(Short Story) Mitchell’s Gerber PT 4

Mitchell's Timeout Triumph

The timeout corner was Mitchell's first battlefield of the day. Thumb-sucking—a crime against parental authority—had landed him in this punishment zone. But Mitchell was no ordinary toddler. He was a strategic mastermind of chaos.

His thumb remained firmly in his mouth, a defiant gesture of rebellion. And then, right on cue, the Pampers began to tell their story. A slow, deliberate expansion. A bulge that spoke of pure infant audacity.

Mitchell waddled. Each step a testament to his loaded Pampers, a diaper so compromised it should have come with a hazard warning. He approached Zander with the determination of a tiny general, eyes locked on his target.

The high chair became his next conquest. Mitchell climbed up, and in a move of pure tactical genius, mushed his already-compromised Pampers directly into the chair seat. A smear of destruction. A mark of his triumph.

Zander watched, a mix of horror and fascination, as Mitchell grabbed his Gerber. The sweet potato assault began. Half landing in his mouth, half decorating his face like orange war paint. His chubby cheeks became a canvas of culinary rebellion.

This time, Mitchell played a different game. His Pampers remained—miraculously—clean. For now.

Night approached. The bottle came out. Mitchell sucked, his face a masterpiece of dried sweet potato and pure infant confidence. And then, as if on cue, the Pampers began to bulge once more.

One final poop. One magnificent, earth-shattering fart as he finished his milk.

Mitchell closed his eyes. Victorious. Unbothered. A tiny terrorist of digestive might.