People have different communication styles; I welcome the conversations.
Using that as a segue, I'll bring up a conversation I just had, with my spouse, regarding the municipality that we sort of reside in - they annexed most of the small towns around them, all the better to deliver cookie-cutter services to households with vastly different needs. For example, some of the people around me have horses, cows, sheep, goats, chickens, and llamas. They own tractors. They have woodlots. If they bagged their leaves, collecting them would require dump trucks, probably tandem in some cases.
The municipality is proposing the blanket application of waste removal restrictions that would be potentially irritating in a subdivision, but that are laughable out here. These people have burn pits and excavators and hogs. You aren't getting $4 out of them, to cart away an extra bag of trash, beyond the minimum allotment.
My wife, in reading the fine print on the new policy, noted an exception can be made for households requiring the use of diapers; they will issue 26 "health" tags, to be affixed to bags with nappies in them (collection being biweekly). I have no idea if they intend to inspect the contents, and I pity the individual that as been assigned to verification duties, if they intend to.
So, guess what she did? She requested the tags, and, once they actually implement restricting our solid waste output, her thought was that I would use them. However, this bag has to be separate from the other bags, can't be in a can, and the tag has to be clearly visible, according to our democratically-elected overlords. There was already a three-bag limit in place, however they gave us grace by way of accepting "three containers", instead, and thereby, I could dispose of approximately nine bags, if I were so inclined, although other than when we have had an unusually high number of people staying at the house, typically we only require two cans at the curb, or approximately four bags. My diapers tend to be distributed into some or all of the bags - I empty my diaper can whenever the kitchen bag needs changed, into the kitchen bags, which are oversized for the kitchen receptacle, and hence, always have head room in them. So, every three or four days, my diaper can resets to zero. But, proportionally, I would estimate that one of the four bags consists of, A), 80% adult nappies, and, B), 20% dog poop, which strangely does not qualify as "organic waste", even though our poop pickup bags are compostable.
None of this has come to fruition yet, but, at some point, she is expecting that I will be plunking a giant, bulging bag of diapers, with a tag on it that indicates "diapers", separately from our trash cans, at the end of our driveway, for the neighbours to marvel over, as they walk their dogs by. Our kids are almost not kids anymore, so they provide no obvious cover stories.
The next move, clearly, is to start a rumour that my wife wears diapers...
After Madison was done Camilla took her off the tiny toilet, grabbed some toilet paper and cleaned her off much to Madison's protests when Camilla cleaned her bottom.
When that was done Camilla got to one knee to face the girl and said, "Alright sweetie I think today we're going to go to the dorms and get all your stuff, now I have your adult clothes washed so you'll be wearing them when we get to the college, but let me ask you something do you think you'll be able to wear your big girl panties without making a mess like you did in the store yesterday or do you want to wear your training pants I believe your the trainees can over your big girl pants."
Camila asked surprising Madison, I mean she knew that they'd have to go to a college dorm to get her stuff but was worried that she'd have to dress like a little girl, she couldn't imagine going to college or the outside world dressed like a like she belonged in preschool.