Brainwashed

"It's time to go pick up Excitement." I announced.

Bubba was laying on the floor, surrounded by Legos, chairs placed on green plastic lego trays, Lego men arranged meticulously around them.

"Nooooo!" Bubba whined. "I don't wanna pick up Excitement."

"You don't have to clean up," I assured him. "We can play more when you get back."

I glanced at the clock, hoping I wasn't lying. It was 6:00. It would be 6:30 when I got to the shop. 7:00 when we got back to Nonnie's, 7:30 was bath and 8:00 was bed.

"No. I don't like Excitement," he whined.

"Bubba!" I exclaimed. Where had this come from? He and my boyfriend Mr.
Excitement had always played together. They were close. Bubba was always saying "I'm Excitement's boy," and "Excitement is my friend," to anyone who would listen.

I took a deep breath and tried to figure out how to approach this. I wanted him to feel free to express his thoughts but I didn't like what I was hearing.

"Excitement will hurt you." Bubba said solemnly.

"No, no, no, no, Baby! Who told you that?" I asked but I already knew.

At 11:00 that morning I'd reluctantly passed Bubba off to his father to attend a party Bubba didn't want to go to. He had clung to me as his father pried him off my neck. When he returned he was exhausted, high on sugar and acting afraid of going back to Excitement's mother's house where I'd been living. Once I got him home and got some crackers and milk to absorb some of the sugar, he'd settled down and become wrapped up in Legos.

"Who told you that Mr. Excitement would hurt you?" I asked again.

"Daddy said."