Morning arrived quietly, with the soft light of day creeping into the room, though it hardly penetrated the thick curtains Madison had drawn tight. Cindy was the first to stir, her eyes blinking open as she lay in bed next to Greg, who was still fast asleep. She carefully climbed out of the small bed, the motions becoming instinctual in their new reality, and descended the ladder that led down to the floor of the habitat. Her feet touched the familiar pink carpet as she glanced out through the transparent walls, her eyes landing on Madison’s nightstand clock.
It read 9:30 a.m.
A sudden jolt of panic coursed through Cindy’s body. 9:30. Madison was still asleep. In their old life, Cindy never let Madison sleep past nine. She would have woken her up by now, urging her to get ready for the day, reminding her that half the morning had already slipped away. The familiar rhythm of their mornings together suddenly felt foreign. Cindy’s first thought was that McKenzie should have woken her, but then it hit her—it’s Saturday.
They had been so caught up in the overwhelming changes, so consumed by their new lives, that Cindy had lost track of the days. Her heart rate slowly settled as she reminded herself there was no rush today, no school, no hurried breakfasts or packed lunches. Just…Saturday.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease as she peered out through the walls of the habitat at her sleeping daughter. It felt like a distant echo of the past. Memories flooded back, nights when Cindy would poke her head into Madison’s room to check on her, making sure she was tucked in, or mornings when she’d gently wake her, calling out that breakfast was ready. In those moments, Cindy had always been the one in control, the mother who shaped the rhythm of the household, who made sure her children didn’t sleep the day away.
But now, she was powerless. Completely and utterly powerless to wake her daughter, to do anything at all.
Cindy gazed at Madison, curled up in her blankets, her form hidden beneath layers of fabric that rose and fell with each heavy breath. What had once been the gentle, endearing sound of her daughter’s soft snores now seemed loud and abrasive to Cindy’s ears, each breath amplified in the stillness of the room. The thick blankets swallowed Madison whole, the darkness of the room making it impossible to tell what time of day it was—except for the clock, glaringly reminding Cindy of how late it had become.
She used to pull open those curtains herself, letting the sunlight flood in, coaxing Madison out of bed. She used to call out her name, urging her daughter to get up, to start her day. But now, standing in her tiny enclosure, Cindy could do nothing but watch. The thought stung, an ache that she couldn’t soothe. Her position in this world had shifted so completely that even waking her own daughter was beyond her reach.
The snoring continued, each sound grating against Cindy’s nerves, a painful reminder of her own insignificance in this moment. Madison’s world continued to move, undisturbed by her mother’s presence. The control Cindy had once wielded so effortlessly was now lost, as distant as the memories of the life they used to have.
She looked around Madison’s room, the same room she had helped decorate, now feeling impossibly vast, like an alien landscape. The heavy curtains blocked out any light, creating a disorienting twilight that made it impossible to tell whether it was day or night without looking at the clock. It was as though time had ceased to exist here, stretching on endlessly while Cindy waited, trapped in her own daughter’s room, unable to so much as open the curtains or rouse her from sleep.
A wave of helplessness washed over Cindy. She was trapped, waiting for her daughter to wake, unable to exert even the smallest influence over her day. Madison, still a teenager in so many ways, could sleep the entire day away if she chose. And Cindy, once the one to nudge her awake, to shape the rhythm of their mornings, was left powerless to do anything but wait for her “sleepyhead” daughter to finally stir.
For a moment, Cindy felt like the child in this scenario, waiting for the adult, Madison, to wake up and decide what would happen next. It was a cruel inversion of everything motherhood had once been. And the realization cut deeper than she expected.
Trapped inside Madison’s room, inside this miniature world, Cindy could do nothing but watch her daughter sleep, her heart heavy with the weight of the life she had lost.
Cindy continued to stand in the stillness of the habitat, her thoughts swirling as she gazed out at Madison, still blissfully asleep in her bed. The weight of the morning pressed down on her, not because there were tasks to complete, like breakfast to prepare or errands to run, but because it was a stark reminder that everything she once controlled had slipped through her fingers.
