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My little sister always does things before me. She learned to walk before me. She learned to talk before me. (And she’s been talking ever since. About ponies, and princesses, and all the other things she’s going to be when she grows up: Chef. Astronaut. Ballerina. Mom… On and on she goes, about her dolls, about her friends—Seriously, it’s like she never stops talking! Man, is that ever annoying sometimes…) She learned to read before me. She learned to swing before me. Now she runs, and jumps, and climbs way better and faster than me. She went from a tricycle to a big-girl bike in no time, and I still haven’t taken off my training wheels. She loves getting new toys and wearing new clothes and trying new foods. She’s even learning to cook like the Pioneer Woman. Meanwhile, I’m too scared of the butter knife to spread the peanut butter on my sandwich. Even though she’s a whole six years younger (Nuh-uh, five ’n’ a half!
she always insists), it seems like she’s already way better than me at everything.
She’s way braver, too. I’m always too afraid of getting into trouble to risk it. But my sister will do all sorts of things she’s not supposed to, like it’s no big deal. Like coloring outside the lines. Or getting into Mom’s special makeup drawer in the back corner of the sink. Or sneaking an extra cookie when nobody’s looking. Even if she gets caught, she always just smirks and shrugs it off. I wish I could be like that…
Anyway, that’s my little sister. Quicker and smarter and braver than me. So, of course, it doesn’t surprise me one afternoon when I catch her doing something else against the rules. Something else I’ve been curious about, but too scared to try.
Mom says never to shut the door all the way except for bed or nap time. Well, it’s a little early for nap time, but my sister’s door is pulled almost completely closed, leaving just a crack. I peek around the edge and try to get a better look.
That figures. Like usual, she’s made a big mess. If there’s one thing my little sister loves more and does better than anything, it’s making messes. Today it’s the fort again. She’s pulled off all the blankets and pillows and stuffed animals from her bed and piled them up in this huge mountain in the middle of the room. And there she is, sitting on top of the whole thing, like a princess on her throne, legs dangling on either side. Looks like she’s moving too—rocking back and forth and bouncing like when she asks to play horsey. Her eyes are closed, and she’s humming and giggling softly, with a satisfied smile stretched across her face.
I’m not quite sure what she’s up to, but based on how happy she looks, and how sneaky she’s being, it can’t be anything good.
I lean in even closer, straining to see more.
“I know yur watchin’ Say-Say,” her sing-song voice taunts from inside.
Oh no! I must have been breathing too loud. But now I’m caught. No point in trying to hide anymore. I push the door further open but don’t step all the way inside just yet.
“What are you doing, Callie? Is it something bad?”
“Not bad, jus’ fun. I call it mish-mash. You wanna try with me?”
Mish-mash
? That sounds… well, not bad exactly, but definitely weird. But whatever. Callie makes up silly words for things all the time. Still, she’s being awful sneaky.
“You know Mom doesn’t like it when you close the door during daytime,” I remind her.
“Yeah, but Mommy’s not here, ’member? C’mon Say, it’s fun. Feels real good.”
Feels good. Hmm. I know some things that feel good are good, like hugs, and swinging, and bubble baths. But some things that feel good are bad, like ice cream, and tv, and staying up late. Lately at church and school, it seems like they’re telling us more and more things are bad. Hugs are good but kissing is bad. Love is good except when it’s bad. Getting married is good, but lots of other people are doing it bad, especially if it’s two boys or two girls doing it. It’s been a lot to keep track of. Sometimes I’m not really sure what to think anymore…
I’m not sure how to answer Callie, either. “Uh, I don’t know…” I mumble. “What if she comes home early and catches us?”
“She won’t.”
Callie seems so sure of herself. I wish I could be that confident. I hover in the doorway. My feet feel like they’re glued to the carpet.
“Say-juh,” she huffs, stretching my name into two syllables. She always does that when she’s being annoying, or trying to trick me into doing something that will get us in trouble.
“Cah-lie-oh-pee,” I echo. We rarely use each other’s full names. Most of the time she calls me Say-Say
, back from when she was too little to say sissy
. She can say it the right way now, but the nickname still stuck. One time I asked our mom why she named my sister after such a beautiful flower, but me after a boring, plain ol’ leaf. Was it because she thought Callie was prettier than me? Mom said no; it was because sage represents wisdom, and she knew God made me to be a wise leader for all the other little siblings I would have. (It’s just the one so far, which Mom seems sad about sometimes. Secretly, though, I don’t mind; just the one is already a lot to handle…)
Well, I sure don’t feel very wise right now. Callie always makes me feel pretty dumb.
