Laura decides that now is the time to leave. If she doesn’t take the chance now, she might get put back in the playpen. She waits until the woman looks away, then runs.
“Hey!” At the shout, Laura speeds up her pace. It doesn’t help. She is lifted into the air yet again. “That’s it, Miss Missy,” snarls the woman. She walks over to the playpen and drops Laura into it. The woman has now put her in the playpen twice. “You’re staying in there until the party is over. Understood?”
“But-”
“No buts! Little girls like you can’t just run off!” the woman scolds. Laura stomps her foot. She was so close to escaping! She literally wet and messed herself to get out, she can’t be back in!
“No!” Laura screams. The woman turns away. Overcome by every humiliating that has happened to her today, Laura throws herself on the floor of the playpen, screaming, and kicking. In short, she has a full-blown tantrum like the toddler she’s currently dressed as. The woman turns back, pops Laura’s pacifier into her mouth, and then leaves. Laura continues her tantrum, but now sucking on her pacifier fiercely instead of screaming.
Eventually, she wears herself out. Laura sits up, tears dried on her face, and watches people enjoying cake. Her stomach rumbles.
“Here,” says the woman, returning with a bottle of milk. She takes Laura’s pacifier out of her mouth and pops the bottle in instead. “Can’t let you go hungry.” The woman walks away. Laura doesn’t want to drink milk from a baby bottle. Her stomach grumbles angrily at her, though, and she reluctantly drinks it down in record time.
“Hey,” whispers a voice. Laura looks over. A young girl has come over to the playpen, holding a paper plate with a piece of cake on it. “I don’t think it’s fair that you don’t get cake. So, here.” The girl carefully places the cake in front of Laura. Laura smiles at her, warmed by the kindness of the girl.
“Fank you,” she says, unintentionally speaking with a toddler-like lisp. The girl beams and runs off, leaving Laura to eat the cake with her hands.
Since she’s now an established runner, Laura is watched like a hawk within the playpen. There’s no chance for her to escape. She sits on the floor of the playpen, watching the children run around playing and having fun. All she can do is suck on her pacifier. Gradually, the guests leave as the party winds down.
Eventually, there are only three people left: the woman running the whole thing who Laura now despises, the birthday boy, and Laura. The woman walks over to the playpen, intending on putting it away while she cleans up. At the sight of Laura still there, though, she pauses.
“You didn’t go home with your mommy and daddy?” the woman asks. Laura shakes her head. “Huh.”