Waking up the next day—or at least what I assumed was the next day—was not the experience I expected. I didn't think I'd miss my old alarm clock blaring in my ear at 6:45 a.m., but instead, I was greeted by two very loud people arguing in their strange fantasy language.
[MAN SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
[WOMAN SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
Their voices sounded like they were in some kind of competition. Not the angry kind of argument but more like two people who were trying to prove who could be the loudest and the most... tidy? I couldn't understand the words, but their frantic gestures and dramatic pointing at what looked like a mop gave me a pretty good idea of what was going on.
Apparently, cleaning was serious business around here.
[MAN SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
Relax, dude. It's not like the dust bunnies are planning a coup.
[WOMAN SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
And there she goes again. Amara—or Mom, I guess—was wiping down every surface in sight. She scrubbed so hard, I thought the table might burst into flames. I could almost see her inner monologue: If this house isn't spotless, how will we survive?
[MAN SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
Evan—or Dad, I guess—wasn't any better. He was meticulously folding what looked like baby clothes, smoothing out every wrinkle like his life depended on it. My new dad, the warrior of perfect creases.
I had to admit, the dedication was impressive. Weird, but impressive.
That's when it hit me: my parents were clean freaks.
I'm not talking about the "let's keep the house tidy" kind of clean freaks. No, this was next-level stuff. They were the kind of people who probably dusted their windowsills daily and polished the spoons after every use. And here I was, a guy who once left a pizza box under his bed for three weeks because "it wasn't in the way."
This was going to be a problem.
[WOMAN SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
[MAN SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
Whoa, whoa, what's the rush? The baby's fine! That baby being me, of course. But judging by the way Mom was pointing at me and Dad was nodding like she'd just discovered the meaning of life, I wasn't off the hook.
Sure enough, Mom swooped in and picked me up like a hawk grabbing its prey. The sudden motion made me feel like I was in a roller coaster commercial.
"Hey, hey, easy! I'm fragile here!"
Not that she could understand me, but still. A guy can try.
She inspected me like I was a museum artifact, her eyes narrowing as she scanned for... dirt? Imperfections? Wrinkles in my onesie? I wasn't sure, but her laser focus was unsettling.
[WOMAN SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
She gave a triumphant nod, as if to say, This baby is spotless. Good job, team.
Dad, meanwhile, was already prepping a tiny towel and what looked like a small tub of warm water. Oh no. Were they planning to bathe me? I mean, I just got here. How dirty could I be?
[MAN SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
Apparently, very dirty, according to their standards. Within seconds, I was placed on some kind of baby-sized massage table, and the scrubbing began.
"Okay, okay! I get it! Cleanliness is next to godliness and all that, but take it easy!"
Amara's hands were gentle, but her determination was terrifying. I was wiped, rinsed, and patted dry in record time. Dad stood nearby like a coach at the Olympics, nodding approvingly with every pass of the washcloth.
By the time they were done, I felt like a squeaky toy fresh off the assembly line.
[MAN SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
[WOMAN SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
They exchanged a few more words, clearly satisfied with their handiwork, and then set me back in my crib. I wasn't sure if I should feel grateful or violated.
It was only then that the events of the previous day started coming back to me. The goddess. The reincarnation. The system screen. And, of course, the thing that triggered the system screen.
Yeah. That.
I shifted uncomfortably in my crib, already feeling the faint rumblings of round two brewing. Oh no. Not again.
"Come on, body. Work with me here. I just got a fresh diaper. Do you really want to go down this road?"
Unfortunately, my internal monologue wasn't enough to stop the inevitable. I groaned inwardly as I felt the pressure building, and before I could mount a proper defense, nature took its course.
Great. Fantastic. Eighteen years of dignity, gone in two days.
But then, like clockwork, the glowing system screen appeared again, right in front of my eyes.
[SYSTEM ALERT: LEVEL UP! You've gained +1 Endurance!]
"Seriously? Endurance?"
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. At least the system had a sense of humor. Still, I couldn't deny the weird rush of energy I felt. Like I could take on... well, not the world, but maybe a strong breeze.
And then I realized something far worse.
Mom and Dad were clean freaks. Which meant the aftermath of my little "event" wasn't going to go unnoticed for long.
Sure enough, the moment the smell hit the air, both of them froze. It was like watching two wolves catch the scent of an intruder. Their heads snapped toward me in unison, their eyes wide with horror.
[WOMAN SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
[MAN SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
"Hey, hey, don't look at me like that! It's not my fault! Blame biology!"
But my pleas fell on deaf ears. Mom swooped in like a first responder at a disaster site, her cleaning instincts kicking into overdrive. Dad followed close behind, armed with a fresh diaper and what looked like baby-sized wet wipes.
The cleanup operation was swift and efficient. I didn't know whether to be impressed or concerned by how quickly they worked. Within minutes, I was back to being a squeaky-clean baby, and they were back to their spotless routine.
As I lay there, staring at the glowing system screen that only I could see, one thought kept running through my mind.
This is my life now.
Bring it on, new world. Just... maybe give me a break from these clean freaks. And diapers. Definitely diapers.