Baby Talk

I just woke up I am wearing little for big diaper and it is full of warm mushy poopy. I stinky very much. When moving the poopy spreads around and feels so good

An evening at the Weiss house turns unexpectedly intimate as Sally and Theresa trade teasing, secrets, and quiet fears beside the pool. Beneath the laughter about stolen beers, Porsche appointments, and future Mustangs, deeper truths surface: Theresa’s lingering injuries, Sally’s haunting dreams of the crash, and the weight of becoming a big sister to a child not yet born. As rain drives the family indoors and dinner fills the house with warmth, Sally begins to realize that growing up inside a powerful family isn’t about cars, money, or titles. It’s about responsibility, faith, and the people who quietly stand beside you when the world gets complicated. Even if you’re in a t-shirt and diaper. And by morning, with Miami waking around her and the office waiting, the heiress is already learning that real leadership begins long before anyone calls you ready.   Chapter 164 – Big Sister The late afternoon sun had softened into gold by the time Sally and Theresa reached the backyard. Theresa had changed. Gone was the professional uniform of the day. Her hair fell loose across her shoulders, catching the light. The comfortable summer dress she wore looked effortless, like she had stepped back into herself the moment the office door closed behind her. Sally had done the same. Cutoff jeans. Loose t-shirt. Her black Gulfstream cap pulled low against the sun. Bare feet warm against the stone as she walked toward the pool. “Come on,” Sally said, waving Theresa over. Theresa followed her to the edge of the pool, lowering herself beside Sally. They slid their feet into the cool water, the gentle ripples spreading across the blue surface. For a moment they just sat there. Quiet. Comfortable. Theresa leaned back on her hands. “So,” she said casually. “What’s new with you?” Sally turned slowly. “What’s new with you?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. Theresa lifted one leg out of the water, inspecting it dramatically from the knee down. “No. You first.” “Is this a contest?” Sally giggled. Theresa lowered her leg again and peered over her sunglasses. “I’m the oldest. And I asked first. Spill.” Sally sighed. Theresa tilted her head. “I hear you made some friends.” Sally squinted at her. “You have spies.” “You joined a youth group,” Theresa continued calmly. Sally made a theatrical face. “Another youth group…” Theresa watched her carefully. “Introvert, are you?” Sally shrugged. “When I’m the famous girl who crashed a plane and now has a dramatic redemption arc with spiritual symbolism… yeah. A little.” Theresa’s expression softened. “When people ask me about the crash,” she said after a moment, “it’s a pretty boring story.” Sally glanced over. “I crashed. I woke up in a hospital. I don’t remember anything in between.” Theresa shrugged. “Feels like I got cheated.” Sally frowned slightly. “I broke my back,” Theresa continued, looking out over the canal beyond the yard. “I feel like I should at least have a dramatic story to go with it.” Sally turned toward her, about to answer— But footsteps interrupted them. Mia appeared carrying a small cooler. “Something to cool down with,” she announced warmly. She opened it and handed Theresa a bottle. “The beer is for Theresa,” Mia added, glancing at Sally with mock sternness. “If you want some.” Sally grabbed a Coke with exaggerated offense. “Thanks, Mia. I deserve this after all the beers I’ve stolen.” Theresa burst out laughing. Mia shook her head, amused. “Just in case, Miss Sally.” “Your day will come, kiddo,” Theresa said, cracking open the bottle. “Thanks, Mia. I’ll make sure she doesn’t steal my beer.” Mia walked off chuckling. They sat quietly again, sipping their drinks. The breeze moved softly through the palms. “Sometimes carrying this drama…” Sally murmured. “It’s not cool.” Theresa took a sip of her beer and grimaced at the cold bitterness. “I imagine the memories aren’t exactly pleasant.” She turned slightly toward Sally. “What little I remember is burned into my brain,” she said. “But there’s not much narrative there.” She studied Sally more closely. “Any bad dreams lately?” Sally looked away toward the canal. She nodded. “I thought they’d stopped.” “They had,” Sally said softly. “But last night it came back.” Theresa reached out and touched her arm. “Same dream?” Sally nodded again. “The jet going down. But… there was a twist.” Theresa frowned slightly. “What twist?” Sally’s voice