I’m still trying to decide what to do when she lets out a big sigh. “You gonna come in ’r not? I’mma count ta three.” Uh oh! That’s what Mom does when we’re about to be in trouble. Callie thinks it’s so funny to copy her. “One,” she says in the Mom-voice. “Twooo…”
“Okay, okay, I’m coming!”
Quickly I slip past the door, making sure to pull it mostly closed again behind me. I sit down on the edge of the blanket pile she’s built and curl my knees to my chest.
“Fine, see, I’m here.”
From inside the room, I get a better look at Callie. She’s wearing one of my hand-me-down T-shirts. It used to fit her like a nightgown, but lately she’s grown so much it’s basically just a normal shirt. Her bare legs are sticking out, and, hey, wait a minute!—
“Where are your pants, goofball?”
She likes to do that too. Back when she still wore pull-ups Mom said it was okay. But ever since she started wearing big-girl panties like me, Mom’s always chasing her around the house trying to get her to put her pants back on. If she does it around Dad, he always gets super mad, and he and Mom start fighting about it. So Mom said it’s only okay in her room at nap time. I guess it is almost nap time, so it’s not too big a deal, but still…
“Took ’em off,” Callie laughs. “Makes it gooder.”
“It’s better. And, it makes what better, Callie?”
“I tol’ you, mish-mash.”
Right. Mish-mash. I guess I’ve got some investigating to do. Like Darby and Buster.
“Okay…” I begin, “So, what exactly is mish-mash?”
“Ya know, like when Ree Ree makes mash-a-tatoes on tv.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, it’s mashed po-tatoes.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but it sounds funny. Masha-tatoes, masha-tatoes…” she trails off in a fit of giggles.
I wait for her to calm down, then try again, “So, what makes it like mashed potatoes?”
“I put the pillow ’tween my legs, see like this”—she points down to the pillow—“on my pirate place. And then”—she starts to wriggle around again—“I smash it like Ree Ree smashes the ’tatoes.”
“Your private place…?” I correct nervously. Oh man… we are in big trouble! Now I know what Callie’s talking about. At least, I think I do. I’ve heard kids whisper about it at school. At school they don’t talk about… it very much, but everything they say about it is bad. Our class doesn’t even talk about it yet, but after Bible class some of the older kids were making jokes about self-excuse
and aneurisms
. I didn’t really know what they meant; but whatever it was, it sounded like it hurt. I thought only boys could do it anyway—although my girl friends (Girl friends, not girlfriends. Girls aren’t allowed to have girlfriends. Girls aren’t allowed to have boyfriends either, at least not until they’re older…) have all been snickering about it too. In the bathroom, or the locker room before gym class. I used to not care, but lately I’ve felt kind of left out and curious. But still way too embarrassed to ask any questions.
I can’t believe Callie already knows more about it than me!
“You shouldn’t be doing that, Callie,” I scold her. “It’s only for grown ups. For mommies and daddies when they get married. If Mom finds out—”
“’m not doin’ anythin’ bad, Say-Say! Promise! C’mon, I’ll prove it. Lemme show ya.”
“I don’t know…”
“Pleaaase!” she whines.
She’s just gonna keep bugging me till she gets what she wants, so I might as well give in. “Fine, maybe just for a little while.”
“Yay!” A huge smile explodes across her face, and I can’t help but grin back.
“Alright… so how does mish-mash work?”
“I jus’ rub the pillow up and down ’gainst my place and keep mashin’ till it starts ta tickle. Sometimes instead the pillow I use one’a my stuffies. One time I even used Elmo. He tickled a lot. That feeled real good. Sometimes I lay on my belly and wiggle like a worm, but most’a time I do it like this.” She bounces on the pillow again. “Gets all nice and warm in my belly. Feels like flyin’, jus’ like ridin’ my bike!”
Huh, the bike. Maybe that’s why I’ve never figured this thing out. Now I’m getting even more curious. “How did you learn to do it?”
“Dunno. One day I was ridin’ my bike and the seat feeled funny and good. My place got all hot and tickly. When I come’d back inside, I put the pillow there an’ started playin’ bike till it feeled sparkly. I know it’s real good when I hafta pee. So I do. And then—”
“Oh my gosh, Callie! You still pee your pants, on purpose?! That’s so weird!”