She thought of all those mornings spent making sure her daughters were awake and ready, the delicate dance of balancing their schedules with her own. It had been exhausting, yes, but it was a role she had cherished deeply. Now, she was reduced to a passive observer in Madison’s world, her daughter’s routines no longer guided by her hand. That connection, that sense of purpose, was gone, and Cindy’s heart ached at the loss.
Madison’s gentle snores filled the room, yet to Cindy, they sounded thunderous. The heavy silence of the darkened room only magnified the sound. Once, in their old life, Cindy might have found comfort in the soft rhythm of her daughter’s sleep. Now, it felt like a barrier, an impenetrable wall separating them not only in size but in power. She couldn’t pull open the curtains to let in the morning light, couldn’t call Madison’s name to rouse her from sleep, couldn’t start the day the way she had for so many years.
The feeling of helplessness washed over her in waves, a bitter reminder of how far she had fallen.
Behind her, Cindy heard Greg stirring in their small bed. He groaned softly, blinking as he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What time is it?” he asked groggily, his voice thick with sleep.
“9:30,” Cindy whispered, glancing back at him. “Madison’s still asleep.”
Greg frowned, his brow furrowing as he processed the time. “That late? You’d usually have her up by now.”
Cindy nodded, her eyes heavy with sadness. “I know… but things are different now.”
Greg stood slowly, walking over to her side, gazing out through the habitat walls at the still-dark room beyond. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Being stuck in here while she just… sleeps.” He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Feels like we’re just waiting for her to wake up and decide what our day will be.”
Cindy’s eyes flicked back to the clock, its red digits glowing faintly in the dim light. “That’s exactly what we’re doing,” she said quietly, the truth of it settling heavily in her chest. “We’re waiting for her.”
Greg put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently in a gesture of comfort, but the warmth didn’t reach her heart. “She’ll wake up soon,” he said, though the words felt hollow. He could sense the depth of Cindy’s frustration, her grief, and he shared it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
The quiet of the room pressed down on them, thick and oppressive. Once, their mornings had been filled with life, the clattering of dishes, the hum of conversation, Madison’s laughter or groans as she reluctantly dragged herself out of bed. It had been chaotic, loud, and sometimes overwhelming, but it was theirs. Now, all that remained was the steady rhythm of Madison’s heavy breathing, the sound of her snores filling the space where their voices once had.
“I feel like a stranger in my own life,” Cindy whispered after a long pause, her voice trembling. She stared at the massive form of her sleeping daughter, feeling small and insignificant in a world she no longer controlled. “I can’t even wake up my own daughter, Greg. I can’t even start the day without her deciding when we get to.”
Her words hung in the air, thick with the weight of her loss. She had always been the one to set the course for their mornings, the one to guide her daughters through the day. Now, she was at the mercy of her teenage daughter’s whims, waiting for her to stir, to decide when the day could begin.
Greg let out a long sigh, nodding. “I know. I feel it too,” he murmured. His voice was filled with the same helplessness, the same sadness that had taken root in Cindy. They were trapped in a life they had never imagined, powerless to change the course of even the simplest parts of their day.
The two of them stood there in silence, side by side, watching Madison sleep. The minutes ticked by, but time felt irrelevant. They were waiting for her—their lives now dictated by the rise and fall of her breath, the slow rhythm of her sleep. And as they stood there, Cindy couldn’t help but wonder how long they would continue like this, trapped in a world where even waking up felt like something that no longer belonged to them.
Greg lay in the bed, his body curled into the limited space, while Cindy stretched out on the couch across the room-sized habitat. They had been waiting for hours, trapped in a cycle of helpless anticipation. Cindy sat up just enough to glance at the clock—it was now 1:17 p.m. The hours had ticked by slowly, with the once-early morning slipping into afternoon, and still, they sat in their enclosure, waiting for Madison to wake.
Every so often, the sound of Madison turning over in bed or adjusting her blankets would break the oppressive silence, but she never woke fully. The rhythmic noise of her snoring, occasionally punctuated by a shift in position, filled the room. Greg and Cindy could only listen, powerless to do anything but wait, the minutes dragging on as if time itself had slowed. It was maddening, this forced idleness, knowing they had no power to change their circumstances. No way to wake her. No way to start their day.
The world outside the habitat continued, with Madison still lost in her sleep, unaware or unconcerned with the passage of time. For Greg and Cindy, each moment stretched on interminably, the weight of their powerlessness pressing down on them.
