Madison’s World Redux: Season Two: Episode: Twenty one

The door to Madison’s bedroom swung open slowly, and Greg and Cindy both tensed. They had lost track of time; it could’ve been minutes or hours since Madison had left, leaving them alone in the silence of their enclosure. The low hum of the house was all they’d heard for what felt like an eternity. They braced themselves, expecting to see Madison’s imposing figure stride into the room.

But instead, it was McKenzie.

She entered quietly, her tennis bag slung over her shoulder, dark circles under her eyes. Even from their vantage point inside the habitat, Greg and Cindy could tell she looked exhausted.

“Hey, guys, how are you holding up?” McKenzie asked, forcing a cheerful tone as she crouched down to their level. Her voice was light, but there was an undertone of sadness she couldn’t quite hide. The sight of her parents in the habitat still hadn’t settled with her. Every time she saw them behind the glass, it was a sharp reminder of how much had changed.

She gazed at them through the transparent walls, biting her lip. Part of her still expected her mom to come bustling into the room with a laundry list of things to do, or for her dad to pop his head in and ask about her day. Seeing them like this—tiny, contained—made her chest tighten. She fought the urge to shake her head, to pretend that everything was fine.

Greg and Cindy exchanged a look, picking up on the forced brightness in their daughter’s voice. It was hard for them, too. They hadn’t yet gotten used to the idea of watching their children move about their world while they were stuck inside this miniature version of a home.

Greg and Cindy exchanged a glance, momentarily taken aback by McKenzie’s presence. It was a relief to see her, though the weight of their situation still hung heavily between them. Cindy, who had been practicing keeping her composure, took a deep breath before replying.

“We’re managing,” Cindy said softly, trying to sound more positive than she felt. “It’s… an adjustment.”

Greg nodded along, though his frustration was barely masked. “How was practice?” he asked, trying to shift the focus away from their predicament for a moment.

McKenzie smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Long. Coach had us running drills nonstop. I’m exhausted.” She let out a sigh and set her tennis bag down on the floor, her tiredness evident in the way she moved. “I wanted to check in on you guys before I shower and eat. You look… okay.”

Cindy forced a smile, but it felt hollow. “We’re fine, McKenzie. Just… adapting.”

McKenzie frowned slightly, sensing the tension in her parents’ voices. “Listen,” she began, her tone soft but firm, “I know this is hard for you. I’ve been talking to Madison, trying to get her to ease up a bit. She’s just… well, you know how she is. She wants to do things her way.”

Greg sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ve noticed.”

McKenzie gave them a sympathetic look. “I’ll keep working on her, but you know how stubborn she can be. It’s going to take time.” She paused, glancing over her shoulder toward the door as if to ensure Madison wasn’t about to walk in. “I’m doing my best to make sure she doesn’t take things too far.”

Cindy’s eyes softened at McKenzie’s words. “Thank you, McKenzie. We appreciate that you’re looking out for us.”

“Of course,” McKenzie said, her voice filled with sincerity. “You’re still my parents. No matter what happens, I’m not going to let things get out of control.”

Greg, grateful for his eldest daughter’s support, nodded. “We trust you, Kenz. We just need you to be the voice of reason here.”

As McKenzie leaned in closer, she noticed how worn Greg and Cindy looked. It was clear they’d been through a rough day, even beyond what she had imagined. While she knew her sister was trying her best, McKenzie could sense the tension beneath the surface. Madison was still wrestling with what their mother had drilled into them—the beliefs about Littles and their place in the world—while also grappling with the fact that, despite their small size, Greg and Cindy were still their parents.

Greg and Cindy wanted to pour everything out to McKenzie, to tell her about the arguments, the frustration, the helplessness they felt. But as they looked up at her, crouched down and clearly exhausted from her own day, they hesitated. The weariness in her eyes was unmistakable. She had put so much effort into just getting through the day, and they could see how heavy the weight of it all must be on her shoulders too.

And yet, Madison’s words still echoed painfully in their minds. She had made it very clear to them earlier—any issues or concerns were to be voiced directly to her, or, even worse, to Krysi, who didn’t even live in the house but somehow held more authority over their lives than they did.

“I missed you guys. I really wanted to be here for your first real day, but I just had so much to do,” McKenzie said, her voice soft with a hint of regret. “I had to meet with the Little worker downtown after work. Then I got groceries, so it was nice that Krysi was still here. The extra set of hands made it easy.” She paused, glancing at Cindy before adding, “Madison said she’ll do a full grocery trip with you this weekend, Mom.”

As she spoke, McKenzie dangled her hand into the habitat, gently brushing her fingers over Greg and Cindy, offering them affectionate pets.