“Nuh-uh, it’s da best part!”
Maybe Callie’s not as far ahead of me as I thought. At least I’m old enough to not have accidents anymore—well, most of the time. Every once in a while I’ll still have one with a bad dream. I always feel so embarrassed about making a mess for Mom to clean up the next morning. It’s so gross and dirty.
“So seriously, you just… pee? Right on your pillow? Callie, won’t that make a mess?”
“Only a lil’ bit. But that’s why I get the rug.” She stops mashing for a moment, hops up, and runs over to her bed. She digs underneath, scooping through a bunch of random toys, until finally she pulls out one of the old towel scraps Mom keeps in a bin in the laundry room. Mom cuts them up and saves them for rags to clean up all sorts of messes around the house.
“Did you steal that from Mom?”
“Not steal, jus’ borrow.”
“Riiight, just like you”—I pinch the air, like Mom does when she argues with Dad—“borrowed my crayons and then gave them back all broken.”
“Yup!” Callie laughs, carefree.
I roll my eyes, but chuckle too. Maybe later I’ll have to teach her the difference. At least for now we have something to use.
Callie takes the rag and lays it over the pillow, then sits back down, but beside it instead of on top. She continues explaining, “Sometimes I do mish-mash in the tub so I don’t hafta clean up. Or when I take a bath, the water sprays all over my place, and that feels real good too.”
“Puh-lease tell me you at least don’t pee in the bathtub while you’re still in there?”
“Only sometimes,” she snickers. She tries to wink, but still hasn’t quite figured out how to shut only one eye. Instead, she scrunches them both closed and flashes me a big, goofy smile. Then she pushes the pillow toward me. “Okay Say-Say”—she pats the pillow—“yur turn. Now you try.”
“Uh… I don’t know…”
This whole conversation has been making me feel really weird. I think I know what tickly feeling Callie’s been talking about, because it’s been happening to me a lot lately. At really random times, too. When I’m sitting on the couch watching a movie. Or at the table eating dinner. Or getting ready for bed. Sometimes even when I’m in the shower. (But I do not pee in there, yuck! Well, at least not on purpose…) And especially if I ever accidentally think about… it.
I’m feeling the tickle right now. As Callie’s been telling me about mish-mash, my privates have been getting hotter and hotter. Hmm… Maybe they would feel better if I gave it a try? It does sound kinda fun, doesn’t it? Even if it’s wrong. Plus, I don’t want to disappoint Callie—or worse, look like a baby.
“Alright,” I shrug, “I guess I’ll try it.”
Callie claps and laughs.
I climb on top of the pillow and spread my legs apart, one on either side. “Like this?” I ask as I start to rock around. Callie nods. Now that I’m actually trying it, I feel kinda silly. It’s not really feeling very good yet, more like just uncomfortable. “I don’t know, Callie, I don’t feel much of anything. I don’t think I’m doing it right.”
“Take yur pants off, it’ll feel good—uh, bedder.”
“But then you’ll see.”
“Is no big deal, Say-Say. I’m doin’ it.”
“Yeah, but…” I hate getting undressed around anyone. This year at school we’ve started changing for gym class, and I’m always so embarrassed. One day, some of the girls were comparing panties—and even pulling them open and showing each other their private places! I hid in the stall until everyone had left. Most of my panties are pretty boring now anyway. Not too long ago I had to get rid of my last pair of Piglet ones because my bottom had gotten too big for them, just like Mom complains about in the mirror. Callie’s panties still have fun things on them—today she’s wearing Elsa—but mine are just plain colors. At least these ones are pink; it’s my favorite. I guess they are kind of cute… Okay, Sage, you can do this.
“Don’t look, okay?” I order Callie. She nods, and covers her eyes with her hands.
I close my eyes too, and take a deep breath, then grab my pants and slip them off. Now I’m wearing only my shirt and panties, just like Callie—except my shirt isn’t even close to long enough to cover me up. I’m pretty much naked! A couple years ago, when Callie could barely even walk, she and I used to take baths naked together all the time. But not anymore. Those were pretty nice though…
When I open my eyes up again, I see Callie’s staring back at me, big and round. She looked. Of course. Oh well.
“Okay, I’m gonna try again.” I get seated back on the pillow, and—woah, Callie was right. I feel a lot more this way. I start moving around again, and the pillow is rubbing right through the panties onto my privates. Everything’s starting to feel all tingly down there. My face is heating up too, almost like when I have a fever.
