Sissy Room

NGL I find it humorous that the 20-year-old willingly nursing from her mother's (miraculously productive at her age) breast was fine, but her being too short (even though there are a ton of medical reasons why this happens) is a bridge too far.  

Auntie Mame (1958) with Rosalind Russell 

Leftovers from yesterday 

Chapter 15: By the time the skyline of Memphis finally appeared ahead of them, the afternoon sun had begun softening into warm golden light. The city looked different from both Washington D.C. and Nashville in its own distinct way — older somehow, full of brick buildings, faded signs, blues music drifting from open doors, and streets carrying layers of history beneath the noise.   Chris sat up slightly straighter in his car seat as they drove deeper into downtown.   “This place feels different,” he said quietly around his pacifier.   Bill smiled softly from behind the wheel.   “It kinda does.”   The drive today had been easier on both of them. Chris still seemed a little worn down from being sick, but the rest and slower pace clearly helped. His cheeks had lost most of their feverish flush, and he’d even started asking questions again — always Bill’s favorite sign that he was feeling better.   Eventually Bill pulled into the hotel parking garage and shut the engine off with a tired exhale.   “We made it.”   Chris hugged Patches tighter.   “Do we get barbecue later?”   Bill laughed immediately.   “You are unbelievably committed to barbecue.”   Chris nodded very seriously.   “Yes.”   The hotel itself had a warm southern feel to it — polished wood floors, old music posters decorating the lobby walls, soft jazz humming through hidden speakers. Bill checked them in while Chris stood quietly beside him clutching Patches and looking around curiously at everything.   After getting their room keys, they rode the elevator upstairs together.   The room was cozy and spacious enough for the two of them — a large bed, a small couch near the window, warm lighting, and heavy curtains overlooking the Memphis streets below.   Bill immediately started unpacking the essentials while Chris wandered slowly around the room.   “You okay?” Bill asked gently.   Chris nodded.   “Little sleepy.”   “We’ll take things easy today.”   Bill picked up the hotel phone and requested a portable crib for the room. Even though Chris technically fit fine on the bed beside him, Bill knew the familiar setup helped him settle better while traveling.   Especially after last night.   A short while later someone from the hotel brought it upstairs, and together Bill and Chris worked on setting it up beside the bed.   Chris held onto one side proudly while Bill snapped pieces into place.   “I’m helping.”   “You absolutely are.”   Eventually the crib stood finished beside the bed with Chris’s favorite blanket already folded neatly inside.   “There we go,” Bill said with satisfaction.   Chris looked pleased.   For a few quiet minutes they simply relaxed. Bill unpacked some fresh diapers and extra clothes into drawers while Chris sat cross-legged on the bed hugging Patches and watching traffic move below through the windows.   Then Bill glanced over.   “So…” he said casually. “You ready to explore Memphis a little?”   Chris looked up immediately.   “Really?”   Bill smiled.   “We’re not driving all this way just to stare at hotel walls.”   That earned a sleepy little grin.   Soon afterward they headed back downstairs and out into the city streets, the diaper bag slung over Bill’s shoulder while Chris walked beside him holding tightly onto Patches.   The air outside felt warm and lively.   Music floated through the streets from nearby bars and restaurants — blues guitars, distant drums, laughter spilling out onto sidewalks. Neon signs flickered even before sunset while tourists and locals wandered between shops and restaurants.   Chris stayed close beside Bill at first, a little overwhelmed by all the noise and movement, but gradually curiosity started winning out.   “What’s that smell?”   “Barbecue,” Bill answered immediately.   Chris looked delighted.   “Tennessee smells good.”   Bill laughed softly.   As they wandered through the streets, Bill pointed things out along the way — old music venues, murals painted across brick walls, street performers playing guitar near intersections.   At one point Chris spotted a man playing saxophone outside a small café and stopped completely.   The music echoed warmly through the street while people slowed nearby to listen.   Chris stared quietly.   Bill noticed the expression immediately.   “You like it?”   Chris nodded softly.   “It sounds happy.”   Bill’s chest tightened unexpectedly at that simple observation.   After nearly an hour of walking, both of them had relaxed fully into the rhythm of the city. Chris’s energy had improved noticeably too — not bouncing off the walls, but no longer sick and miserable either.   Eventually they came across a small shop tucked between two restaurants, its front windows glowing warmly beneath a painted wooden sign.   Inside the display window sat shelves packed with postcards, old records, stuffed animals, handmade crafts, candy, and little Memphis souvenirs.   Chris slowed immediately.   “Oh…”   Bill smiled knowingly.   “You wanna look around?”   Chris nodded.   They stepped inside together, a small bell chiming softly overhead as the door closed behind them.   The shop smelled faintly like old wood, candy, and leather while blues music played quietly through hidden speakers. Warm yellow lights illuminated rows of shelves packed tightly with treasures.   Chris looked around wide-eyed while clutching Patches tighter beneath one arm.   