lowered. “Oskar.” Theresa blinked. “Your brother?” “Yeah.” Sally exhaled slowly. “He was in the plane. Baby Oskar. Helpless. I don’t remember the dream exactly… just that he was there.” Theresa’s brow furrowed. “He’s not even born yet and you’re already worried about him.” “Maybe,” Sally admitted. “I don’t know. It just happened. And now I keep wondering why. Why him? Why that dream?” Her voice stayed calm, but tension sat underneath. “It doesn’t make sense.” Theresa took another slow sip of her beer. “Sometimes our minds go into overdrive,” she said. “Big changes coming. Big responsibilities. Your brain grabs the weakest link it can find and throws it into the story.” Sally watched the water move around their feet. “It worries me,” she admitted. “Oskar,” Theresa said gently. Sally nodded. “Yeah. Baby brother. I’ll almost be an adult by the time he grows up. That article said I’m going to be some kind of matriarch figure.” She laughed weakly. “I don’t even feel like a big sister yet.” Theresa was smiling when she lowered the beer bottle again. A calm, knowing smile. “You’re going to be okay, kiddo.” Sally looked at her sideways. “What do you mean?” Theresa nudged the water with her foot, sending small waves across the pool. “Because you’re already worrying about the right things.” She looked at Sally directly. “Bad big sisters don’t worry about babies who aren’t even born yet.” Sally let that sit for a moment. Then she smiled. -- “Now I know why your father invited me over,” Theresa said thoughtfully, picking a chip from the bowl between them. “He had it all planned. Caught me on the phone this morning and told me I was invited for dinner. Bring a change of clothes. Come as family.” The sun had dipped low enough that the backyard glowed in warm amber light. They had moved from the pool edge to the table under the back porch, the canal behind them reflecting the slow pink streaks of the evening sky. Sally leaned back in her chair, watching the light fade. “Sounds like him,” she said. “He woke me up this morning. I hadn’t answered his knock and… well…” She gave Theresa a sly smile. “I was a little disheveled.” Theresa grinned instantly. “Oops. Pampered princess. Drool on your pillow. Hair matted to your cheek.” “Tess!” Sally kicked her lightly under the table. “Stop, or I’ll describe you waking up.” Theresa raised one eyebrow. “Pretty much the same as you,” she said calmly. “Except for the princess part.” Sally opened her mouth to protest, then stopped. “Oh,” she said slowly, the teasing fading. “So you’re still…” Theresa nodded once. “Yup.” She reached for another chip. “Still in diapers. No stars for me. Not even close.” Sally’s face softened immediately. “My equine nerve holds up during the day most of the time,” Theresa continued matter-of-factly. “But at night?” She shrugged. Sally leaned forward and took Theresa’s hand across the table. “Tess… I’m sorry. That’s…” Theresa shook her head before she could finish. “The doctors say I’m lucky,” she said calmly. “My prognosis is excellent. Daytime side effects are manageable.” She glanced down briefly toward her waist and then back up with a mischievous glint. “Modern pull-ups are better than people think. Not stylish. But I compensate at night.” “Tess!” Sally burst out laughing, covering her face with both hands. Theresa shrugged. “It’s easier talking about it with you.” She popped the chip into her mouth. “Try explaining sudden bladder failure during a job interview.” Sally froze. “Oh no.” Theresa nodded. “Oh yes.” “Theresa!” Sally gasped. “Not with—” “You guessed it. Elena.” Sally stared. “First interview. First morning. Almost no warning.” She lifted her drink and took a calm sip. “But hey,” Theresa added lightly, “I’m used to it now.” Sally blinked. “You’re unbelievable.” “No,” Theresa said. “Just practical.” She tapped the table lightly. “That’s why I came back to work. It’s something I can manage discreetly. Efficiently.” Sally frowned. “You talk about it like it’s spreadsheets and schedules.” Theresa smiled. “That’s exactly what it is.” She leaned forward slightly. “I choose how I frame it. People deal with worse things every day while trying to live normal lives. This is just one of ours.” Sally sat back slowly, thinking. “I’m already getting stars,” she said quietly. Theresa raised an eyebrow. “And a Porsche.” Sally groaned. “Dad told you.” “Of course he did.” Theresa wiped her fingers with a napkin. “I had to schedule the appointment with the dealer.” Sally looked up. “Wait. What?” “Thursday afternoon,” Theresa said calmly. “It’s already in