Suddenly, the quiet was broken by the faint vibration and chirp of Madison’s phone, notifying her of a message. They could hear her stirring, the soft rustle of blankets as she turned over in bed. The slam of her hand against the nightstand followed as she fumbled sleepily for her phone, unplugging it from the charger with a lazy, uncoordinated motion. Cindy and Greg listened, their eyes trained on the massive figure of their daughter, who was still only half-awake. They heard the sound of typing, Madison replying to the message—, and then the faint swish of a sent text.
Another yawn echoed through the room, loud and exaggerated in the stillness. The sound of a video playing soon followed, the muffled audio filling the air as Madison lazily watched, still half-buried in her blankets. Greg and Cindy exchanged a glance, knowing they were no closer to starting their day. She wasn’t even fully awake yet, but already, she was engaging with her phone, her world, while they continued to exist on the periphery, waiting.
A few seconds later, another video started playing. The same muted sounds drifted toward them, the voices indistinct, but the familiarity of the routine unmistakable. Cindy shifted slightly on the couch, the weight of frustration and helplessness settling over her. It was as though they didn’t exist. Their lives were at a standstill while Madison eased into her day, indulging in the luxury of lazily scrolling through her phone, unaware or unconcerned with the fact that her parents were sitting, trapped, waiting for her.
Then, another chirp, a second message notification. Greg and Cindy could see the subtle movements of Madison’s hand as she swiped across the screen, switching applications with practiced ease. More typing, the mechanical click of her fingers on the glass surface of her phone, followed by another sent message. Another video. This time, a low chuckle escaped from her, groggy but amused, as she laid back in bed, slowly waking up at her own pace.
Cindy’s stomach twisted as she watched. The sound of Madison’s phone, her casual movements, and her soft laughter felt like a painful reminder of how much had changed. The mundane ease with which Madison navigated her morning was a stark contrast to their own reality, one where they had no say in when the day began or how it unfolded. They were reduced to spectators in their own lives, waiting for Madison to decide when they could participate.
Greg sighed softly beside her, the tension palpable in the enclosed space of the habitat. Neither of them spoke, but the unspoken frustration between them lingered in the air. They had spent their lives raising Madison, guiding her, ensuring she was ready to face the world. Now, they were completely at her mercy, waiting for her to wake up, waiting for her to acknowledge them, waiting for her to decide what their day would be.
And Madison? She was still half-asleep, scrolling through videos and sending messages, blissfully unaware of the weight her parents carried as they sat, trapped in their own world, unable to do anything but wait.
The tension inside the habitat thickened with every passing minute, pressing down on Greg and Cindy like an invisible weight. They sat in silence, their eyes trained on Madison as she lay in bed, completely absorbed in her phone. Each moment she spent casually scrolling, oblivious to their existence, felt like a cruel irony. The contrast between her carefree morning routine and their restless, powerless anticipation was hard to stomach. The ease with which she ignored them, whether it was the indifference of a distracted teenager or a deliberate choice, was a bitter pill that Cindy could barely swallow.
Cindy stood up from the couch, her legs stiff from hours of sitting motionless on the sofa. She began to pace the limited area of their habitat, the soft carpet beneath her feet doing nothing to alleviate the gnawing sense of helplessness building inside her. Every tick of the clock seemed to mock her, each second a reminder of how little control they had left. She wanted to scream, to demand that Madison look at them, acknowledge them, remember they were there, waiting. But even as the thought formed, Cindy knew it would do no good. Even if Madison heard her, what would it change? At best, she might get a half-hearted acknowledgment; at worst, another patronizing reminder of her place in this new order.
Greg remained seated, watching Cindy pace with quiet frustration. His patience, something he had always prided himself on, was wearing thin. “It’s like we don’t even exist,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and resigned. He hated feeling this way, so passive, so small. All his life, he had dealt with challenges through calm reasoning, but now, his resolve was crumbling. This new reality, where their entire existence hinged on the whims of their teenage daughter, was pushing him to the edge.
“I can’t stand it,” Cindy whispered, her voice trembling as she came to a stop, her back turned to Greg. “I hate feeling this powerless, Greg. I hate just… sitting here, waiting for her to decide when we matter.”
