham & Sons for a fresh day of work. Across the lobby, up three floors, down two hallways and take a right into the door with my name on it. I’ve done this same route several times a day five times a week for nearly seven years. I put my bag down on the spare chair in my small (very, very small) piece of the world, known as a cubicle to those whose imaginations aren’t as vivid. I ponder what my workday has in store for me as I pull out my laptop and open my emails. Meeting at 10:00, another meeting at 2:15, and my normal duties of entering customer information and completing orders in between. This is a slight variation of my every day routine, so I settle in to my desk and begin filling orders.

I realize at 10:02 that my meeting, which is four floors above mine, has begun and I am late, which my boss does not appreciate. I throw my laptop in my shoulder bag and race to the elevator. Never has an elevator seemed to move so painstakingly slowly. As soon as the doors open at floor seven, I’m off. My watch reads 10:04 by the time I arrive at Conference Room C—that must be some sort of company record. I apologize and tell my boss I was in the middle of a very important customer interaction, and he nods as I take my seat. During meetings like this one, my mind usually wanders when we get to finances. I was never very good at math as a kid, but my fourth-grade brother Carter sure is. Man, I miss my siblings sometimes. I should take them to the park today after work; I bet they would enjoy that. Especially the twins, Molly and Macie, who love the swings. I remember when I—

“…What do you think, Dan?”
My boss looks intensely at my and his deep, booming voice echoes in the cave-like room.

“Sounds great, Kevin. That’s a wonderful idea!” I hold my breath and watch his face to see if he can tell I pulled my answer out of thin air.

“Dan, I knew you would agree. I’m so grateful to have a man like you on my staff. I know you’ll do a great job on this project.” Project? What project?! I have to act fast or Kevin will find out I have no idea what’s going on.

“Oh, sure thing Kevin. Hey, would you mind emailing me a formal project proposal so I know exactly what is expected of me?”

“Dan, I thought I was pretty self-explanatory with my instructions.” My boss’s tone becomes suspicious toward the end of his sentence. I start to sweat.

“Oh, well I just want to make sure I’m doing everything perfectly. I like to have guidelines to follow as I work, y’know?” Kevin seems satisfied with this answer and agrees. I sigh a little and check my email for the proposal as soon as I can. My eyes open as wide as grapefruits and my jaw hits the floor when I read what I agreed to. Oh boy…
*****

Daddy walks in for the second time today, and I am elated. He picks me up and suggests to mom that he take my siblings and me to the park before dinner (Mom readily agrees—alone time is rare in her life). As I roll along in my stroller, watching my brother and sisters skip and dance ahead of us, I am hit with the realization of how nice it is to be a baby. Everything is taken care of, everyone loves me, I have no real problems, stress, or responsibility, and for possibly the only time in my life, I am completely content being myself and with my current situation. Sure, I may not have any friends outside of my family or get to go to work or school each day, but I have a wonderful mother to take care of me, toys, siblings to play with, and Bunny who is always there. Things may not always go my way, but that won’t change as I get older. I guess being a baby isn’t so bad after all. Well, for now at least.