“Feelin’ good yet?” Callie asks, prodding one of my thighs.
“Yeah, it’s… funny, but good.”
“Good,” she grins, then grabs another pillow from the pile and smooshes it between her own legs. “I’mma do it with ya.”
We keep mashing, and the tickly feeling starts getting stronger. First it lifts into my belly; it feels bubbly, like when I drink pop. (Mom only lets us have it on special occasions, and I always drink way too much. It makes me burp, and I get so embarrassed.) My stomach is rumbling, almost like I’m hungry, but… different. I squirm around some more. Now the feeling’s spreading out, down my legs and up my arms. My fingers and toes are tingling like when I sit on them for too long and they fall asleep. I’m starting to shiver—even though I’m hot, not cold—and goosebumps are popping all over my skin.
I see what Callie means about peeing, too. I haven’t yet, but I can feel my panties are starting to get all wet. They’ve been doing that sometimes lately too.
I’m getting kind of tired, though. Especially my legs. Mish-mash is hard work.
“Hey Callie?”
“Yeah?”
“So what do I do now?”
“Jus’ keep goin’.”
“But like… until what?”
“Till you feel the sky boomies.”
“Sky boomies?” I repeat. Callie calls thunderstorms and fireworks sky boomies
. When she was really little, she used to be scared of both. During them she’d always sneak into my bedroom and snuggle up next to me. Now she loves them. I hate most loud noises, and I still don’t like fireworks, but for some reason I’ve always loved thunderstorms.
“Yeaa-uhh,” she declares, like it’s super obvious, “is when the tickle gets real big. Firs’ ya gotta pee, like the rain, then after there’s a big ’plosion in yur place, and that’s the sky boomy.”
I’m still not so sure about this whole peeing thing. “Are you sure this is how it’s supposed to work?”
“C’mon, don’tcha trus’ me?”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. Peeing. Got it.”
I turn back to focusing on mashing. The tickle keeps growing stronger and stronger, filling up my belly, and pushing lower. It’s pressing on my privates, and—
“Oh man, Callie, I don’t know if I can do it anymore. I really have to pee. I don’t wanna make a mess.”
“I tol’ you, is what the rug’s for. C’mon Say, don’t be a fraidy cat.”
“Okay, I’ll try.”
Thankfully, I can’t actually remember the last time I had an accident. They used to happen a lot more often when I was Callie’s age. They’ve been better lately, but I still worry, especially with how tingly my private place has been. Some nights I used to put a pillow between my legs to try to sleep like Mom does, and I accidentally bumped up against it—huh! Now that I think about it, I guess maybe I had tried mish-mash before, though I never called it that. I would squeeze my legs together trying to hold the pee feeling in, but sometimes it only made it worse. I was always so afraid I was going to have an accident. A couple times I didn’t think I could make it to the bathroom, so I peed in my trash can and hurried to throw away the soggy tissues the next morning before Mom noticed.
Gosh, the pee feeling is getting really intense now. “Oh man, I feel it coming!” I gasp. “I can’t hold it anymore, Callie, I think I’m gonna pee!”
“Is how it’s’pposta feel. Don’t hold it, jus’ do it.”
Oh gosh! Oh man!
My private place does a tiny hiccup, and a little bit of pee spurts out, sending an extra tingly spark to my stomach.
“Oh! Oh my gosh! I did it! I peed!” I laugh a little, trying to catch my breath. “I can’t believe I did that. That felt… weird. But good, too? Did I do it right, Callie?”
“Yeah, you got it Say-Say. Now jus’ keep goin’ till ya get the sky boomies.”
I grind down harder on the pillow, and my privates feel so hot and tingly. It would almost hurt if it didn’t feel so good too. Kind of like drinking a slushy and getting a brain freeze. My belly leaps, just like on the teeter-totter. Suddenly I’m in our backyard, swinging in the sunshine. With every push I try to go higher and higher. Bending my knees and pushing, pushing. Swinging, swinging. Rubbing, rubbing, and—oh! Oh my gosh! It’s the sky boomies! A bunch of fireworks shooting off between my legs! Huge thunder blasts and a giant lightning strike! Everything down there squeezes together then bursts open, like a giant sneeze. Wetness gushes out—not just a little, but a lot this time. Like when you’ve been holding it in for way too long, and finally make it to the bathroom, just in time. Phew!
