Shaun's eyes fluttered open to the soft gray light seeping through the curtains. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed red: 7:00 AM. Perfect. An hour before Cassandra's alarm, and Clara would be starting her routine.
His gaze slid to his mother, asleep beside him. Her chest rose and fell gently, hair spilling over the pillow. Peaceful. Innocent. If only she knew what her baby boy was planning.
Time to move.
Shaun shifted, dragging his small body toward the edge. His muscles felt heavy, clumsy. 'Come on, move faster.' One leg swung over when...
A warm hand pressed his back.
"Shit," he breathed.
"Where are you going, my little Shaun?" Cassandra murmured, eyes closed, still lost in dreams. Her hand lifted her shirt slightly. "Don't you want to suck mama breast?"
Her nipple peeked out, soft in the morning light. Temptation coiled in him. One taste...
He shook his head. 'No. Focus. The quest comes first.' Carefully, he moved her hand to the pillow and crawled free.
Shaun resumed his careful descent from the bed, each movement calculated and deliberate. The bedroom door stood slightly ajar, as it always did. Cassandra never fully closed it, claiming she needed to hear him if he needed anything during the night. Today, that habit would work in his favor.
He crawled through the doorway and into the hallway, pausing to get his bearings. The house was simple in its layout: three bedrooms arranged in a neat line. His and Cassandra's room, Clara's room directly across the hall, and the guest room at the far end that nobody ever used. The living room and kitchen stretched out beyond, connected in an open floor plan that made the small house feel more spacious than it actually was.
Clara's door was firmly shut, as always. She was the silent type when she slept, unlike his mother who had a tendency to snore softly and talk in her dreams. He wished Clara's door was open like theirs, but that would have made this whole plan too easy.
'Time to get going.' Shaun took one crawling step forward and immediately felt his body protest. His limbs felt weak, unsteady. 'Why am I feeling like this? Now don't tell me...'
A familiar warmth spread across his backside, and the unmistakable smell confirmed his suspicions. 'Oh shit. I pooped on myself again.'
The timing couldn't be worse, but there was no helping it now. He'd have to ignore the discomfort and push forward. He needed to get to the kitchen before his window of opportunity closed.
The journey down the hallway felt longer than usual, his body fighting him every crawling step of the way. By the time he reached the kitchen, his arms were already tired.
The kitchen was compact but efficient, designed for someone who actually enjoyed cooking. Pots and pans hung from hooks near the stove, spice racks lined the walls, and the countertops were cluttered with the tools of someone who took their baking seriously. Cassandra kept most of her ingredients in the upper cabinets, the everyday items within easy reach, and the more specialized things higher up.
Shaun checked the time again: 7:15. He had forty-five minutes to create the perfect distraction.
His eyes scanned the available options. Flour sat in a clear container on the counter, white and powdery. Too easy to clean up. A bag of rice rested next to it, but scattered rice would just be annoying, not the kind of mess that would require real attention. Sugar was nearby too, but that wasn't the chaos he was looking for.
He needed something that would demand immediate cleanup, something that couldn't be ignored or postponed. Something that would require Clara to...
His gaze fell on the plate of cookies from yesterday, the ones Clara had enjoyed after work. That's when it hit him: oil. Cassandra used oil for almost everything she baked, and she made cookies nearly every day. It was one of her favorite things to do, always trying new recipes, always filling the house with the smell of vanilla and butter.
Oil would spread, would be slippery, would be impossible to ignore. Perfect.
Shaun began crawling around the kitchen, searching. He'd seen her use it somewhere before, but where did she keep it? His first instinct was the cupboard where she stored most of her baking supplies.
He managed to pull the cupboard door open, scanning the contents. Baking powder, vanilla extract, food coloring, measuring cups... but no oil.
'Where is this thing?' Stress crept into his thoughts as precious minutes ticked by.
A quick glance at the clock showed 7:45. Fifteen minutes left.
"Shit," he muttered, panic beginning to set in.
That's when his eyes caught sight of a bottle near the sink. Vegetable oil, sitting right there in plain sight. 'Why would she put it there?'
The bottle sat on the counter next to the sink, a good three feet above his current position on the floor. The height looked impossible from his perspective, a mountain of smooth cabinet doors and slick countertop.
Shaun looked around frantically for something to help him reach it. His eyes landed on a broom leaning against the nearby wall. The handle was long enough, thick enough to potentially knock the bottle over if he could position it right.
Getting the broom was a struggle in itself. He had to crawl over to it, then figure out how to maneuver something nearly four times his own height. The wooden handle kept slipping from his small hands, and his weakened state from this morning's "accident" wasn't helping matters.
