Poppy Playtime Experiments Novels & Stories

No DNA test needed when you are staring at a miniature replica of yourself, wearing her mother’s green eyes. I winced and lifted the phone a little higher, as if I were giving Adrian an unflattering double-chin close-up. In reality, I was wedging Poppy against my neck so only the top of her head showed in the frame. “Come on, Mommy,” Poppy protested, bouncing in place. “I want to be fully visible. Daddy has to see me.” She bumped her head into my chin. “This is visual discrimination.” “This is bad signal,” I shot back. “If you keep jumping like that, the call might drop. Daddy could get stuck on the internet and turn into a meme.”

One of the pieces of advice Poppy gave me was to play some music or a podcast through your headphones while feeding, because it can be a long and boring process. But as of now I can't imagine ever feeling bored when she's in my arms. I get to stare at her for so long, notice tiny details about her, fantasize about her life and personality, and that's more interesting for me than any podcast around.

"Go to the stairs and watch Cola run laps." "Okay!" After being stuck in bed all day, Poppy was thrilled to finally play with Cola. Nicole pushed herself hard for two full hours. By the end, she was drenched in sweat, breathing hard. The exhaustion felt good, the kind that left her completely spent but satisfied. She noticed something else. As her physical stamina improved, the time she could spend using her mind to work the land also increased. It was still slow, like a snail's pace, but it was getting better. The future looked promising.