Greg looked up at her, and the frustration in his own chest deepened at the sight of her standing there, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “I know,” he replied softly, his voice heavy with the same helplessness. “But what choice do we have? This is our life now.”
Cindy shook her head, her breath shaky as she fought to hold back the tears. “It’s not fair,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “We were good parents. We did everything right. How did it come to this?”
Greg didn’t have an answer. He stared past her, his eyes drifting toward the massive world beyond the transparent walls of their habitat. The room stretched out before them, vast and unreachable, a world that had once been theirs but now seemed so distant. The bed, the dresser, the cluttered floor, everything was the same, yet utterly changed. They were cut off from it, trapped in this miniature space while Madison, just feet away, lived in a world they no longer belonged to.
Madison, oblivious to the silent turmoil unfolding within the habitat, continued scrolling through her phone. The faint sounds of videos playing, the tapping of her fingers against the screen, it all blended into a background hum that grated on Cindy’s nerves. Each sound was a reminder of how small and insignificant they had become in their daughter’s life. The once-strong bond between mother and child now felt frayed, stretched thin under the weight of this new reality.
A pang of grief pierced Cindy’s chest, sharp and unexpected. It wasn’t just the helplessness she couldn’t stand, it was the loss of everything they once had. The life they had built, the family they had been, it all seemed so far away now, irretrievable. The thought of spending the rest of their days like this, trapped in a state of waiting, waiting for permission to exist, waiting for their daughter to acknowledge them, was unbearable.
Greg sighed heavily beside her, as if sensing her despair. “We did everything right,” Cindy whispered again, her voice hollow. “So how did we end up like this?”
Greg didn’t respond. What could he say? There were no answers to give, no solutions to offer. They were at the mercy of a world they no longer controlled, and there was nothing they could do to change it. So, they sat, side by side, staring out at the life they had lost, while Madison, still lost in her phone, barely even noticed they were there.
They are trapped in a glass prison at the whim of one of their daughters with no end in sight, it’s an awful fate
I want to see all of Cindy’s educational materials that she had been pushing. Like how is socializing Littles not in any of that lol
I will say that Madison does socialize them. You haven’t gotten to that part yet but it does happen.
Time wise it hasn’t been that long. Like they shrunk, madison found them, the next day she took them to the hospital and bank, and met with the little worker. and then you just read through the day following meeting the little worker and now you are just starting Saturday morning.
Madison hasn’t even had them all that long. Even if she had socialized them there is still the reality of it that Madison likes sleeping in while her parents get up early.
Mckenzie is at work at the gas station. So she is not home. so there is no one but madison that just have to wait for and that’s just reality. No matter how good or great your guardian is. Thats a fact of life if you are tiny person there is down time.
Good points. socializing was probably the wrong word, but in my defence i’m tired and trying to multitask lmao.
I guess i would expect that guardians generally would have a solid schedule for their littles made up, and that cindy would have hammered that in, like with my dog I feed him and let him out in the morning at the same time everyday so I’d think littles would want that, but maybe because of “a littles place” it’s the opposite\a littles schedule’s their guardians according to Cindy.
A schedule would be the responsible thing to do. However, i was also working from the point of view that almost every teenager I’ve ever encountered who had pets is not the best about adhering to a schedule like that.
I feel likes its almost like a part of youth where the parents kind of end up picking up the slack which in this case isn’t possible.
gotcha. i guess a lot of this all goes back to that fact and the fact that this is only like day 3 so it’d be really hard to expect a schedule to be made and enforced already. I need to be more mindful of the pacing
I would learn to enjoy sleeping in if I were them. Waking up at 9:30 on a Saturday is wild. Although I’m a night owl. I enjoy staying up late.
I’ve kind of said this prior in other postings but its just a fact of life if you are a small person. You are going to have periods of time where you just need to wait for someone and a small person just has to adjust to that reality of life.
Especially as Sara is a busy person in mainline smallara which can be an annoyance for jordan who is intoverted but also means he doesn’t have to experience this nearly to the degree other littles do. As Sara carts him around everywhere with her. Where other guardians wouldn’t.
Okay this is just sad being a little suck balls or at least being a little in this family sucks.
