Back In The Nursery (Chapter 12 Now Up)

[Sarah Penguin]

[SissyatHeart]

Chapter 7: Dinner Out

"Emily!" Mom called, "Come on, sweetheart, we need to get going."

"Coming mommy!" I yelled over my shoulder, looking to see if mom was watching me, looking to see if she was waiting for me. She wasn't. Good. That meant I had a few more minutes to play. I turned back to my toys, back to the Barbie doll that I was playing with. She was one of the people in the village that I had built in the living room. The same village that mom and I had started days ago after she had pulled that tote of Lincoln Logs down from the attic for me to play with. Only now, my play area spanned across the living room, taking up most of the space between the coffee table and the TV, and now involved train tracks, blocks, dominos, barbie, and anything and everything else I could get my hands on to keep building. Still, I smiled, thinking back to the first few houses mom and I had built. They were still there, right by the center of the village, but they paled in comparison to the castle dad had helped me build later that night. The block walls and towers surrounding the castle had been dad's idea and they stood out amongst everything else that had been built. It had become our little project, and I was loving every minute of it.

"Emily!" Mom called again, "Let's go, sweetheart."

I looked over my shoulder, clutching the Barbie doll in my hands as mom appeared around the corner.

"What are you doing, sweetheart?" Mom asked, stepping closer to me.

"Playing," I mumbled, my gaze turning towards the ground as I shifted my attention back to playing, trying to act as innocent as possible, not wanting to leave.

Mom sighed, kneeling down beside me, playing with my hair as she spoke. "You can play later, sweetheart, but right now we need to get going or we're going to be late."

"But I don't want to go," I whined.

"If you don't want to go then I'm going to have to tell daddy that his little princess doesn't go and meet him then."

"Daddy?" I asked, perking up.

Mom laughed. "Yes, who did you think we were meeting for dinner?"

In truth, I hadn't really thought all that hard on it. I didn't even know where we were going. "Alright, I'll go," I said, "But can I play for five more minutes, please?"

"Sorry, sweetheart," Mom said, shaking her head, "Daddy's already on his way there, we need to get going."

I nodded with a huff as I set my Barbie doll down, letting my eyes linger on the toys for a second before turning to mom. "Do you think daddy will play with me later?"

"I'm sure he'd love to," Mom said, pulling me to my feet, "But right now we need to get your socks and shoes on so we can go and meet him."

I nodded again, starting towards the entryway bench when I felt mom's hand on my chest, holding me still.

"Let's check your diaper before leaving," She said, lifting up the back of my dress, slipping a few fingers past the waistband of my diaper so that she could pull it back and peer inside. "No poopies," She said, letting the diaper snap back into place before reaching between my legs, slipping two fingers past the cuff of my diaper. "And no pee-pees."

I blushed at the intrusion but said nothing as mom patted my bottom, urging me forward again.

"Now, let's go see about getting you some shoes."

********************

The drive to the restaurant didn't take long and dad was already standing outside his car waiting for us when mom pulled in next to him in the busy parking lot. I smiled at him through the window, kicking my legs happily as he approached my door, opening it.

"Daddy!"

"Hey, pumpkin," Dad said, reaching in to unbuckle me. Once I was free, he lifted me from the seat and into his arms, kissing my cheek as he patted my bottom. "Did you have a good day?"

"Ya," I giggled."

"Ya? That's good. Did you miss me, cause I missed you?" He asked, tickling my belly, making me squirm and giggle in his arms, hiding my laughter in his neck, enjoying being with him, enjoying seeing him after his being at work all day.

"Is daddy being silly?" Mom asked, walking around from the other side of the car, diaper bag in arms.

"Uh-huh," I said, nodding as dad bounced me in his arms, letting me catch my breath as he turned his attention to my hair, playing with one of my pigtails. "I love what mommy did with your hair today, pumpkin," He said, "It's so cute, and you're my adorable, little princess."

I let a few more giggles escape as I was carried towards the restaurant. I turned in dad's arms to see where we were at. Despite being treated as though I were a toddler, I could still read. It was the Gondola House, a frequent weekend venture of ours. One that was an easy stop for some good homemade pizza and a family atmosphere. It was one of our favorites, and my stomach growled in anticipation as we approached the door.

Dad chuckled, tickling my stomach once more. 'Are you hungry, pumpkin?"