Everything still felt new.   Every city. Every stop. Every moment.   And as Bill watched him quietly exploring the little shop, he realized something again that he kept learning over and over throughout this trip:   Chris didn’t need giant attractions to be happy.   Sometimes all it took was feeling safe enough to enjoy the world around him.   The little souvenir shop eventually gave way to more wandering through the warm Memphis evening. Streetlights had started glowing overhead now while neon signs buzzed softly against the darkening sky. Music drifted through nearly every block — blues guitars, old rock songs, distant laughter spilling from restaurants and bars.   Chris walked close beside Bill with Patches tucked securely beneath one arm and the pacifier clip bouncing lightly against his shirt as they moved.   Despite still recovering from being sick the night before, he looked happier now.   More awake. More curious.   And Bill noticed every bit of it.   They eventually wandered into another shop tucked along the street corner, this one very different from the last. The inside felt darker and older, shelves packed tightly with stacks of vinyl records, vintage music posters, old radios, and faded concert memorabilia.   The faint crackle of an old Elvis Presley song played softly overhead.   Chris immediately drifted toward a large bin of records near the back wall, carefully flipping through oversized album covers with fascination.   “These are huge,” he whispered.   Bill smiled softly.   “That’s how people used to listen to music.”   Chris held one up curiously.   “Like giant CDs?”   Bill laughed quietly.   “Something like that.”   While Chris explored the music section, Bill wandered more slowly through the shop. Old photographs lined the walls beside antique signs and dusty collectibles from decades past.   Then something caught his eye.   A small stuffed hound dog sat tucked onto a shelf near the register — soft brown ears, floppy paws, and a little blue bandana tied around its neck embroidered with Memphis in tiny stitching.   Bill stopped immediately.   It looked almost like a cousin to Patches.   His expression softened.   Without really thinking too hard about it, he picked it up.   Chris had already formed little attachments to the places they visited — postcards, rocks from Shenandoah, museum tickets carefully tucked into his backpack. Bill liked the idea of him having something small from Memphis too.   Something tied to this memory.   He purchased it quietly while Chris remained distracted by the records.   “Would you like a bag?” the cashier asked.   Bill glanced toward Chris and smiled slightly.   “No thanks.”   Instead he carefully tucked the little stuffed dog into the side pocket of the diaper bag where Chris wouldn’t immediately notice it.   A surprise for later.   And honestly?   Bill was already looking forward to Chris seeing it.   Eventually Chris wandered back over holding up a record cover with exaggerated seriousness.   “This guy has funny hair.”   Bill looked down and burst out laughing.   “That’s Elvis.”   Chris blinked.   “The Elvis?”   “The one and only.”   Chris nodded like this was deeply important historical information.   They stepped back outside shortly afterward into the warm evening air again, and almost immediately Chris slowed beside him.   “Hunger emergency,” Chris announced dramatically.   Bill snorted.   “Sounds serious.”   “It is.”   Truthfully Bill was starving too.   The smell of smoky barbecue drifting through nearby streets made the decision easy. Before long they found themselves seated inside a cozy Memphis barbecue restaurant filled with wooden booths, blues music, and the rich smell of smoked meat and spices hanging heavily in the air.   “This smells AMAZING,” Chris whispered.   Bill grinned.   “Told you Memphis barbecue was serious business.”   They ordered slowly — pulled pork, baked beans, coleslaw, cornbread, macaroni salad for Chris of course, and sweet tea that Chris immediately declared “too sweet but good.”   When the food arrived, Chris stared down at the tray in awe.   “That’s a lot of barbecue.”   Bill laughed.   “You say that now.”   Within minutes both of them were completely absorbed in dinner.   And predictably?   Chris made another mess.   Sauce somehow ended up on:   his fingers, his cheek, the front of his shirt, and once again dangerously close to Patches.   Bill shook his head affectionately while wiping his face with a napkin.   “One day I’m gonna figure out how you do this.”   Chris grinned around a mouthful of cornbread.   “I’m talented.”   Bill couldn’t argue with that.   For a while they simply ate and enjoyed the comfortable noise around them. The restaurant buzzed with conversations and laughter while old blues songs played softly overhead.   Eventually Chris leaned back against the booth and looked at Bill quietly.   “This trip’s really fun.”   Bill’s chest tightened gently at the words.   “Yeah?”   Chris nodded.   “My favorite was the waterfall.”   Bill smiled softly.   “That was a pretty good one.”   “And the dinosaurs.” “And camping.” “And the puppy at the gas station.” “And the pancakes.”   Bill laughed quietly.   “Very important memories.”   Chris smiled sleepily.   Then after a moment he added more quietly:   “I like being with you all the time.”   The words hit Bill squarely in the chest.   He looked across the table at Chris — tired eyes, messy barbecue sauce on his cheek, Patches tucked beside him in the booth — and suddenly felt overwhelmed by how much this trip already meant to him too.   Because somewhere between the long drives, campfires, museums, diaper changes, roadside diners, and sleepy hotel cuddles…   They’d started reconnecting in ways Bill didn’t even realize they needed.   