Master Pravus continues, on occasion, to attempt to poke the “Little” beast inside of me. She may in fact be in there, but as I’ve mentioned before, it’s a fleeting feeling, and it doesn’t last long for me. He had somewhat recently got me a surprise plushie. A Friendship bear. He had been probing me to hear about my childhood trying to find more things that would provoke a “Little” type of response. Well, there’s a lot of Care bears, and he accidentally got me the wrong one. The one I was enamored with as a child was not, in fact, Friendship bear. However, I was so touched by the gesture, and how close that he’d been (I mean, the colors on these things are so similar really, he tried so hard) that I cried on the spot. Of course, I love my Friendship bear, because he took so much effort and there’s meaning behind it… But it didn’t put me in a “Little” space. He nearly crumpled to the ground in frustration.
“Damnit! Damnit! I’m so mad at myself.”
“No, I love it. It’s so special. This one is from you. I love you.”
But the magic of the bear hadn’t put me in the special headspace he’d been trying to cultivate. Just my usual weepy crybaby one. >.< I knew he’d try again, but I didn’t know when. It’s not really, like a staple of our play as I’ve mentioned before. What I do know is, it’s one of those “when you least expect it” sorts of things.
Fast forward to tubbie time the other night. There I am, sitting in the tub. I’d actually been a little.. Nervous about tubbie time recently because I had been breaking out in hives every time I’d had a bath. Hives bad enough to have to take Benny’s. >.< Not my idea of a good time. Nope. No thank mew. But we couldn’t figure out the culprit and were doing elimination washes by taking one soap out of the tub at a time. Suddenly (a few nights before the tubbie) I said to Master Pravus “Can you pass me that oat wash?”
“What this? It’s got oats in it. It can’t hurt you.”
“But. What if there’s some weirdy weirdo ingredient in there…”
It was the only thing we hadn’t thought to check because it said “good for sensitive skin” and I mean. It’s probably safe. Right? Right?!
“Master! LOOKIT! That DEMON SEED CARDAMOM AGAIN!”
“What the actual FUCK?”
We eliminated the Oaty McCardamom wash and I had no more hives. (Ohh my gosh thank goodness. I do NOT like the Benny’s. Even if, uh. Y’know. The sleeps. You definitely do sleep on them. But. Nooo I don’t wanna be all zombied.)
This leads up to me being a little worried when I stepped into my recent tubbies. I didn’t know what the next thing Master Pravus brought home from the store would have in it. He could try his best but my skin is. I mean it reacts to so many kinds of ingredients and. I mean it’s sooo hard to know what’s going to set off a rash-out.
“Kitty, Look what I got you for your tubbie today,” said Master in that voice. (You know the one.)
I turned my head to see this:
He had somehow hit some kind of nerve in my head that set off something.
“You. You got me what?”
“I did,” he said softly.
I got waaay too excite.
“Now I wish my bink was upstairs.”
He knew he had won. Completely won.
I was somehow buttery soft putty and I just gently laid my head on the side of the tub.
“Baby shampoo for Kitty,” he said softly.
“Mew mew mew,” I said, saying the words rather than making the sounds really.
There was purring. My head tried to push back against his hand.
“It smells soo good, Master,” I said to him, still purring.
“It does,” he said, using his comforting voice, instead of his rough McGruff voice.
Blissy blissy bliss Kitty. It didn’t last that long, but I had a very very “Little” tubbie time that day. He may well be working his way into the right spots in my brain. Slowly.