I love her dark, brown, dreamy eyes. She smells of the generous love her young mom bestows when she rubs baby powder all over her to make her smell like a baby. I love the toothless giggles and wet lips that leave a sticky slimy track wherever she crawls. I love when we crawl together. She is bigger than me but loves me as much.

I can't stop giggling when she rubs my belly and the back of my ears with her soft little thumb. I think I love her more than she loves me.

Lately, though, there is a change. We were on our secret mission to retrieve the little red ball that hid below the bed. We both crawled in. I pushed with all my might, but the ball must be heavy. She crawled in too and we laughed out our tired bodies by lying and rolling on the carpet.

I think mum loved the carpet though. As soon as she saw us, she just threw a pillow on us―pillow fight time.
But, mum didn't like to lose, I guess. She got the spoon from the kitchen and threw it. Oops... it had a certain sting. I cried. Baby cried. Then mum got busy uncrying the baby. I wish I had a mum too. I slept.

I must have slept for a long time. When I woke up, everything had changed. May be I changed.

The baby giggles less and cries more in my company. Her cry is an alarm for mum to retrieve a spoon, stone, or whatever she has around to throw at me. If it hits, it stings. When it doesn't, the sound sends shivers in my heart. It is not a good feeling.

"Hey mum, throw soft toys. These hurt"―but she speaks a different language. Baby too, cannot understand me now. She had to sacrifice our language to learn another‒her mum's.

Now, I don't venture out much except when the baby is asleep. I don't like to make her cry. I see her, snoring her baby snores, lips moist and eyes dreaming. I hope she dreams of me too; because, in my dreams, we still play together.

I feel sick. My only friend is scared of me. I too, am afraid now.

Mum and God, both love me a little less.

Maybe, that's why God made me a mouse.