your calendar.” Sally stared at her for a moment. “You’re joking.” Theresa leaned back in her chair, completely satisfied. “Nope.” Sally threw her head back and laughed. “My life is ridiculous.” Theresa raised her beer bottle slightly. “And occasionally very well engineered.” -- Rain arrived suddenly, the way Miami storms often did. One moment the backyard had been glowing with the last threads of sunset. The next, the sky had turned heavy and the rain swept across the canal in silver sheets, drumming against the terrace roof. Sally and Theresa retreated inside, shaking droplets from their arms and laughing as they crossed into the living room. The house already smelled like dinner. Garlic. Tomatoes. Something warm and comforting that Mia had clearly been working on for a while. Adrian and Bridget emerged from the hallway just then, both changed into something softer and more relaxed after the long day. Sally spotted her mother immediately. Bridget had pulled on leggings and an oversized t-shirt, her hair loose and slightly damp as if she had just washed it. Sally stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. “Hey, junior CEO,” Bridget said warmly, squeezing her daughter tight. “Sorry I didn’t check on you earlier. A couple meetings got… complicated.” “It’s okay,” Sally said easily. “Theresa was there making sure I behaved.” She slipped one arm down and rested her hand lightly on her mother’s stomach. “How’s Oskar doing?” Bridget smiled the practiced, amused smile of someone who had already answered that question a hundred times. “Swimming. Growing.” She chuckled softly. “Stronger by the day.” Across the room, Theresa leaned against the back of a chair, watching the scene quietly. Bridget looked up and noticed her. “Theresa,” she said warmly, opening her arms. “Nice to see you. Looking better every time I see you.” They hugged briefly. “It’s nice to be back in family mode,” Theresa said. “Feels… normal.” Bridget sighed contentedly. “I’m looking forward to routine.” “Routine is boring,” Sally muttered, stealing a cherry tomato from a bowl on the counter. Mia’s hand swatted playfully at her wrist. “Miss Sally.” Sally popped the tomato in her mouth anyway. Theresa chuckled. “The day will come when you’ll appreciate routine, kiddo.” From the far corner of the room Adrian was already settling into the sofa, reaching for the television remote. “Had a good day, boss?” Theresa called toward him. Adrian leaned forward to grab the remote. “I can’t complain,” he said. “My assistant wasn’t too crabby today.” Laughter spread across the room. Sally wandered toward the sofa and folded her arms, where her father was watching a car video. “Porsches, really?” she said accusingly. “I thought the allocation was for me.” Adrian patted the space beside him. “Where do you think you got the Porsche bug in your blood?” Sally sat down beside him, curling her legs under herself. “Not from mom,” she admitted. Bridget laughed from the kitchen. “Absolutely not from me.” The house slowly filled with that easy rhythm that comes when everyone knows where they belong. Rain tapping the windows. Voices overlapping. The smell of lasagna thickening in the air. Roberto moved quietly between kitchen and dining room, setting the table with calm efficiency. Adrian offered to help. Half-heartedly. Sally immediately intervened. “Dad, please don’t help. Roberto just got this house under control again.” Roberto smiled without looking up. “Miss Sally understands.” Sally slipped into the kitchen a moment later and stole a garlic breadstick. Roberto handed her a glass of wine at the same time. “For your father.” “Thank you,” she said, already halfway through the breadstick. At the counter, Bridget and Theresa talked quietly about the day while Mia checked the oven one last time. Soon the table was ready. Mia and Roberto gathered their things, exchanging goodnights before heading out into the rainy evening, in Sally’s borrowed Fiesta. The house grew quieter again. And the Weiss family—now including Theresa—settled around the dining room table together. Lasagna. Garlic bread. Salad. Italian comfort food and the simple warmth of people who had survived enough to know how valuable evenings like this really were. -- The lasagna dishes had been cleared away, and Mia had left behind a tray of chilled lemon sorbet before she and Roberto slipped out for the evening. The cool sweetness felt like a quiet punctuation mark after the warmth of dinner. Bridget slid one of the bowls toward Theresa. “So,” she said lightly, “what do you think about