Slowly, then, everything starts to relax as the explosions ease up. Instead of thunder, now they’re more like… ocean waves, crashing against my legs. A couple summers ago we went there on vacation. It was the first time I’d ever seen water so big. Callie was probably too young to remember, but I do. It feels just like that now, the water kissing my ankles. Sparkles dance all up and down my legs, and my belly is buzzing with fireflies. Everything is bright.
The whole room had gotten pretty fuzzy, but it’s starting to come back now. Just like when you come inside after playing in the sun, and you see all those little rainbow bubbles. I blink a few times, and then I can see Callie again: still sitting right there beside me, idly rocking on her pillow. Just watching. And giggling.
“Woah,” I manage; my voice comes out pretty shaky.
“Tol’ ya it was fun,” she smirks and laughs.
“Yeah… I think I might’ve made a mess though.” Now that my privates are starting to go back to normal, I realize how soggy everything is. I glance down to my lap. There’s a huge dark spot on the rag, and my panties are completely soaked. “I guess I better take these off.”
“Yeah, me too,” Callie agrees.
I don’t feel quite so embarrassed as I did earlier about getting undressed. Plus these things are really wet. I slip my panties down around my ankles. Besides the pee, there’s gooey stuff in there. That’s been happening a lot lately too. When I first noticed it, I thought I was sick; like my privates had a cold, just like my nose sometimes does. I was really worried, so I asked Mom. She said it’s just a part of growing up, and that she’ll tell me more about it when I get older. But if it ever turns red to tell her right away. So far it’s just been this clear-ish yellow-white color, just like—
“Eww!” Callie exclaims, pointing to my panties. “You got snot in yur undies, Say-Say!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” I guess it really was like a sneeze. “It comes out the same place as the pee, okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“I don’t have any pee-snot,” she pouts, waving her panties in the air. Then she shoves them in my face. “See! I want some like you!”
“You’ll get some when you’re older.”
“Hehe, ’kay!” she giggles. That seems to satisfy her for now.
“So hey Callie…” I ask after a moment, “Can it happen more than once? The sky boomies, I mean.”
“Oh yeah! I do it lotsa times. Sometimes fer my whole play time, or when I’mma ’pposta be takin’ a nap. It feels even goo—bedder when ya do it two or three or five times.”
“You forgot four,” I mutter under my breath.
“What-ever! Wanna do it again, Say?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s try doin’ it togedder.” She flaps her hands at me, “C’mere.”
I waddle over on my knees, until I’m kneeling in front of her. We’re both naked under our shirts, and our privates are right next to each other, almost touching.
Callie holds up her pointer finger between our faces and waggles it around. “Sometimes,” she whispers, “I use my fingers too. Like diggin’ treasures outta my belly button.” She lowers her finger to her privates and starts to rub them. “See, more tickles.”
This feels even more wrong than mish-mash—but seems that much more fun, too. Just like the ice cream. If mish-mash was a plain dish of vanilla, this is a sundae with chocolate sauce, and nuts.
Callie grabs my hand and draws it toward her privates. “You wanna try?”
I do want to, I really do, but it feels so wrong. But then, so did peeing earlier, and that turned out to be pretty fun.
“O-okay. Maybe a little.”
I rest my fingers on her privates. Her skin is so soft! It’s so smooth down there. Way softer and smoother than mine. Recently my privates have started to get all lumpy and weird. There are bits sticking out. Sometimes I’ve worried that I’m turning into a boy! And, even worse, it’s started growing hair down there! Tiny dark ones, just like when Dad doesn’t shave on the weekend, that poke when I give him a kiss. They’re so ugly. Once I tried to steal—er, borrow—Mom’s tweezers to pull them out like she does her eyebrows, but that hurt so much! I never tried it again. Now the little hairs are sprinkled here and there. I miss being smooth like Callie.
She smiles as I pet her down there and lets out a soft purring noise. “Is nice… ’kay, my turn.”
Callie reaches down and touches me there. Her fingers are way more intense than just mashing the pillow, especially now that my panties are off. She moves them around, back toward my bottom, then up toward my bellybutton. Along the way, she touches a spot that makes me jump.
“Oh!”
“Did it hurt, Say-Say?”
“No… not exactly. It just tickled, really strong.”
She keeps rubbing, and I notice her fingers bumping against one of the lumpy spots, just below where the hairs grow. When she rubs there it sends a jolt to my belly, even stronger than earlier. Almost like when we chase each other around the house in socks and play zap-zap.
“Do that again Callie, please?”
