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Baby Talk
Let your baby side show.
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By LilGirlLya · Posted
Juniper was fixed on the playground. Miss Ashford had explained the boat house and tennis court but seemed to leave the giant metaphorical elephant in the backyard uncommitted on. "Um, excuse me," she interrupted, "sorry, but what is that doing here?" Her eyes were still fixed on the playground. "Don't you think the other YLs might find it a bit condescending that you have this little kids, fairy tale, Mother Goose thing here for them? I'm sorry, maybe I misunderstood or maybe I wasn't clear but I know some YLs like all that stuff but I am an adult. I worked very hard to be the woman I am today. I just don't know why any adult would debase themselves to playing on that." -
By cute little kokiri girl · Posted
When Emily returned to the classroom she was thankful that Miss Henderson said okay to borrowing her daughter's car seat, hell she was even suggesting giving the car seat if Emily wanted it as her own daughter was getting too big for it. Miss Henderson did ask what was it for, but Emily just said it was just for a friend of a friend. It didn't take the teacher long to figure out how to set it up in her car before returning to the classroom, When Emily saw fresh tears springing to Lily's eyes, there was only one answer that came to the head teacher's mind and immediately she gently walked over, kneeled down and scooped her friend up gently hugging the little adult woman and telling her it was all going to be okay. -
11 I wake up in the crib, just like the last some odd mornings. I stare up at the mobile and I feel a pressure in my tummy. The nighttime diaper is already soggy. I’m pretty sure I remember using it. I use it again, and the mush expands my already peelogged padding. I remember it’s an off day, and when I hear the rain I just roll over onto my stomach. They’re a little small, but Sophie’s PJ’s are pretty comfy. I suck on the hood of my rhino footie as I drift back to sleep. It doesn’t last long. I wake up maybe an hour or so later feeling grumpy but awake. I sit up. I pull the giraffe over to my chest and hug. My hood is wet against my cheek and smells musky. I waddle over to my highchair and climb in. There’s already two jars and sippy cup of formula powder waiting for me. I sit down, my mess squishing. I’ll deal with it when I’m not so hungry. I begin my meal; halfway through I get thirsty. I go for the sippy cup, but I’m left coughing from the dust. I reach towards the sink, grunting and whining, but the tray locks me in. My eyes go glassy and before I know it I’m bawling. Why is everything so difficult? Why can’t I ever win anything? It takes a few dozen sucks of my saucy fingers before I’ve calmed down enough to think clearly. I unlock the tray, hop down, and get a waft of my mess as I clumsily walk over to the sink. I fill up the cup and stare at it. Beside the sink is a series of peach bottle nipples. I grab one and replace my cap, shaking it well. I pop the bottle into my mouth, sit down, and begin sucking. A pretty average morning. 12 “Mel,” Mrs. Chen told me as I walked out. “Sophie doesn’t want these anymore.” She handed me a huge duffel bag of stuffies. She audibly sniffs the air around me. “Mel, dear, do you smell that?” I shake my head, but I do. The Pull-Up is soaked under my pink elastic shorts. I’m glad I could pull the shorts up enough to hide the cartoon elephant peaking out. “Oh, well,” I can tell Mrs. Chen doubts me. She looks down at my pants. I blush, but I try to play it off. “Get home safe,” she says, cryptic. “Try not to have any… accidents.” My heart skips a beat. She didn’t just say that, did she? I get home, my nerves a mess the whole trip back. I throw my newest haul of stuffed animals into the playpen. I don’t even mean for it to land there, but it works. My Pull-Up is about to burst, so I head over to the changing station and replace it with a Pampers. I sigh in relief. Crisis averted. I walk over to the playpen and step inside, sitting down, planning to sort out the goods. Believe it or not, I’ve still been making listings. Maybe I don’t put as much effort into them as I could, I don’t know. I handle every stuffy delicately between my spread legs. The first is a little tiger. I make him do a little jig and sing a tune. I giggle. I stick his paw in my mouth and sigh contently, gurgling something. 