2011

The Dotty Diaper cloth nappies are good. They dry quite quickly as well - I think they're mainly artificial fibre. I'd add boosters, but then I always add boosters to every nappy.

I hope we see good things from the latest version of Bambino!

Thanks to @Crimson_Wolf for closing out the meter with a $55 donation!

Tiny bit meta there with the story ideas 😆 it almost sounds like Gabby and Tess, but not exactly.

14. My Secrets “I’m getting a promotion,” I said again, fighting against my nerves. “Or… technically I got it. I was leaving it to the last minute telling you Friday. I spent most of the weekend packing up all the paperwork from my desk. Working out what needs to go to whoever’s handling my clients now, and what comes with me to my new office. I still want to spend time with you; you’re still my best friend, and my little girl if I can learn how to do that. I just… won’t be in the same building during the workday anymore. They’re moving me over to Keppler. So if you want to still see me, we’ll have to do it outside work hours. And I feel terrible now, when I’ve seen the attitudes of some of the people who’ll be in charge. I don’t want to leave you somewhere those jerks could have power over you. Is that weird? It’s like once I’ve seen you like that, every instinct says I should be protecting you from bullies.” “Don’t worry,” Carter said with a smile. “I’ve got my ways of coping. Actually, that’s what I spent most of Friday doing. It’s something I heard about from a kind-of friend who wanted to be an author. If someone upsets you, you can write them into a story and do terrible things to them. It’s cathartic, it makes it easier for me to deal with stuff, and the people you’re thinking about never need to know.” “That’s pretty smart,” I said, and I really meant it. It was an idea I’d never come across before, and I could see how it might work. “So… You wrote a story about… It wasn’t me, was it? You can tell me, I know I was… not there to check on you when you woke up Friday. I feel like I should have been there to make sure you felt safe. So I could know if I was doing the right thing the night before.” “Not you,” she said with a smile. “But there’s a guy in the story… I mean, I mostly wrote a bunch of snippets, to deal with different feelings. And there’s a guy there who might have some things in common with you. And I’ll admit I started writing about two women trying to push their own lifestyle and expectations on everyone around them. I intended to write a hero and a villain, you know? So I could put Miss Noel’s attitude and the way she speaks on the villain, and have her face the consequences of her actions. But the more I wrote it, the more I had them both doing the same thing. It didn’t come out how I expected, but I think it was like some kind of therapy, making me feel better about those attitudes. Maybe one of them was me all along; the inner bitch that I want to leave behind.” “So it’s like a redemption arc?” I asked. “Two characters who think they have all the answers. Something happens and one treats it like a wakeup call, and grows as a person, while the villain doubles down and chooses to keep on making selfish mistakes, and gets punished.” “I… uhh…” she mumbled. “Sorry,” I said again. “I’ve just read so many stories, it’s a big way for me to relax now. And that’s how I imagine it might play out if it was a story. The ones that aren’t just the author’s wish fulfilment, anyway.” “Yeah,” she chuckled briefly. “As you said it, I could just imagine it in my head. I kind of want to know how the story ends now.” “It can end however you want.” “Yeah but… I actually want to read that story. The one you described, I mean. See how my characters would take it. And it’s not written anywhere, so any version of an ending I can think of is just one ‘could have been’ among many.” “I could try writing it?” I suggested. “I’m not that good at writing, though. Or you could try. Pick one ending and decide that’s the real one.” “I’ve not got what it takes,” she shrugged. “Besides, to work like that I’d need to have like… character development, and goals. And something that’s going to be her wakeup call. If I’m writing a story for other people, it needs to make some kind of sense.” “I was going to say just write it for yourself,” I said. “But I have to admit, I want to see it too. I mean…” I hesitated, juggling the thoughts in my head until I could work out what I had actually meant on a subconscious level: “You said there are no wholesome stories that show the things you want me to understand. I was going to say maybe you could write one, if that’s easier than telling me. But this thing you described, about the girl you want to get away from as you grow up, I kind of want to see that one as well. I know you’ve got a talent for finding the right words in reports, so that might carry over to prose. But now I think about it, I’m not sure which one I actually want to see more.” “I could do both,” she said, and tilted her head to one side. She was clearly thinking about something, and a second later she added: “Actually, yeah. Like, I was joking when I said that, but it sounds like something