“Okay!” she giggles.
I start to rock against her hand as she rubs me, and before I know it, the rumbles are building back up. My privates squeeze tight, then sneeze again, along with another squirt of pee. It’s not as big as the first sky-boomy, but it still feels really nice.
Callie rests her fingers there for a couple moments as the soft waves come, then draws them back. They’re all wet and shiny with the pee, and more of the sticky stuff. She holds them up and wiggles them, watching the goo jiggle, then—she sticks them right in her mouth!
“Oh my gosh, Callie, eww! You’re licking pee! That’s so gross!”
She bursts out laughing. “I think it’s funny! Tastes like chicky noodle soup.”
“I bet you eat actual boogers too…” I mutter. “Goober-head.” I can’t help but laugh too though.
For a minute we kneel there quietly, then Callie speaks up again: “So hey Say-Say… what does mommies and daddies do anyways?”
“What?”
“You said before this was sumptin’ only mommies and daddies is ’upposta do. Whadda they do?”
“Well…”
That was the thing. I didn’t exactly know. I do know it has to do with it, but I still don’t really know how it works. They haven’t told us much at school, only that when a mom and dad get married, they can get naked together and sleep in the same bed, right up next to each other. Callie and I used to do that too, but we kept our pajamas on, at least most of the time. After hearing so many of my friends whispering and making jokes, I tried to ask Mom more about it, but she just said she’d tell me when I’m older. Like everything else I ask her about.
So, one day when Callie and I were playing at Grace and Sydney’s house, I asked Grace, and she stole—borrowed—a book her parents had shown her. The dad was lying on top of the mom in bed. It looked kind of painful to be smooshed like that, but they were both smiling. The book used a bunch of words I didn’t understand, like intercourse
, but it didn’t really explain what to do. Still, I don’t want Callie to think I’m dumb.
“So…” I continue nervously, “when mommies and daddies fall in love and get married, they play mish-mash together, and then God sends a baby to grow in the mom’s belly until… I don’t know, I think she poops it out.”
“A baby!” Callie exclaims. “I love babies! Jus’ like BeBe. Can we make a baby togedder, Say-Say?”
“Uh, I don’t know. I don’t think it works with two girls.”
“Aww, okay,” she frowns. “Maybe let’s pa’tend then. I wanna give BeBe a sis’er, jus’ like me ’n’ you.”
“Umm…” This feels the most wrong yet. If mish-mash by ourselves was vanilla, and mish-mash with our hands was hot fudge, this is like… the whole banana split, with whipped cream and a cherry on top. “I’m not sure, Callie. It’s supposed to only be for when people love each other…”
“But we love each udder, right? I love you.” She starts puckering up and making kissy lips at me.
“Yeah, yeah”—I reach over to ruffle her hair—“I love you too. But…”
“Please, Say-Say, I wanna play mommies and daddies with you!”
“Alright, alright,” I give in. “I guess we can try.”
“Yay!” she cackles, clapping again. “So whadda we do firs’?”
“First, mommy and daddy get naked—”
“Wahoo!” Callie shouts, then immediately tears off her shirt and flings it across the room, like she’s been waiting to all afternoon. She’s completely naked now. I haven’t seen her like this in forever, since back when she was still wearing the pull-ups. “Yur turn, Say.”
I hesitate at first. Taking off my pants had been bad enough. And then my panties; even worse. But now… my shirt! The girls at school do it so easy in the locker room. Some of them are still naked under there, but a lot have started to wear bras, just like Mom does. I still wear just an undershirt, but Mom told me I need to get a bra soon, or boys will see my chest and think bad thoughts. I’m not sure what they’re thinking about, but knowing boys, it’s probably something mean. Like poking one.
Lately it feels like someone’s been poking my chest. It’s been really sore and started to get lumpy, like two little water balloons bubbling up. And sometimes when it’s cold in church, or when something good happens that sends tingles to my privates, my chest tingles too. The pink parts puff up and poke right through my shirt. They’re doing it right now!
Well, I guess the shirt isn’t doing me much good anyway. I take another deep breath, then grab it and yank it over my head. Oh man, now I’m really, actually, totally naked.
“You got bosoms like Mommy,” Callie comments, pointing at where my chest has puffed up. “They gonna get big as hers?”
“I don’t know…” I murmur, crossing my arms to cover myself some.
“Am I gonna get some too?”
“Maybe some day.”
“Can I pet ’em?”
“I guess so.”