Well one thing I really wanted to do as a common complaint i have about tiny fiction in general is that it never explores what it is actually like when they just says they put tiny person inside of cage, jar, box, etc. whatever the storage/containment device is that the tiny is being stored in. It’s just there are in this box and then time passes and then new paragraph the person comes back.
I wanted to expound about that facet of being a small person. As its not Madison being mean or cruel in this moment. She is just legitimately sleeping and then waking up as she would.
As it’s not like you have a hamster and then you wake up and bolt up and run to this hamster to let the hamster out and interact with them. The same is true for dogs with kennels and such and lizards and most other creatures.
So its just kind of highlighting a not very fun part that most people skip over. As you are seeing Cindy wake up at 9:30 and then sitting around killing time for Madison to wake up at almost 1:30.
That experience and reality isn’t unique to this story. Its just not normally covered so people don’t think about the reality of what that passage of time looks like. What it feels like.
I think that’s valid. I think we as readers don’t like it mostly cause how spoiled Jordan is in that regard as he has stuff he can do when he wakes up
Yes, that is also why people kind of roll their eyes when its said that “jordan wants for nothing” or eluding to how Sara spoils him.
It serves to reinforce in that. To show that Sara is going above and beyond for Jordan in comparison to typical treatment or expectations. SHe is spending a lot of money and time thinking things through to make Jordans life as her “whitto man” as good as it can be.
So these scenes are also meant as you have pointed out to reinforce facts and events in the mainline series to illustrate why they are said and its not just smoke.
I think the only problem with that is that a Little is more a tiny human and has a different mindset and train of thought plus higher level of consciousness and thinking. It’s already established that aside from biological differences they are essentially the same mentally and psychology as humans. So it’s like putting a person in solitary confinement. It’s very taxing however in this instance they do have each other and a view.
I don’t deny that and you are correct. It’s just an unavoidable part of life. If they weren’t in the habitat and in the open. They could be killed by an insect or spider or rodent or any number of things as there guardian slept which would pose a danger to them. While you could argue they could have a door that would be able to be opened and closed having the door puts in a point of failure of the bug, insect or rodent being able to follow them in or over power the door. Then, the argument would be the guardian was negligent for not properly safe guarding the home.
I also struggle to think how taxing it could be mentally as they do have another person which you pointed out. However its also just a few hours. We aren’t talking about being left alone with no outside interaction for days or weeks.
1) and like that, Day 4 begins, Saturday, so they Shrank on Wednesday, Dorctors and Bank on Thursday, Madison was at school on Friday.
2.1) I also got up at 9:30 this morning and slept right through my alarm.
2.2) “half the morning had already slipped away” I also got that feeling.
3) “no rush today, no school, no hurried breakfasts or packed lunches” is not like she’d be dealing with those anymore anyway.
4) “Everything she once controlled had slipped through her fingers.” Well, it’s not like she thinks someone like her could control these things.
5) “balancing their schedules with her own. It had been exhausting, yes, but it was a role she had cherished deeply” Now, she does sound like a good mother with lines like that.
6) “That late? You’d usually have her up by now.” that’s practically the only thought she’s had yet, mate.
7) “it was now 1:17 p.m.” ok, that’s a ridiculous sleep-in, what time did she go to bed last night? McKenzie should have woken her up by now.
Or McKenzie could just get Greg and Cindy, they haven’t been fed yet and she’s supposed to be the responsible one.
Actually, I’m realising McKenzie may be at work. It’d be funny if that message Maddie got was Kenz checking she’d gotten up and fed their parents, and Madison’s reply was lying claiming she had, then Kenz expressed Gratitude or pride with her next message, having unquestioningly believed Madisn’s first.
8) Madison watching videos in her bed makes sense, but it’d be hell for them to not be able to do the same, Can’t wait for them to get that entertainment device you mentioned they would be.
9.1) “We were good parents. We did everything right. How did it come to this?” you taught her this was what your situation was supposed to come to.
9.2) “Greg didn’t have an answer” I bet he did, he just wouldn’t have wanted to upset Cindy.
10) This is what they were doing most of Friday, but unlike Friday when there was a set time Madison couldn’t be home before, the fact Madison could get up at any moment would offer them a hope that would make this situation worse.