You blink blearily. You feel fogged, but the moment you feel wet, you start awake screaming. All that comes out is a baby's high pitched wail.
"There, there, dear. You fell fast asleep at the mall."
Aunt appears over you, towering like a giant. But she doesn't look the same. She looks younger, a young woman even, fully breasted as well.
"This time the magic's gone further than I've ever seen it. You changed while you napped. You can't be more than a few weeks old at best. And look at me. I haven't looked this good in years! And the house," She picks you up as if you weigh nothing. "The house has given me so much! Baby toys. A rocker. A baby swing. A pantry of diapers, wipes, a dresser full of clothes, a crib in your room, and this changing table."
She settled you down on it as she said the words.
"I don't want you to be worried. . . . No stay still, child. You're no teenager. You're a newborn." At first you tried to move, but she laid her hand on you.
"Like I said, don't worry. I've never seen things change so much, but its never gone beyond five days." You barely hear her whisper, "in my memory."
Your eyes go wide.
You feel exposed on the changing table, but more than anything you want to be clean. After the diapering she reaches for jammies. These ones have no legs! "Sorry, but you don't need footies yet. to until you walk. And these make it so much easier to change in the night."
As she leans you against her breast, she speaks. You can barely pay attention. You feel drawn to feed. You here something about reading a book and curiosity as to why she could only find sleep bags in green and pink.