Callie reaches over and brushes her hand across my chest. “Soft and squishy,” she giggles. “Like ya gotsa lil’ pillow.” She rubs a bit more, across the pink parts, then—
“Ouch!” I yelp. “You pinched me! That wasn’t very nice Callie. It hurt.”
“C’mon Say-Say, don’t be cry-baby.” She pauses, then adds, “Sorry.”
It had hurt, but it felt kind of good too. Just like mish-mash. My privates, which had calmed down for awhile, are starting to get all tingly again.
“It’s fine. You can do it again. Just, not so hard this time.”
She reaches up with both hands now, squeezing my chest. Then she climbs closer to me, nuzzling her head between the two puffs. She fits there perfectly.
“What’s next?” she whispers.
“Well… sometimes I think they kiss.”
“Like this?” Callie puckers up again and gives me a big wet smooch on the lips. We used to do it like that all the time, but Mom says we’re getting too big for it now. (Cheeks only, girls.
)
“Kinda. But, I think… I think they stick their tongue in each other’s mouth.”
“Eww, gross! Let’s do it!”
I open my mouth, and Callie sticks out her tongue, like blowing a raspberry, then pokes it in there. It’s really slimy and pretty weird. I try sticking mine out too, and we wiggle them around a bit before pulling apart.
“Didja like it?” she asks.
“Uhh… not really,” I admit.
“Hehe, me too. Let’s do sumptin’ differnt. What else does mommies and daddies do?”
Oh boy, here it comes! I’ve been putting this part off, but I guess it’s time.
“Daddy lies on top of Mommy, and then, he…” I lower my voice, “He rubs his boy part on her private place.”
“And that’s how they make a baby?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Can we do it?”
“I don’t know, Callie. We’re two girls, remember? Boys are… different.” I’ve never actually seen a boy part before, except a couple times when Aunt Lisa visited and changed cousin Owen’s diaper. It stuck out even more than mine does now.
“But you said we could pa’tend, Say-Say. C’mon, please”—she tugs on both my arms—“let’s try anyways. You be Daddy, ’cause yur bigger, and I’m Mommy.”
“Alright, alright. Lie down.”
Callie leans back and nestles into the pillow pile, and I climb on top of her, one leg on either side like I did with the pillow earlier. I sink down until our private places touch. Zap! Wow, just like that, the sparkles start again. Her softness against my bumpy spot is like the fingers but a hundred times better. And all the pee and goo from earlier has made everything really slippery, too. I shift around a bit, and slide right against her.
“Ooh Say-Say, it tickles da best!”
“Yeah,” I sigh happily.
“Now we mish-mash?” she asks.
“Now we mish-mash.”
Callie wiggles around below me as I start rubbing against her. Every time either of us move it sends little shocks to the bumpy spot. I can’t help but let out more little spurts of pee here and there when a really strong one zaps me, but Callie doesn’t seem to mind. She just laughs, sometimes spraying me with some of her own. Everything feels so warm and good, like we’re back on that beach in the sand and sunshine, cool waves licking my ankles. After awhile I don’t even bother trying to hold it in anymore. The thunderstorm rumbles in the background, slow and steady, building louder and louder in my belly and between my legs, until—
“Ohh Callie!” I gasp. I hug her tight, grinding against her as the shocks sparkle through me. She doesn’t stop wiggling and giggling below me.
Finally, the tickle eases up, and we slow down, until I’m lying still on top of her.
After a moment of quiet, she leans up to my ear and whispers: “Did ya feel the sky boomies?”
“Yeah,” I answer softly.
“Me too.”
She gives my ear a little kiss, then nuzzles into me.
We lie there without moving for awhile. Just like how we used to do during the thunderstorms. I tuck my cheek beside hers—so warm and soft—and nestle into her hair. Sweet, like bubble gum—her favorite shampoo. Her heart beats gently against mine where our bare chests press together.
“That was fun, huh?” Callie murmurs.
“Yeah.”
“Can we”—she pauses, yawning—“do it ’gain a ’nudder time?”
“Sure, Callie.” I lightly comb my fingers through her hair.
“’m really sleepy now Say-Say,” she mumbles.
I chuckle. Callie may be a ball of energy, but she still tires out really easy. Looks like it’s finally time for that nap. I pull back and sit up.
“Okay, how about we get you ready for nap time now? First let’s clean up some.”