Elena?” Theresa studied the sorbet with the seriousness of someone evaluating a new recruit. She poked it once with her spoon, testing the texture before answering. “Extremely cautious at first,” she said. “Hesitant, almost.” She lifted her eyes toward Bridget. “What you said about her being wary of big money shows. She’s seen how it can distort people.” Bridget nodded slowly. “But?” Theresa scooped a small bite. “But she’s beginning to see the bigger picture.” Adrian stretched his legs under the table, leaning back comfortably. “And you, Sally?” Sally had already taken a spoonful, using the moment to think before answering. “She had questions,” Sally said carefully. “A lot of them.” She glanced between her parents and Theresa. “She probed my character. Quietly, but directly. I think she was trying to figure out whether my long-term plan was retiring to Monaco at eighteen and living a life of elegant dissolution.” Bridget winced. “That’s harsh.” She shook her head. “I’m sure she approached you with more diplomacy than that.” “She did,” Theresa said calmly. “But she didn’t skim over the hard parts.” Sally nodded. “She was nice,” Sally said. “But cautious, like Theresa said. Curious too.” She turned the spoon slowly in her bowl. “She had read a lot about me. Articles. Interviews. Probably half the internet.” Adrian smirked. “Dangerous place.” “She wanted to know how much of it was true,” Sally continued. “How much of the story was… real.” “And?” Bridget asked gently. Sally shrugged. “I told her the truth.” “What truth?” Adrian asked. Sally smiled faintly. “That I don’t want to play at life.” Silence settled briefly at the table. The rain outside softened, the steady tapping fading into a quiet drizzle. “She asked about the crash,” Sally added. “About my faith.” Bridget’s expression softened immediately. “And?” Sally lifted one shoulder. “I told her Jesus found me before the crash. Not after.” Theresa watched her carefully. “How did she take that?” Sally smiled. “She told me she’s been walking with God most of her life.” Adrian nodded slowly. “That explains why she didn’t run.” “Exactly,” Sally said. Bridget leaned her elbow on the table, studying her daughter. “So,” she asked quietly, “do you trust her?” Sally thought for a moment before answering. “Yes.” A small pause. “She almost walked away from the job,” Sally added. “If she thought I wasn’t serious.” Adrian’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s a good sign.” Theresa nodded in agreement. “She’s not here for the money.” Bridget reached for her glass. “Good,” she said simply. Sally finished the last spoonful of sorbet, the citrus sweetness lingering on her tongue. “Also,” she added casually, “she read the article about me and the race car.” Adrian laughed. “Of course she did.” Theresa leaned back in her chair. “So your assistant already knows about your two great callings in life.” Sally looked up. “Which are?” Theresa raised two fingers. “Structured generosity.” Then a second finger. “And Porsche allocations.” The table erupted in laughter as the rain finally slowed outside, leaving the house warm, bright, and full of easy voices. “Well,” Adrian said, leaning back in his chair with quiet satisfaction, “be thankful the Porsche allocation is officially in my name. Otherwise you’d have Elena arranging a dealership appointment for you after that conversation.” Sally lifted her head slightly. “I am thankful,” she murmured, blinking slowly. “Theresa already said we’re visiting the dealership Thursday.” Her voice had the soft, drifting tone of someone who was beginning to lose a battle with exhaustion. Theresa noticed immediately. She took a sip of coffee, watching Sally over the rim of her cup with an amused glint. “You might as well get Elena ready to help manage your car collection,” she said lightly. “The Fiesta. The Range Rover. Now the Porsche.” She tilted her head. “What’s next?” Sally didn’t hesitate. “The Mustang.” Three sets of eyes turned toward her. “Dad promised,” Sally continued, voice sleepy but determined. “When I turn sixteen I can buy my Mustang.” Adrian’s eyebrows climbed. “You’re still interested in that car?” He shook his head slowly, amused. “I would have thought your tastes had… matured by now.” He spread his hands dramatically. “No orange Lamborghini?” Bridget burst out laughing. “Oh please. She doesn’t want a circus on wheels.” She gestured toward Sally with her spoon. “She wants a real car.” Sally gave a lazy, satisfied nod. “Manual,” she added. Adrian chuckled. “You’re surrounded by Ferraris, McLarens, Aston Martins…” “And