13 My already dark room dims further as the day wanes, and I sit in my walker, PBS Kids blaring on Sophie’s old tablet. I needed to check to make sure it works—give it a proper stress test, so I can list it with confidence. And it’s as good as a way to spend a day off as any, especially when you’re broke because your sales haven’t cleared. I sour at the thought, finger entering my mouth. A drop of drool falls on the tablet. I bounce slightly in the rubber seat, and my fresh diaper crinkles. I hold the old giraffe in my right hand. I look around the room for a moment, orange smears still on my face from breakfast. I’m wearing nothing but a decorated diaper and purple 4T shirt plastered with ponies. I feel a pressure in my tummy and push myself up slightly with my arms. I grunt, wait, and sit back down on my mess. I can smell it faintly and I pout, having just changed myself. I go back to the cartoons on the tablet and watch, salivating around my pruning finger. An hour passes, and then I hear it a knock on the door. “Melissa? Are you in?” It’s Mrs. Chen! I try to shoot up out of the walker, but my knees are stuck under the tray. Shoot! How did I even squeeze in here? And more importantly, is the door locked? I don’t know. I scoot over to the door in the walker, thankful I’m in something mobile. I lift my arm high up over my head… but I can’t reach the deadbolt. I panic, struggling again fruitlessly with this stupid baby thing! I’m not a baby! I’m better than this! And then, it’s too late. “Melissa, are you okay? I’m coming in,” Mrs. Chen says. 14 I start panicking as she turns the handle. I can feel my diaper growing even fuller in fear, and tears bubble up. I suck my thumb. Mrs. Chen opens the door, her nose wrinkling at my poopy diaper. “Melissa?” she asks, looking around, unable to find me. She has to scan the entire room, her face contorting with confusion and concern and I’m sure contempt. I whimper, my tears boiling over and streaming down my cheeks. I clutch my giraffe close. Mrs. Chen finally spots me and her eyes go wide. “Melissa! What’s going on?” she asks, kneeling down to be at walker level. She grabs my wrists with authority. “Are you okay? Speak to me? What’s going on?” But I can’t. I just bawl, locking my eyes closed. If I can’t see her disappointment, she doesn’t exist. Then her hand explores below the walker’s tray, and lands on my diaper. “Oh, Melissa, you didn’t…” she says in disbelief. “So you really have been wearing diapers this whole time….” she says to herself quietly. I continue to wail, my wet thumb not doing it’s job. “Melissa, calm down, will you?” she asks me, annoyed. I don’t reply. Can’t. She sighs. “Well, maybe we need to take care of this first,” she says to no one in particular. I can feel her hands wedge between my armpits, and I clamp down instinctively. With a grunt of effort, she pulls me out of the walker. In a quick motion, she puts a supportive hand on my soiled butt. I’m amazed that she can carry me, but maybe it’s to be expected when a few jars of baby food is my daily nutrition. I quiet in shock as my chin rests on her shoulder, eyes wide. Her hair smells like brands of perfume I can’t pronounce. She pats my back and I see my still-open front door shrink as we move to the changing table; she kicks it shut behind her. She lays me down and I hold the giraffe to my chest. I put it’s ear in my mouth. Mrs. Chen grabs an errant pacifier from the table, right beside my head. I stare up at her, lost, as she pushes it in to my mouth. Next is my diaper. She lifts me by the ankles with one hand and untapes me with the other. I can see her sour at my mess. “It’s a good thing I didn’t throw these away, I suppose,” she says, grabbing a wipe and working on my bottom. It takes her about a third of wipes I’d need to get myself clean. She balls up the disgusting, turning to the pail. She balks when she has to open it, but she doesn’t say anything as she drops the wad. My hiccups are about over as she powders me, something that I rarely do myself. I bask in how fresh it makes me feel, like a mint for my skin. Finally, the tapes come up. She pulls me into a sitting position, my feet dangling ineffectively. I stare at her, hiding my nose behind my giraffe, its still ear moist. She wears an expectant, impatient expression, eyes narrow, hands on her hips. “So, care to explain?” 