that might actually work. Like we have these two characters so full of themselves, and they get some kind of… I don’t know, a dumb wish from a genie or something, that turns them into babies at the most awkward times.” “Sounds like something that would happen in an eighties sitcom,” I said, imagining some of the reruns I’d seen when I was much younger. “I’m not old enough to remember that,” she said with a smirk, as if we weren’t almost the same age. But that was just a brief moment of humour before she continued: “Yeah, I can see something like that working. So the girl who’s more like me finds a loving daddy to take care of her, and learns to accept needing help. Comes to understand that the real world isn’t so cut and dried, and like being able to lead her own life when things are going well doesn’t mean she has all the right answers. While Chloe just keeps on taking out her frustration on everyone else, and keeps on making her problems bigger until she can’t cope anymore.” “I think you’re thinking about these things a lot more than I ever would,” I said. “And now I’m even more interested to see the story. If you can find time to write it, I mean. Especially if you can find some way to let me know which chapters include things that you would like to experience yourself. I guess that’s your idea, right? I mean, being able to play like a kid when you want to is very different from turning into a baby, but the things that a good Daddy would do to help are pretty similar, aren’t they?” “Umm… yeah…” she muttered, and a lot of that confidence seemed to fade away. “I’ll write the story if I can get the details figured out. But I think there’s still more things I need to tell you, and I don’t know if you’ll be able to understand. It’s not always as simple as playing a role, you know? But maybe that’s all I need. I don’t know. There’s a part of me that just wants to tell you my name and let you figure it out, but I’m still so scared of… I don’t know what it is really, but it’s so easy to think of all the things that could possibly go wrong, no matter how unlikely.” “I’ll protect you from the bad things,” I said. “But I might need a little help understanding. Maybe this story will help with that, if it shows a good daddy doing his part.” I didn’t have a clue what she meant by her name; I knew her first name even if we both tended to use surnames only for some joke. But I knew that it seemed to matter to her; and that she would tell me when she was sure she wanted me to know. “Thank you,” she said. “And I can’t get that idea out of my head now, so you know I’ll end up writing it. I’ve never done anything like this before, so I don’t know how good it will be. But I’ve got to try to get it out there, right?” “Good for you,” I said. “I’m so proud of you. Just like I would be if I was your real dad. I mean, maybe this comes more naturally than I would have thought.” “Hope so. But we really should get back to the picnic. It’s weird, thinking that I’m not going to see you every day in work now, but I’ll still see you in the evenings, I hope. Let me know when you’re free, okay?” “I promise,” I said. “I guess I should give you my number, as well, so you’re not looking for me in the office when I’m home or whatever.” “Number?” she answered, and I knew there could have been better things to say. “You’re like… twenty-two or something, not fifty. Just add me on FriendSpace or something. Heck, I’ll send you a friend request on FictionLibrary. I mean, I can already find your profile from the reading list, can’t I? Send me a message on there, and I’ll be wherever you want me to be.” “Oh, yeah,” I answered, and shook my head. I couldn’t believe I was so awkward; at university we’d been so much more likely to use social media than an actual phone number, but somehow my mind had slipped into the previous-generation jargon that people in movies still seemed to use, just as soon as I’d imagined talking to a girl I liked. I tried not to think about it too much as we returned to the picnic. A few people made jokes about what we could have been up to; although to me, most of their insinuations sounded like they should take a lot longer than ten minutes. Then I found that talking about the food made it surprisingly easy to start random conversations with just about everybody. And it was surprising how many people wanted to hear about MealKit once I’d told them that these cutlets were originally based on a recipe that didn’t require any shopping trips or real expertise. By the time everything had been eaten, all my worries about today had mostly faded away; it was like I had a whole bunch of friends now. I should have tried cooking for everyone sooner. Of course, getting to know people only made it harder when I came to say that I would be moving to a different office by the end of the day; but I could just accept that. I could come back and say hi anytime I wanted, and I made sure to remind people of that; and I offered to support the people who were going to end up with my old clients as well. At the very least, I would be seen as a team player. And as far as my expectations for the day had gone, that was a big win.