I still want my Mustang,” Sally said firmly. Bridget leaned back in her chair. “She’s been talking about that car since she was twelve.” Theresa looked intrigued. “Why the Mustang?” Sally looked up at her, the corners of her mouth lifting. “Mustang Sally.” Theresa blinked. “The song?” Bridget pointed at her daughter triumphantly. “Exactly.” Sally hummed a few sleepy notes. “Ride, Sally, ride…” Adrian groaned theatrically. “This is what happens when you let a teenager choose her own cars.” “It’s a cultural reference,” Sally protested weakly. “It’s a midlife crisis,” Adrian replied. Theresa laughed quietly into her coffee. “I’m beginning to see the pattern.” She counted lightly on her fingers. “One practical European car.” “The Fiesta,” Sally muttered. “One luxury armored land yacht.” “The Range Rover,” Adrian added. “And now a precision German sports machine.” “The Porsche,” Bridget said. Theresa leaned back. “And then… an American muscle car.” Sally nodded with sleepy conviction. “Exactly.” Adrian studied his daughter’s drooping eyes. “You’re fading.” Sally blinked slowly. “Am not.” “You are,” Theresa said gently. The room had softened into that quiet stage after dinner when conversation slows and comfort settles in. Sally rubbed one eye. “Just tired.” Bridget reached over and brushed a loose strand of hair away from her daughter’s face. “Long day.” Sally nodded once. “First day.” Theresa stood and stretched slightly. “Well,” she said lightly, “future Mustang collector needs sleep.” Adrian lifted his coffee. “Tomorrow the junior CEO resumes operations.” Sally slid down slightly in her chair, smiling faintly. “After breakfast.” -- Sally finished in the bathroom slowly, following the small routine that had become second nature. Toilet first. She waited, hoping that maybe tomorrow morning would bring another star on the little calendar her mother kept discreetly on the inside of the closet door. But the rest of the ritual remained unchanged. After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she reached for the diaper folded neatly on the counter. She slipped into it with ceremony, fastening it securely and smoothing the soft padding with a practiced motion and making sure the leg gathers were in position. Cozy. Then she pulled her t-shirt down over it. Light. Comfortable. Perfect for warm Miami nights. Barefoot, she padded back into her bedroom. Theresa was already there. She sat cross-legged near the foot of the bed, as if she belonged there. She looked up as Sally entered and smiled.  “You look adorable,” she said. Sally groaned quietly. “All ready for bed.” “Don’t say adorable,” Sally muttered, climbing into the bed. Theresa tilted her head slightly. “I’m going to miss you being the kid of the house,” she added softly. “You’re already turning into a big sister. Losing your kid vibe.” Sally slid under the sheets and pulled them up to her waist. “Not yet,” she murmured. Her shoulders sagged as the tiredness finally caught up with her. She looked up at Theresa from the pillow. Theresa studied her for a moment, something warm and proud in her eyes. “You’re going to be an excellent big sister to Oskar,” she said. “I can already see you making sure every car you buy has the perfect baby seat installed.” Sally smiled faintly. “Thanks for coming tonight,” she said quietly. “Really.” Theresa raised an eyebrow. “Your parents invited me.” “I know,” Sally said. “But I needed some big sister time.” Her voice softened. “With you.” Theresa pressed her lips together briefly, hiding the emotion that flickered across her face. “You’re an angel,” she said after a moment. “I’d do anything for you, kiddo. Even get your coffee and cookies.” Sally giggled weakly and yawned. “Just let me sleep,” she mumbled. Theresa laughed softly. She leaned forward and gave Sally a quick, careful hug. “See you tomorrow, boss.” Sally was already halfway asleep when Theresa slipped quietly out of the room, leaving the soft bedside lamp glowing and the warm Miami night settling gently around the house. -- Sally stood in front of the mirror for a moment, evaluating herself. Blue jeans. Button-down shirt. Simple. Clean. Put together. Not the polished, almost ceremonial look of yesterday. But also not the careless look of a teenager tagging along to an adult world she didn’t belong in. This felt more like her. She grabbed her backpack and headed downstairs. The moment she stepped out the front door, she saw it. The BMW M5. Dark blue—so dark it almost looked black under the morning sun—sat gleaming by the driveway like a coiled animal