Andy was great at sharing his room, and Bo was great at avoiding Molly (that was the new sister) when she thrashed in her crib.

I was not so great at this.

One evening, as Andy was untwisting the mangled wheels of his remote-control car, I was left on the kitchen floor. Andy preferred working on the recliner, and he forgot to bring me along. Mom came in to prepare dinner, and shoved me to the edge of the room, after nearly tripping on me a dozen times. Molly watched, sprawled on the carpet in some device built to teach her how to walk. She didn't seem to like it, judging by her frequent wailing.

Mom often had to reset Molly in the chair, worried that she could hurt herself. On a contraption comprised entirely of plush and plastic.

As dinner was served, I saw Andy rush to the table. Dad joined in from upstairs, and Mom moved Molly into her line of vision before sitting down.

Molly peddled out to the edge of the kitchen, attempting to pick me up. Mom could see her, but not me, and wasn't at all worried. If anything, she looked relieved that Molly was accepting her unsteady tries at walking. And improving vastly.

The toddler gargled at me, looking fascinated. Mom turned her head and kept careful watch.

Molly, after stumbling forward in the device, was able to reach me. Without any attempts at being gentle, she heaved me up and took a very close look at me. She squeezed the fabric bits of my arms, then scratched along the plastic of my hands and boots. My hat was found to be most intriguing, as she pulled it off and tried (unsuccessfully) to reset it.

After she grew bored of this, she pushed my hat off and let it hit the floor. The noise was stifled by her mad laughing and jaunty steps over it. Mom's head swiveled over, inspected the scene, and returned to dinner. The family was chatting about the next time Andy could visit Grandpa and Grandma's house. Would he be a good big brother and take care of Molly during the car ride?

I only heard part of this dispute, mainly Andy defending his reasons. Molly had found the edge of a cabinet door, which she gripped for balance. While doing so, she'd yanked it ajar. I was dropped inside, clinking down to settle on a frying pan. She laughed once more, even louder than before. Mom stood and came to meet her.

I did not see anything except darkness, and after the dinnertime chat had subsided, I could only hear Andy, a decent distance away, continuing to work on the car.

I sensed the kitchen lights shut off. I heard Andy protest about his bed time, and Molly giggle as he did so. Wait, did he really forget about me?

He forgot about me…

What was I supposed to do? Could I shout something, or would that end worse? I considered rustling as much as I could manage among the pots, hoping that would make some noise. Or shoving the door open. Falling on the floor might be better than having more dishes stacked on me until Andy eventually noticed I was missing.

Andy's voice rang again, from further away. Likely, halfway up the stairs.

"Mom, did you see Woody downstairs with me?"

"Yes, Andy. You left him in the middle of the kitchen… that isn't a safe place for him."

"I'm sorry. Can I go get him?"

"Very quickly. Molly needs to go to bed on time tonight, big brother."

I heard his feet padding over the carpet, then slipping across the kitchen tile.

"Woody? Where are you, buddy?"

He must've seen my hat; I heard him sigh and scratch his head, a favorite nervous habit of his.

"Mom!" Andy said, too loudly. Then, assuming she'd glared at him, he added, much softer, "His hat's on the floor. But I don't see him."

Mom paced back down the stairs.

"Look harder, sweetie. I know he was there."

"Did Molly touch him?" Andy sounded afraid of the possibility, "She could've broken him or…"

"I watched her while we ate dinner. You know that."

I tried to climb up the pan-handle. And promptly slipped back down. But the skidding noise sparked Andy's confusion.

"Did you hear that, Mom?"

"Yes. Sometimes when I put the pots and pans in the cabinet, they slide over each other if they aren't just right."

The cabinet was peeled open. The pan fell and Andy stumbled backward.

"That happens, Andy." Mom told him, tone reassuring. My eyes met Molly's, glazy and wide as she watched me fall from the cabinet, too.

"Mom! Woody was in here, see! See him?"

"Maybe Molly did move him." Admitted Mom, holding her daughter tight, "I'll have to watch her better next time, I guess."

Andy looked me over and checked the state of all my pieces.

"Reach for the sky!"

Yep, that still worked. My hat was promptly returned to my head.

"Does Woody forgive me?" Mom asked, leaning forward and trying to return Andy to reality.

My head was nodded for me. Exhaling in relief, we went together up the stairs. Molly was tucked away in the crib. Andy crept between his neatly spread blankets, making sure I was constantly next to him.

"I'm sorry, Woody. I'll be really careful and I won't ever lose you again, okay?"

I wished this could be true. But it eventually proved otherwise.