You, When You Were Two

Grab the dog by the scruff of his neck and shove your face in his face, feeling his hot breath against your cheeks. Dog slobber drips down onto your toes. He looks at you with frustrated eyes, but he doesn’t growl, because he knows his place. You both know he is your living stuffed animal. It’s a rough job, but we all have our burdens to bear.

A tot and her Old Man Dog.

“Leave your shoes,” mama says from somewhere behind, hovering near an open door. You stumble sideways, then backward, trying to fling them off. Only one of them makes it into the vehicle, but that’s not your problem. Back to the scruff of the neck of Old Man Dog, who is now trotting forward, lifting a leg every two feet. Peeing is important business. Mama is always talking about pee with you. “Do you need to go potty? Are you sure you don’t need to? Remember not to pee in the bed!” There is so much to think about with pee, it’s no wonder Old Man Dog pees on everything. Maybe you should do that too.

No, no, bad idea! It almost happened, but you stopped yourself just in time.

That place with the mermaids.

Shrieks of birds are in the sky, surround sound, like the shrieks of those flying creatures in brother’s dinosaur book. You stare at them, thinking that is probably something to keep a close eye on for as long as you are there until—oooh! A hair barrette! So pretty, so pretty, ooh and clicky, ooh and—

The sewer! With rushing water! And what’s that down there—

You’ve been picked up. You squirm and kick at the indignity of it all. “Cars are coming,” mama says. You squirm and kick anyway, because you are two and sewers are so interesting and cars should wait! But no one agrees, so you’ve been overruled. You intend to be infuriated forever, and ever and ever, until—

Lost Treasure.

Oooh a shell! Sand between the toes. Sand that goes on forever. Warm wind wraps around you like the snug blanket on your bed—the one with the owls. You trudge forward, swaying a bit on that soft terrain because you’ve only be walking for a year. It’s not like you are running any races yet. Or are you? The water is in the distance but it is growing closer rapidly…

Seaweed. It smells like salt. Like one big block of salt. Or maybe salt smells like seaweed. The water rushes against your ankles. There is no gentle lapping here. Only rushes. The bar of sand you stand on sinks in around you, taking your legs into it up to the knee, until the inevitable happens, and you fall forward. The current is sucking the water back to where it belongs all around you, but you are no weakling—you are two! You stand up like a lighthouse, while the most glorious thing happens: Mermaids…only with fish heads. Silver fish are rushing past you with the water, their scales gleaming in the sunlight, one endless school zipping around your legs and you lunge forward to catch them, over, and over, and over…

The blasted things are too fast. They taunt you. Mama is beckoning you onward, to the sandbar. You decide to abandon the game for the better things on the sandbar. The sand glistens underneath you like lost treasure—that’s another thing from your brother’s books. The water is gentler here, and it spins you around, and around, and around, and you laugh and laugh and laugh…

You, that time you played Troll Under the Bridge to scare the other children. (It was your brother's idea.)

Until it is time to go. Mama carries you this time, because the never ending sand is too much. You are only two, there is really no need to run any races. Your chubby cheek makes for a convenient pillow against mama’s shoulder. You thought you caught a glimpse of one of those silver fish off in the distance, while the ocean seems to be shrinking before your eyes. The sun is hot; mama’s smell is comfortably familiar. There is the lulling sway of each of mama’s steps, and the voice of your brother sounding close but still distant.

It’s just a walk to the car...your eyes are just too heavy...just two…

And here is You, When you Were Five, in case you don't remember.