I stand up and make my way over to the dresser. Digging through the drawers until I find the wipes, I snatch them, along with a change of clothes for Callie. I return and start to wipe us both up. Just like when she was a baby, when Mom would sometimes let me help change her diapers. She’s gotten a lot bigger now, but she’s still my little sister. She’ll always be my little sister.
I guide the clean panties onto her legs, then pull the nightshirt over her head. She squeezes my hand as I lead her over to her bed, pull back the covers, and guide her to lie down.
“Hey Say-Say,” she murmurs as I tuck her in, “ya think Mommy’ll ever have a ’nudder baby? I wanna be a big sis’er like you.”
“I don’t know.” I pull the covers up under her chin and stroke her hair back. “Maybe.”
“Think I’ll be a good one? Good as you?”
“You’ll be great, Callie. Now go nap-nap.”
I give her a little kiss on the cheek, then turn for the door, making sure to grab the wet rag and our dirty clothes on the way out.
As I reach for the handle, Callie’s voice calls softly from the bed, “Love you, Say-Say.”
My heart flutters in my bare chest.
“Love you too.”
I slip out of the room as quickly as I entered earlier, feeling way less embarrassed and a whole lot happier.
After pulling Callie’s door closed most of the way, I pop into my room and put on a fresh pair of panties and clean clothes. Then I wander out to the living room, first stopping to drop off the dirty clothes and rag in the laundry hamper.
I flop down on the couch and turn on the tv. Hey look who it is: The Pioneer Woman, of course! I chuckle a bit to myself. At least she’s not making mashed potatoes. Today it’s fajitas. I watch along for awhile, mind wandering across all the fun I had earlier…
By the time Ree’s moved on to lasagne, the garage door clanks, followed by a growl as the car pulls up. Doors open and close, then Mom walks in, carrying some groceries. I hop up to help her.
“Hi Sage. You mind giving Mom a hand?”
“Hey Mom! Sure.” She passes me a smaller bag, and together we carry the groceries into the kitchen and place them on the counter. Mom starts to unload the bags, sorting out and handing me items that belong on the lower shelves in the pantry. Not too long ago I was too short to reach the middle one, and I bet it won’t be too long before Callie’s big enough to reach it too.
As we unpack, Mom talks about her day, and dinner plans, then asks, “So, what did you and Calliope get up to while I was gone? Did you two behave?”
Her voice is gentle, and she doesn’t sound too suspicious, but I’m kind of worried anyway. I’ve never been much good at keeping secrets.
“Oh, not much. We just had some fun playing together.”
There. It isn’t exactly a lie—we did have fun, after all—so I don’t feel too bad.
“That’s good,” she nods. Phew! “Did you remember her nap time?”
“Yeah Mom, don’t worry. I helped tuck her in.”
Mom’s face lights up. “That’s so nice, sweetheart. You’re such a good big sister!”
My heart glows like warm sunshine. I am pretty good, aren’t I?
“Good job with the groceries too,” she continues. “You’ve been a big help. Now, how about you go work on your homework for awhile. And then, after Dad gets home, what do you think about helping with dinner tonight? I know the potato peeler is kind of scary. But remember what we talked about? I promise it won’t hurt you.”
Before today, I would have said no. But I think back to all the other new things I tried this afternoon…
“Okay, I’ll try it!”
Dinner comes and goes—potato peeler, success!—and before I know it, it’s finally time for me to get some sleep. And boy, after such a busy day, do I need it! I’m super tired now. I’ve already brushed my teeth and changed into my pajamas for the night. Just one thing left to do.
Before climbing under the covers, I kneel down at the foot of the bed, fold my hands, and bow my head to pray:
Dear God,
Today was a pretty good day.
Maybe my little sister isn’t so bad after all. I know I complain to you a lot about her. But, even if she still sometimes is kind of annoying, it’s pretty nice to spend time doing fun things with her. We did have a lot of fun today, didn’t we? I care a lot about her.
I know I keep asking you why you made me the big sister if she’s so much smarter than me. But now I see: you wanted me to learn from her. And man, did I ever—I learned a lot. But you know what, she learned some things from me, too. We make a pretty good team.
I’m still not sure how you feel about all the stuff we did today. But I do know you want me to love my sister. And what Callie and I did together sure did bring us a lot closer. If something makes us feel good and makes us love each other more, it must be alright, right?
Well anyway, thank you for giving me your spirit to try so many things today. I feel pretty brave. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll even be brave enough to try the bike without the training wheels.
In Jesus’s name, amen.