15 I can’t. How can I? This is… how did it come to this again? “M-my toilet bwoke….” I choked out, my pacifier giving me a lisp. “I-I was hungwy, and—and….” She just stared at me, perplexed. She told me to slow down and start from the very beginning. She took the pacifier out of my mouth. When my thumb shot up, she blocked it, encouraging me with a buttery tone, telling me I could do it. “It” probably referred to being an adult, but with how broken I was, I wasn’t sure I could. I tried anyway. “I—I was really hungry when you gave me the,” I whispered the next word, “baby food. A-a-and, it was going to expire soon, so I started eating it. A-a-and then, my pipes weren’t working, and I had to go pee… and I used the Goodnites…” I said. “B-but, then I ran out of those….” She asked me a humiliating question. “N-no, y-yeah,” I teared up, “I did lie, I didn’t sell them,” I said, crying. “B-b-b-but, I couldn’t! I posted it all online, I s-s-swear!” I said, trying to yank the waterworks back. She didn’t believe me. “Can I get my phone?” she asked where it was, and fetched it for me. It was dead since last night, since I forgot to charge it and was on my PBS Kids binge. “S-s-sorry, I was watching… TV,” I say instead of “Clifford.” She rolls her eyes. “I forgot to charge it…. But! I-I’m serious, you can look with your phone!” I tell her what to search for. Her eyes light up as she sees the listings, and verifies the dates. “I really have been trying to sell it.” Her eyes soften for a brief moment before contorting in confusion. She asks about my furniture. “Oh,” is all I can say, as ashamed as I am. “I… don’t understand, the people online thought—they thought my furniture was the baby furniture, and they took it… It’s really not my fault….” 16 “Melissa,” she says, browsing my profile. “All you titled this was ‘chair,’” she states in disbelief. “How in the word did you expect people to even find this in the search results?” I don’t have a response. I can feel another round of tears coming. “And the picture,” she deflates, “Melissa, the highchair is barely even in the frame. You’re chair is right there!” she says. I hide behind my stuffie and suck on the ear. I don’t want Mrs. Chen to be mad at me anymore. Mrs. Chen ignores it, continuing on her tirade. “And the changing table… ‘changing unit’? Where did you even get that name? And why is it your dresser in the frame, why is the changing table off to the side?” I don’t have an answer. I just sniffle. Even Mrs. Chen thinks I’m an idiot. And she’s right. How did I not see any of that? It’s so painfully obvious. “So, you… accidentally,” she mocks, “sold your furniture, and you’ve been using Sophie’s old things….” she said. “You’ve been pooping your pants because you didn’t want to do the laundry, and eating baby food because you didn’t want to ‘waste’ money on the real stuff. So the last mystery that remains, is why are you still sucking your thumb and playing with toys?” I freeze, letting the thumb fall out of my mouth and the stuffie to my side. -
By LilGirlLya · Posted
Hannah nodded sheepishly, "uh-huh, I um, I got high and I thought it would be funny to see if I could fit in them and then they fit and they were cute so I kept them on when I feel asleep." Then it clicked for Hannah, "was it the jammies dat did dis to me?" -
By LilGirlLya · Posted
Lily got to work cleaning the space, fortunately they did attempt to have the kids clean up after themselves and they usually made a good effort but it was a good effort for five and six year olds so the results were usually inconsistent when it came to how well they did. While cleaning, Lily squatted down to pick some paper up from the floor and as she grabbed for the debris she felt the front of her diaper start to grow warm. "Oh no, oh no oh no ohnoohno" Emily panicked, she hadn't gone to the bathroom since her accident and she usually had already done so at least one more time in a normal day. It wasn't a surprise that she'd need to be, but what filled the YL with dread was how she didn't even realize she needed to go. Earlier had been an accident because she couldn't hold it. This one was an accident because she didn't realize she needed to go. She was able to stop the flow when she stood back up but she was now aware that her bladder was dangerously full. After a brief moment of hope that things might get better, this shattered it. Regression could sometimes affect YLs when under a lot of stress, Lily hoped it was just the stress from the meeting, she tried to reassure herself that she was fine. She wasn't regressing. She wasn't going to lose her job. The two accidents had been under completely different circumstances but these were two more day time accidents than she'd had in years. She had only stood up from her squat for half a minute when the classroom door opened.
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