waiting to move. Sally stopped. Then her shoulders relaxed. “M5 day,” she murmured. Roberto stood nearby, finishing a quick wipe of the already spotless hood. “Good morning, Miss Sally.” “Morning, Roberto.” She nodded approvingly at the car and slid into the back seat, tossing her backpack beside her. She liked the M5. It wasn’t just comfortable. It felt alive. The low hum of the engine, the tight leather interior, the sense that underneath the calm there was something very fast waiting to be unleashed. Sitting in the back almost felt like riding inside a race car—but wrapped in quiet luxury. Her father stepped into the driver’s seat a moment later. He glanced at her in the mirror with an apologetic half-smile. “Tut mir leid, Liebling.” Sally smirked. “Alles gut, Dad. Ich verstehe.” She buckled her seatbelt. A second later Bridget slipped into the passenger seat, already organizing something on her tablet. The engine purred softly as Adrian pulled the car away from the house and onto Solano Prado. Morning sunlight filtered through the trees as they headed toward Brickell. Bridget turned around slightly in her seat. “Elena’s going to be mostly tied up today,” she explained. Sally looked up from her phone. “With Olivia?” “Yes,” Bridget nodded. “They’ll be going through your trust structure, reviewing documentation, meeting part of the legal and financial team.” She adjusted her glasses slightly. “She needs to understand the architecture of everything.” Sally nodded slowly. “So Jana’s supervising me today.” “Exactly,” Bridget said. Sally lifted the small sunscreen shade beside her window and leaned her head back into the seat. The car moved smoothly through the quiet morning traffic. “All day,” Bridget added. “But tomorrow there may be a meeting you should sit in on. Just to familiarize yourself with some of the foundation projects.” Adrian glanced at Sally through the rearview mirror. His tone shifted slightly—still gentle, but deliberate. “Remember something.” Sally met his eyes in the mirror. “You are the heiress,” he said. “But that is not your job right now.” She waited. “Your job is to study. Build foundations. Learn the systems. Learn the people.” The M5 accelerated smoothly onto a wider stretch of road. “One step at a time.” Sally nodded quietly. “Got it.” Outside the window, Miami began to rise around them again. Glass towers. Morning sunlight. And another day waiting at the office. -- The week settled into a rhythm before Sally even realized it had begun. Days folded into one another. Not dramatically. Just steadily. Sally, homeschooling. Technically she sat in a luxurious corner office in a glass tower overlooking Brickell, sunlight bouncing off the bay and the slow movement of boats below. But the reality was simpler. She was still a student. There were no classmates to distract the teacher. No classroom chatter. Just Sally.  And Jana. Jana watched her progress like a project manager tracking deliverables. “Sally,” Jana would say calmly without even looking up from her tablet. “Yes?” “You’ve been staring at the same paragraph for two minutes.” Sally would sigh. Once a day Elena appeared. Usually mid-morning. They would sit at the small conference table rather than Sally’s desk. “Foundation update,” Elena would say, opening her laptop. Grant proposals. Hospital partnerships. Recovery programs. Education initiatives. Small pieces of a much larger puzzle. And then the speech. Sally’s speech for the foundation opening. It wasn’t meant to be the centerpiece of the event. But she was the heiress. And she wanted it to matter. “This paragraph feels… artificial,” Sally said one morning, pushing the document toward Elena. Elena skimmed it. “Yes,” she agreed calmly. “It sounds like a public relations department wrote it.” “They did.” “Then we remove it.” Sally smiled. Olivia appeared once that week, drifting into Sally’s office without warning. She leaned casually against the glass wall. “I’m impressed,” she said. “With me?” Sally asked. Olivia shook her head. “With Elena.” She gestured toward the hallway where Elena had disappeared minutes earlier. “She’s going to do most of the talking soon.” Sally raised an eyebrow. “And you?” Olivia smirked. “I might finally get to spend more time at my house in the Keys.” Then she left just as quickly as she had appeared.

Definitely wear a diaper at night rather than a pull-up.

I am sitting here in a wet and messy Fluffy Fly diaper this morning, soooo nice!

My Fluffy Fly diaper has something that feels warm and fluffy and squishy inside as I sit here this morning.