The cold wind of winter break touched my face as I stepped out of the car, eager to spend time with my family. I hadn't been home in a while, and I was excited to see my 10-year-old brother, Sammy.

Sammy greeted me with a wide grin, holding something behind his back. "I've got something to show you, big brother," he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

He revealed a small, shiny rock. He claimed it was a magic wishing rock that granted one wish per person. I laughed off his childish fantasy, playing along for his sake.

"Alright, Sammy," I humored him. "I wish for a hot cup of cocoa right now." Sammy grinned, and in an instant, a hot cocoa appeared in my hands.

I was taken aback, but assumed our parents were behind this. I noticed Sammy's serious expression. "Now, I've got a wish too," he declared, holding the rock tightly.

"I wish my big brother was a 2-year-old," Sammy said. Before I could react, everything around me grew larger. I looked down to find myself in a toddler's body, lisping and stumbling.

I tried to protest, but all that came out was toddler babble. Sammy laughed. "Now you'll have to stay longer!" he declared, scooping me up in his arms.

The days went by and I found myself stuck in this bizarre reality. Sammy made me his playmate and even made me do his chores, under the threat of further age regression.