Cindy and Greg both looked up as McKenzie’s voice filled the room, her gentle touch following soon after. The soft pats of her finger on their backs were oddly comforting, though neither of them could shake the discomfort of the situation. It wasn’t the same as before, but at least McKenzie still treated them with some level of affection.

“We missed you too, sweetheart,” Cindy said quietly, her voice soft and laden with exhaustion. “It’s been… quite a day.”

Greg nodded in agreement, glancing up at their eldest daughter. “Yeah, it’s been something.”

McKenzie smiled down at them, her face warm and familiar, but there was a hint of detachment in her gaze, as if she were trying to find the balance between caring for her parents and accepting them as Littles. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier. I wanted to make sure everything was going smoothly, but it sounds like you both did really well today.”

Cindy forced a small smile, trying to play along. “Madison’s been… thorough.”

McKenzie chuckled softly, clearly picking up on her mother’s attempt at diplomacy. “Yeah, I’m sure. She means well though, Mom. She’s trying to do her best.”

Greg, still tense from the day, couldn’t help but let a hint of frustration creep into his voice. “She’s trying, but this… it’s not easy, Kenz. You know that.”

McKenzie sighed, nodding as she gently scratched Cindy behind the ear in the same way one would with a pet. “I know, Dad. Believe me, I know. But we’re all adjusting, okay? It’s going to take time for everyone to get used to things.”

Cindy flinched slightly at the affectionate gesture, the memory of Krysi’s condescension from earlier still fresh. “Adjusting,” she repeated under her breath, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and frustration.

“Mom,” McKenzie said softly, her eyes meeting Cindy’s. “I’m here now, okay? We’re going to figure this out together. I promise.” Her voice was soothing, but there was an underlying firmness, a reminder that even McKenzie saw this as a permanent change.

Greg nodded, though he still looked troubled. “It’s just hard, Kenz. It’s hard for us to see you and your sister taking control like this.”

McKenzie’s expression softened as she leaned closer to them, her voice gentle. “I know it’s hard. But I promise, we’re here for you. You’re still our parents, and we love you. That doesn’t change.”

Cindy sighed, the weight of the day pressing down on her. “I know you mean well, McKenzie. But this… it’s a lot to take in.”

McKenzie gave them another soft, affectionate pat, her touch lingering for a moment before she stood up. “It’ll get easier, Mom. I’m here to help, and Madison’s doing what she thinks is right. We’re a team now, remember? We’ll make it through this together.”

As McKenzie’s hand lifted away, both Greg and Cindy exchanged a glance. They could see the love in their daughter’s eyes, but they also knew that the path ahead was anything but simple.

As McKenzie gently petted her parents, a strange sense of closeness filled the air. Greg and Cindy, though embarrassed by the gesture, couldn’t help but feel comforted. Their daughter’s fingers were massive compared to their small forms, but the affection behind each touch was unmistakable. It wasn’t the kind of hug or kiss they were used to, but in this new reality, it was what they had.

Greg hugged her fingers tightly, feeling the warmth of her skin, while Cindy followed suit, holding onto McKenzie’s hand as if it were an anchor in this storm of confusion and loss. For a moment, the strangeness of the situation melted away, and they were simply a family sharing a quiet, tender moment.

McKenzie’s eyes softened as she looked down at them. “I know it’s different, but I love you both so much,” she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

Neither Greg nor Cindy responded immediately. They just clung to their daughter’s hand, silently grateful for this fleeting connection. Even in their current state, they were still a family, and that bond was something no size or status could ever truly take away.

McKenzie lifted her hand, her eyes lingering on her parents with a soft, affectionate smile. “Awwwe, you guys are so adorable. I missed you both too,” she said, her tone light but filled with genuine warmth.

As McKenzie’s hand left them, Greg and Cindy exchanged a glance, silently acknowledging the strange new dynamic that had settled between them and their daughters. Being called “adorable” by their own child was disorienting, yet, there was something grounding in the affection that came with it. Despite the shift in roles and the unfamiliarity of being treated like Littles, McKenzie’s love for them hadn’t changed. It was clear in her gentle touch, her tone, and the small reassurances she offered them.

Greg sighed, wrapping an arm around Cindy’s shoulder, pulling her close. “At least she still sees us as her parents, in some way,” he murmured, his voice low but filled with a faint sense of relief.

Cindy nodded, leaning into him. “Yeah… I guess that’s something.”

They both stared at the familiar, yet strange, world around them—their home, now a habitat, their life, now shaped by rules they never imagined. Yet, in this upside-down reality, McKenzie’s love was a beacon of hope, something to cling to as they navigated the ever-changing landscape of their lives.

McKenzie, what did you need to see the Little worker about?” Cindy asked, surprised to hear that McKenzie had needed to see Danielle so soon.