Bill reached over and gently squeezed Chris’s hand.   “I like it too, buddy.”   Outside the restaurant windows, Memphis glowed warmly beneath the evening lights while music drifted through the streets beyond.   And tucked quietly into the side pocket of the diaper bag beside Bill’s chair…   A small stuffed hound dog waited patiently for the right moment to become part of the adventure too.     Chapter 16: By the time Bill and Chris made it back to the hotel, the excitement of the evening had finally started catching up with both of them.   The hallways were quieter now, the sounds of Memphis reduced to a distant hum outside the windows while soft lighting illuminated the carpeted corridor leading toward their room.   Chris walked sleepily beside Bill clutching Patches beneath one arm, his other hand loosely wrapped around Bill’s fingers.   Dinner had clearly worn him out.   And honestly?   Bill wasn’t far behind.   The moment the hotel room door shut behind them, Chris immediately climbed onto the bed with a tired sigh while Bill set the diaper bag and souvenirs down nearby.   Bill glanced over just in time to catch the unmistakable crinkle when Chris shifted positions.   That earned a knowing smile.   “Well,” Bill said softly. “I think somebody’s definitely due for a pit stop.”   Chris groaned dramatically and flopped backward across the blankets.   “Nooo.”   Bill laughed quietly while kneeling beside him.   “Buddy, I think your diaper weighs ten pounds.”   Chris looked mildly offended.   “It does not.”   Bill gave the front of it an exaggerated little pat.   “It absolutely does.”   Chris giggled despite himself.   Sure enough, the diaper was completely soaked from the long evening out walking around the city. Bill shook his head affectionately while gathering fresh supplies.   “You know what?” he said thoughtfully. “I think tonight calls for a bubble bath.”   Chris perked up instantly.   “With bubbles?”   “With lots of bubbles.”   “And toys?”   Bill grinned.   “I think we can arrange that too.”   A few minutes later the bathroom had transformed into a cozy little oasis of steam and warm water. Bill filled the tub high with hot water and plenty of soap until mountains of bubbles covered nearly the entire surface.   Chris stood nearby already smiling.   “That’s SO MANY bubbles.”   “That’s kinda the point.”   Soon Chris was happily settled into the bath surrounded by floating bath toys while warm steam filled the room around them. The bubbles piled halfway up his chest while he pushed little toy boats through the water and occasionally buried Patches safely outside the tub from “dangerous pirate attacks.”   Bill sat nearby on the closed toilet lid watching him quietly.   And honestly?   Seeing Chris relaxed and happy after the rough night before filled him with relief.   The fever scare had shaken him more than he admitted aloud.   But now Chris looked comfortable again. Safe again.   More like himself.   “You feeling better?” Bill asked softly.   Chris nodded while splashing gently.   “Tummy’s okay now.”   “Good.”   Chris tilted his head thoughtfully.   “I liked Memphis.”   Bill smiled.   “Me too.”   For a while they simply enjoyed the calmness of the evening — soft splashing water, cartoons playing faintly from the other room, warm steam drifting through the bathroom.   Eventually Bill helped Chris out of the bath, wrapping him immediately in a soft fluffy towel while Chris laughed and squirmed.   “Cold!”   “I know, I know.”   After a quick fresh diaper and cozy pajamas, Chris climbed onto the big hotel bed while Bill cleaned up the bathroom and packed away the bath toys again.   Then Bill paused.   Right.   The surprise.   He walked over to the diaper bag casually and reached into the side pocket where he’d hidden the small plush hound dog earlier that evening.   “Hey, buddy?”   Chris looked up curiously.   “What?”   Bill held the little stuffed dog out toward him.   “I think somebody wanted to come home with us.”   Chris blinked in surprise.   The floppy-eared little hound dog sat nestled in Bill’s hands with its tiny blue Memphis bandana tied neatly around its neck.   For a moment Chris just stared.   Then his entire face lit up.   “Oh my gosh…”   Bill smiled softly.   “His name’s Elvis.”   Chris immediately reached for the plushie carefully, holding it against his chest beside Patches.   “He’s PERFECT.”   The joy in his voice hit Bill right in the heart.   Chris inspected every little detail — floppy ears, soft paws, tiny stitched nose — before suddenly throwing his arms around Bill without warning.   “Thank you thank you thank you.”   Bill laughed softly as Chris hugged him tightly and pressed a quick affectionate kiss against his cheek.   “You really like him, huh?”   Chris nodded enthusiastically while cuddling the plushie close.   “Patches needed a friend.”   Bill smiled warmly.   “Well then I’m glad Elvis could help.”   Chris sat cross-legged on the bed afterward introducing the two stuffed animals to each other very seriously while Bill watched with quiet affection.   And as Memphis glowed softly outside the hotel windows and cartoons flickered gently across the room…   Bill found himself thinking again how these small moments somehow kept becoming his favorite parts of the trip.

Oh yes, I have a feeling that Sam’s mommy was taken out by the Little that Greg has been talking to online. I have a feeling that the Little discovered he was talking to Greg and is going to use this as a way to entrap Greg into doing whatever he wants. Like emotional manipulation and/or emotional blackmail.