'Come on, come on,' he urged himself, finally managing to drag the broom across the kitchen floor. The wooden handle scraped against the tiles, making more noise than he'd like, but there was no choice now.
Positioning himself beneath the counter where the oil sat, Shaun lifted the broom handle as high as his little arms could manage. The weight was enormous for his infant body, his muscles straining with the effort. He pushed the handle up, trying to aim for the bottle, but it was like trying to thread a needle while blindfolded.
7:50.
7:55.
His arms burned with exhaustion. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the morning coolness. The broom handle wavered in his grip, threatening to crash down at any moment.
7:59.
One final push. Shaun summoned every ounce of strength left in his tiny body and shoved the broom handle upward. It connected with something solid.
8:00.
The alarm shrieked through the house, its piercing electronic wail cutting through the morning silence like a knife. At the exact same moment, the oil bottle teetered on the edge of the counter, wobbled once, twice, then plummeted toward the floor.
The plastic bottle hit the tiles with a wet splat, its cap popping off on impact. Golden oil began spreading across the kitchen floor in an ever-widening puddle.
Shaun held his breath, listening for any sign that someone had heard the bottle fall. But the house remained quiet except for the continued blaring of the alarm and the sound of footsteps from his mother's room above. Through Clara's door, he could hear the faint sound of her morning playlist starting up. She always showered first thing after waking, a routine he'd never quite understood but had come to rely on.
'I need to hurry.'
From upstairs came Cassandra's voice, still thick with sleep: "Clara! Is Shaun with you?"
The shower sounds from Clara's room continued, making it impossible for her to hear the question. Perfect. His mother would assume Clara had taken him for his morning routine, just like she sometimes did. Everything was going according to plan.
Shaun heard Cassandra's footsteps on the stairs, followed by the familiar sound of her settling onto the living room couch with her phone. Her morning routine: check the news, scroll through social media, ease into the day while assuming Clara was handling baby duty.
Oil continued spreading across the kitchen floor, creeping toward the living room threshold. Time for the special ingredient.
"Mama," Shaun called out, making his voice as clear and deliberate as possible.
"Mama," he said again, louder this time.
Cassandra's head snapped up from her phone, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Did you just... did you say mama?" Her voice trembled with emotion, thick with nostalgia and wonder. Not caring where his coming from.
"Say it again, baby. Please, say it again."
"Mama."
Joy flooded Cassandra's face as tears welled in her eyes. She dropped her phone and rushed toward him, scooping him up from the floor with trembling hands. "Oh my god, Shaun! You said mama!"
'Now call Clara about it,' Shaun thought with satisfaction.
"Clara!" Cassandra shouted toward the bathroom. "Clara, get out here! Shaun just called me mama!"
The shower sounds stopped abruptly. Within seconds, Clara's door flew open and she emerged with a towel wrapped around her body, another towel turbaned around her wet hair. Water droplets still clung to her shoulders and chest, and the towel barely contained her curves.
"He said what now?" Clara hurried over, her face lighting up with excitement.
"Tell Clara, sweetheart. Say mama again." Cassandra had already pulled out her phone, camera app ready to capture the moment.
"Mama."
Clara's expression shifted to mock jealousy, though her smile remained bright. "Oh, so that's how it is? What about Clara? Come on, say Clara."
Shaun screwed up his face, making it look like he was trying very hard. "Cla... cla..."
"He'll say it when he's ready," Cassandra said gently. "He's just learning. This is all still new to him."
"Well, he's got all day to practice," Clara said with a grin. "Since I'm off today, we can work on it. But first..." She reached for Shaun. "Someone needs a bath. I can smell that diaper from here."
Just as Clara was about to take him, Cassandra's attention shifted toward the kitchen. "What is that all over the floor?"
Clara followed her gaze and gasped. "Oh my god, what is that mess?"
"Who made this?" Cassandra's voice rose with stress as she surveyed the spreading oil slick. "How did this even happen?"
"I've got to finish my shower," Clara said, already backing toward her room. "Can you...?"
"Take Shaun to your room," Cassandra said, already moving toward the kitchen closet for cleaning supplies. "I can't watch him and deal with this at the same time."
Clara nodded and scooped Shaun from his mother's arms. "Sure thing. Come on, little man."
As they walked toward Clara's room, she leaned down and whispered, "You wanna take a bath with Aunty Clara?"
Shaun smiled up at her, his mind racing with anticipation. 'With all the pleasure in the world.'