Cindy noticed the shift in McKenzie’s tone, that soft but dismissive sweetness. It was the same tone she had used countless times on her daughters when they were young, reassuring them with the same “It’s nothing to worry about.” Now, the roles had been flipped completely. The irony stung, but Cindy knew better than to push. She recognized the weight behind McKenzie’s words and how her daughter was now the one shielding her from the complexities of their new life.

Greg looked up at McKenzie, catching the chuckle that escaped her lips. “What’s funny?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Oh, nothing, Dad,” McKenzie said with a small smile, kneeling closer to the habitat. “It just reminded me of something you guys used to say to me and Mads when we were kids. ‘Stay in a child’s place.’” Her grin softened as she shook her head, realizing the full reversal of their dynamic. “But seriously, it’s just paperwork and stuff. You don’t have to worry about it.”

Cindy, feeling the pang of helplessness, forced a smile. “I see… well, I suppose it’s good that you’re handling it.”

McKenzie gave them a warm look. “It is. And I’ll always make sure you two are taken care of, okay? You’re my Littles now, but that just means I get to love and protect you even more.”

“McKenzie—” Cindy began, her unease growing at her daughter’s secrecy. What kind of paperwork could she possibly have to do that couldn’t have been handled yesterday? The question lingered in her mind.

“You heard what she said,” Madison interrupted as she walked into the room, glancing down at her mother. “You were told it was nothing.” Her tone made it clear that the subject was off-limits.

“Mads, it’s fine,” McKenzie interjected, trying to smooth things over. “Mom just got a little overzealous. No harm, no foul.”

Madison cast a disapproving look at her parents before turning to McKenzie with a warmer expression. “Okay, Kenz. I just came up to let you know I finished cooking the sausage and veggies, like you said,” she announced, her voice softening.

Cindy held back her frustration, knowing that pushing further would only bring more scrutiny from Madison. The sharp reminder from her younger daughter stung, but McKenzie’s attempt to soften the situation was appreciated, even if it didn’t alleviate the growing tension in the room.

Greg stayed silent, his eyes darting between his daughters and his wife. He could sense Cindy’s rising frustration, but he also knew Madison wasn’t one to be argued with once she set her mind on something.

“Thanks, Mads,” McKenzie said, flashing a grateful smile at her younger sister. “I’ll be down in a second to show you my secret to fried rice. We’ll eat together and talk more then, okay?”

Madison soaked in her sister’s praise, her expression brightening, before nodding and giving her parents one last look before turning to head back downstairs “You two stay out of trouble,” she said, her voice half-joking but with an edge of seriousness.

As Madison disappeared from view, McKenzie sighed softly and turned back to her parents. “Don’t worry about all the paperwork stuff. It’s not that important. Let’s just focus on making things easier, okay?” Her tone was gentle, but the underlying message was clear—she didn’t want them pressing further.

Cindy nodded reluctantly, her thoughts swirling with questions she couldn’t voice. She glanced at Greg, who gave her a small, reassuring nod. They were in this together, even if everything around them felt completely out of their control.

McKenzie looked back at her parents, her expression softening but still firm. “Guys, I love you. You know I do. But you can’t be doing that. You’re Littles now. You, more than anyone, should understand what people will say and think about a nosy Little. I know it’s hard, Mom, but you’ll have to trust that I’m not completely useless,” she said, her annoyance clear.

“McKenzie, wait, I didn’t mean—” was all Cindy managed before McKenzie put the lid back on the habitat.

“I’ll have Madison fetch you when dinner’s ready. We can eat as a family,” McKenzie added, her tone still tinged with irritation. She held a long stare at her mother before turning to her dad and giving him a warm smile. Then, without another word, she grabbed her tennis bags and headed out of the room.

Cindy stood there, staring at the lid of the habitat that now separated her from her daughter. The words she wanted to say lingered in her throat, but there was no point in trying to speak now. McKenzie’s words echoed in her mind, reminding her of the consequences of being too inquisitive. She knew McKenzie wasn’t useless, but it stung to be treated like this—to be told that she needed to stay in her place, the place she had once advocated for others to occupy.

Greg placed a comforting hand on Cindy’s shoulder, sensing her inner turmoil. “She’s just frustrated, Cindy. We have to give her some space,” he said softly, trying to ease her tension.

“I know, but it’s hard, Greg. She’s talking about us like we’re…like we’re pets. Like we’re incapable,” Cindy whispered, her voice filled with emotion. “And Madison…she’s starting to enjoy this way too much.”

Greg sighed deeply. “I don’t like it either, but we don’t have a choice. We have to figure out how to survive this and, hopefully, make them see we’re still their parents—even if we’re…littles.”

Cindy nodded, though the weight of the situation was pressing down on her more than ever. The prospect of eating dinner as a family, only to be treated as their daughters’ littles, left a bitter taste in her mouth.

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