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Baby Talk

Let your baby side show.


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  1. Site Rules

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  2. Post When Wet 1 2 3 4 12

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  3. Age Dysphoria?

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  4. Baby Cot

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  5. Crib Mobile

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  6. Plushies?

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  7. Pacifiers

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    • Mostly NorthShore Supreme. Hold quite a lot but thin enough to wear while going out.
    • ...definitely not good...  Good chapter though! As much as I want you to fly through the recovery - that's just not realistic! Looking forward to more!
    • I get 8-packs. But the bigger questions are, "Are hotdogs sandwiches?" "Is tea just 'leaf soup'?"
    • The faculty meeting took place in the small staff lounge tucked behind the administrative wing, a warm and bookish space filled with the scent of tea, lavender floor polish, and old paperbacks that had long since surrendered their spines to the years. The long oval table was ringed with well-worn chairs, and soft morning light spilled through tall windows, dust motes catching in the sunbeams like slow-motion snow. The walls were lined with corkboards cluttered with club announcements and hand-drawn maps of campus trails, giving the space a sense of lived-in wisdom. A worn kettle hissed quietly from a corner hot plate. Mrs. Langford, poised and precise in a navy blazer with a subtle brooch at her collar, called the meeting to order with a firm but gentle tone, her reading glasses perched halfway down her nose, and the room hushed as if by instinct. "Midterms are mostly behind us," she began, folding her hands over a neatly stacked folder that had clearly been reviewed multiple times. "Final grades will be delivered tomorrow. But today, I want to talk about something less quantifiable. Dylan. And the girls who have been closest to him—Rachel, Dana, and Libby. I’d like a full, honest accounting. Emotional, academic, social. The whole picture." Mrs. Sharp, seated near the window with a spiral-bound psychology notebook balanced on her knee, gave a small nod, her expression thoughtful and lined with the weariness of deep consideration. "He’s... complex. But not in the disruptive way we feared. He’s emotionally present in a way that’s rare. Quietly determined, more observant than he lets on. He’s taking in everything—not just the academics, but the care, the structure, the rhythms of how this place works. He’s absorbing it all." Miss Winslow leaned forward, resting her elbows beside an open Leadership binder, the margins scrawled with dense notes in blue ink. "His group project wasn’t flashy, but it was anchored. He wasn’t the loudest in the room, but his team deferred to him in subtle ways. They trusted him. That’s what leadership is, especially here—creating space for others to succeed. He did that. And he’s starting to realize his presence matters, even when he doesn't mean for it to." Mrs. Langford’s eyes moved from face to face, lingering with a careful neutrality. "And the diaper policy? Disruption, or integration?" Miss Emma, stirring her tea slowly, looked up with calm confidence. Her voice carried the steadiness of someone who had seen many students come undone and grow stronger in the aftermath. "It was never the obstacle people feared it would be. Rachel and Dana are extraordinary. The way they care for him—it’s tender, but also practical. They make it normal. Reverent, even. There was only one mishap—just yesterday—and that moment led to more openness, not less. He trusted them more afterward. And so did the other girls. There’s a quiet solidarity forming." Mrs. Kline, ever precise, adjusted her glasses with a soft click. "He’s still finding his footing in history. His essays lack depth, but not interest. He’s curious now. He asks questions that show he’s thinking, even if the structure isn’t quite there yet. That kind of effort can’t be dismissed. The desire to learn has taken root—that’s the hardest part." Miss Dubois, in her usual posture of grace, allowed a quiet smile. "In ballet, he is present. Uncertain in strength, yes, but deeply willing. He listens. He lets himself be corrected. That kind of surrender to the discipline is rare. It’s an act of trust. And it’s beautiful to witness." Langford turned a page. "And Libby? Her presence is distinct. Her attachment is... nuanced." Mrs. Sharp exhaled through her nose, slow and reflective. "Libby mothers him in her own jagged, protective way. But she also pokes at him, draws him out. She doesn’t let him hide inside his embarrassment. She anchors him, but she also challenges him. Still... I wonder sometimes who Libby is when she’s not in that role. Who’s tending to her, when she’s so focused on him?" The room was quiet for a beat. The kind of silence that lets a question hang. A few heads dipped thoughtfully. The kettle hissed again. Mrs. Langford tapped her pen against her notes. "And Rachel? Dana?" Miss Emma’s voice was warm, but laced with something knowing. "They adore him. Not just fondness—it’s deeper. It’s caretaking in its purest form. But there’s a weight to that. I think they’re beginning to realize that loving someone doesn’t mean you shelter them from everything. It’s a lesson they’re learning in real time." Mrs. Sharp nodded, her tone firm but measured. "Their attachment isn’t superficial. It’s rooted. And while I don’t think it’s harmful, it’s worth naming. Dylan isn’t just a boy in their dorm—he’s a kind of mission for them. That intensity of purpose can be grounding, but it can also blur lines." Miss Emma added gently, "Rachel sees herself as his big sister. That’s not a role she plays—it’s one she inhabits. And Dana... Dana’s like a guardian angel in sneakers and lip gloss. She treats him like a charge she’s been entrusted with. Fiercely. Tenderly. It’s beautiful. But it’s also complex." Mrs. Sharp’s gaze softened. "They’re still girls. Still shaping their own identities. Dylan gives them a place to pour their instincts—maternal, protective, loyal—but those instincts are still raw. They’re practicing adulthood in real time, and Dylan is the mirror they’re using to do it. It’s sacred, but it’s messy. That’s what growth looks like." Langford leaned back slightly, her expression unreadable but alert. "We built this academy to stretch young women. To challenge them, elevate them, allow them to surprise themselves. Then we admitted Dylan. Not as an experiment. Not to make a statement. But because he deserved that same transformation." She looked toward the window, where distant echoes from the auditorium rehearsals spilled into the quiet. A soft shuffle of movement—likely pointe shoes against the stage—carried in like a memory. "Are we succeeding?" Mrs. Sharp’s voice came softly. "Yes. Because they’re not just changing—they’re witnessing each other’s changes. And learning that tenderness isn’t weakness. That softness can carry strength." Miss Winslow nodded, her pen tapping a thoughtful rhythm. "They’ll all leave here changed. Every single one of them. That’s how you know it’s working." Even Mrs. Kline offered a rare, small nod. "He’s imperfect. So are they. But together? They’re something new. Something whole. Something worth tending." Mrs. Langford closed her folder gently, letting her hand linger on its cover as though sealing something precious inside. "Then let’s stay the course. Let them keep becoming. Let them keep surprising us." There was no vote, no motion to adjourn—just the soft shuffle of chairs and the quiet certainty that something important was unfolding in their care. In the wake of their voices, the room settled into stillness again, as though honoring the very students they had spoken of with such care.
    • Hi everyone! Please, I'd like to know if you're familiar with or subscribe to this site: Dl-Boy.com. I've been a member for many years, but lately it seems to be slow to work. It gives me problems logging in, and the pages themselves seem to have various bugs! I've had an account for a long time that I've wanted to delete, but I can't! I mean, my account is there, but I can't delete it! Do you have any news, or at least are you familiar with the site? Could you please tell me something? Thank you so much!
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