Mirabel's "Gift"

Her gift ceremony was supposed to be the greatest day of her life.

Mirabel had just turned five years old. Everyone in town was there.

She walked up to the glowing door, featureless and engulfed in golden sparkles with a doorknob, waiting for her to touch it.

Her had met the knob and markings drew themselves onto the surface. Her name-- Mirabel -- was printed on the top, with a depiction of Mirabel on the front.

The young, real Mirabel saw her depiction and found it rather curious. It didn't say anything about what her gift was. She didn't feel any different either.

Well, she felt warm. And wet.

She looked down and realized that she had wet herself, making a small puddle on Casita's tile-floors. She didn't even feel like she had to potty. It just happened.

Upset, she looked back and saw her family and the rest of the villagers. They looked confused too.

Alma stepped forward.

"I thank you all for... uh." Alma's mind wandered, as though there was a giant gap in her train of thought. "It is always a treasure to have the Encanto over and uh..."

As her abuela struggled to delegate the crowd for the first time in decades, Julieta ignored her own foggy mind and bent down to Mirabel.

"Mami, what's going on?"

"Don't worry baby," said Julieta, who only smiled down at her, bouncing the five-year old in her arms. "We'll get you in some nice clean clothes in a moment. I know you can't help it."

And she gave her daughter a kiss on the face.

Julieta opened the door to Mirabel's new door and walked inside.

Ten years later...

Mirabel rubbed her eyes, her glasses on the bedside as Julieta raised her up by her legs and wiped her butt. She had wet a few times overnight and she was one more wetting away from leaking.

Like all other rooms in Casita, Mirabel's was much larger on the inside than what was possible. While it lacked any windows, it had plenty of light in the form of nightlights, candle-lamps and even glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, all powered by the house's magic. There was a mountain of stuffed animals, paper and crayons, a shelf of fairy tale books that was read to her every other night, a rocking chair in the corner, a barred crib the size of a queen-sized mattress and a table with shelves under it where they kept the baby oil and unused diapers.

Mirabel had lost what little potty training she had the moment she had touched that damn door. She had to wear diapers 24/7 because she was incapable of holding it in. Years of wearing that had made her unable to even notice when she had wet or messed herself.

The family didn't seem to mind. In fact, none of them thought it was weird that they had a fifteen year old girl in diapers or spoon-fed her in a high chair. Nor did they think that the house having two separate nurseries, one having all the characteristics of a magical Madrigal room, was suspicious.

It was as though the magic warped everyone's minds so that they couldn't connect the dots. To her, she was just their cute baby girl.

She could speak in complete sentences, yet all they heard was baby nonsense.

If this really was her gift, it didn't feel like a blessing.

It was a curse.