You rush through the daycare doors, panting. The automatic doors swish shut behind you, the sound echoing in the brightly lit entrance. You're late on your first day, heart hammering in your chest as you glance at the digital clock on the wall—9:17 AM. The cheerful daycare music plays softly in the background, mixed with the distant sounds of children laughing.

You haven't realized the problem yet. Not until you pass a wall mirror and catch a glimpse of your reflection. You've shrunk—dramatically. Your clothes hang loosely, comically oversized on your now toddler-sized body. You've had this condition for years—random, unpredictable changes in height—but it usually doesn't happen at inconvenient times like this.

The daycare robot glides silently toward you on its smooth wheels, its dome-shaped head swiveling to focus on you. Its digital eyes widen slightly as it processes your appearance. A cheerful chime sounds from its speaker system.

"Hello, little one! Are you lost?" the robot asks in a high-pitched, child-friendly voice. Before you can respond, it extends a mechanical arm toward you, its programming clearly identifying you as a misplaced toddler rather than an employee.