Why Can’t I Crawl Through that Shiny Window?
Mama takes me all around the house with her everywhere that she goes. She goes all over the place, picking up things that I throw on the floor, using the little stick thing with a brush at the bottom to get pieces of things that are put in a little bin she calls a “dustpan,” and even the big people room where I sometimes get to take naps that she calls her and Daddy’s bedroom.
I wish I had a big bed like that with giant pillows, but instead I have a little bed with bars all around it that keeps me so I can’t get out. She calls this a crib, but I think it is kind of like that place called “Alcatraz” that we went to a long time ago. She says this is to keep me safe, but I can’t wait until I can speak better so that I can tell her and Daddy to get me a giant bed instead with huge pillows like theirs.
One of the places in our house that I like best she calls the “bathroom.” This is where I get to kick my feet in the water in my little whale bathtub and play with my little yellow ducky that floats no matter how much I try to push him down.
There is a shiny little window that Mama calls a “mirror” in there too, and inside the window is a room just like the room that we’re in. She said that it is only a “reflection,” but I don’t know what that is… all that I know is that there are suddenly two Mamas, one in there and one out here. Both of them smile, but I can only touch the one Mama that is holding me. I look back and forth and back and forth trying to figure out why Mama is kept in a little shiny thing that can’t get out. Poor other Mama, I know how she feels because my bed is like that.
There is also a little person that is always there that is about my size. The other Mama is always holding her, too. Maybe that other Mama has a house just like ours and a world just like ours and doesn’t want to get out after all. Since the room looks the same, I think the rest of the house must be the same too in that other world.
The tiny person in there always looks confused, and when I move she moves the same exact way. I don’t know how she knows what I am going to do every time when I do it, but she always seems to. I can’t touch her, but I look at her and she looks at me, and I can touch the shiny window and her hand looks like it’s touching mine but I can’t feel her, I just feel cold, shiny glass instead.
I wonder if the shiny other world is just as good as ours. Mama says that one day I’ll understand when I get to what she called the “mirror stage,” but she says that is not yet. Right now, I just want to figure out a way in there so that I can play with that other little girl. I’m the only one my size around here, and it gets lonely being the only one that crawls instead of runs and can’t reach the top of the counters.