I nodded as mom opened the door, letting dad carry me inside. Almost immediately, my ears and eyes and nose were wound up with the new atmosphere, concentrating on the stimulus flooding my brain. The restaurant was completely open from the lobby to the dining area to the kitchen. Like one big room. And it was crowded and noisy, people were talking and laughing and eating everywhere. And then there was the smell of pizza wafting through the air. It triggered a bunch of different emotions within me. Hunger, anxiousness, worry, excitement. It was a change of pace compared to our quiet home dinners and I wasn't sure how to handle it. I squeezed dad's suit in my hands, clinging to him tighter as he bounced me in his arms, whispering to me, holding me tight as he moved further inside.

"It's a little noisy in here, isn't it, sweetheart?" Mom asked, rubbing my back as she walked next to dad.

I nodded, looking at her as I whimpered in dad's arms.

"Would you like your pacifier?"

I nodded again as mom dug in the diaper bag, pulling out my pacifier, holding it up to my mouth, offering it to me. I let her slip the pacifier in, suckling it heavily as I tried to calm myself with the soothing nipple.

"You're alright, pumpkin, you're fine," Dad cooed, kissing my cheek, "Daddy's got you."

But even with the pacifier, even with dad's comforting words, I felt on edge. My eyes danced about the crowded waiting area like I had done at the grocery store the past week, and just like that day, nobody paid any mind to me except for a few friendly smiles and small waves. Only now, I wasn't afraid of being seen as a big girl but was rather overwhelmed with the environment, it was like my emotions couldn't handle everything that was going on around me. It was too much for my mind to take in all at once. I just needed a break from it all, needed it to be quiet and calm for a moment so I could collect myself.

"Hi, how can I help you tonight?" A woman asked. I turned to face her voice, her hazel eyes and kind smile meeting mine own worried ones. Her body seemed to soften as she stared at me, her eyes seemed to sparkle. Baby fever? I shifted my gaze from her stare, focusing on the name tag pinned to her shirt. Natalie. Her name was Natalie.

"Can we get a table for three please?" Dad asked.

"Sure thing," Natalie said, "And what's the name of your party?"

"Mark."

"Alright Mark, we've got you on the waiting list. Just to let you know, it's about a ten-minute wait and we'll call you when your tables ready."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

With that, dad turned to head back over to mom, standing with her in the corner, trying to keep out of the way of the hustle and bustle as people entered and exited.  I tried to ignore them, tried to quell the worry and anxiousness that I was feeling by relaxing in dad's arms, resting my head against his shoulder while I suckled my pacifier. His comforting hand rubbing and soothing my back as he bounced and rocked me.

"Excuse me, sir?"

It was a man, I turned my head to look over his way. He was older than dad, but not ancient, only a few gray hairs showed on his head, he appeared to still be in good health, and he was motioning for dad to take his spot on the bench.

"You should sit, you've got a little one with you."

"Oh, no, thank you, I'm fine, really," Dad tried to counter, adjusting me in his arms.

"Nonsense, please, I insist," The man said, waving dad off, "I still remember those days, and while she may be a little one, she's got to be a strain on your arms.

Dad thought for a moment before nodding, moving to take a seat. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," The man said with a wink, "Us fathers have to stick together."

Dad laughed at that, adjusting me in his lap so that I was facing him with my head laid against his chest. "You're right about that one."

And all was quiet for but a second.

"And what's this little cutie's name?" A new voice, female, sitting right beside us. I stole a glance at her before burying my face in dad's suit. She was older, older than the man dad was just talking to, like old-old. Like grandma age. Gray hair and all. Why did grandmas always feel the need to ooh and aww over me?

"This is Emily," Dad said, rubbing my back, "Can you say hi, pumpkin?"

I looked back over at the woman, back at her friendly smile as she peered over at me.

"Hello, Emily," She said, her voice was soft and melted like honey in the air. She was nothing like that other lady we had met at the park. She was gentle and calm and soothing. She respected my space, and I liked her for that.

"Hi," I mumbled, letting my words slur around the pacifier as I gave her a little wave.

Her eyes lit up my words. "My, my, aren't you just a precious little thing," She cooed, letting out that happy laugh that grandmas liked to do. Those chuckles laced with experience and love and hardship. "And how old are you Emily?"

I suckled my pacifier again, holding it tight against my lips as I thought for a moment. How old was I? I mean, what was I supposed to tell her? That I was a big kid who was supposed to be at school who was just charading as a diaper-wearing toddler sucking a pacifier. What had mom and dad said the other day, three? They had said I was three years old. That worked with me. Slowly, I held up three fingers, showing them to the lady while dad rubbed my back.

"A whole three years, huh, precious?"

I nodded, letting myself smiled from behind the pacifier as I kept my head against dad, listening to his heartbeat as the woman kept interacting with me, kept talking to me. I felt drawn to her for some reason. It was like I knew deep down that she was a good person, caring, and it made me happy that I could make her smile and laugh. Maybe being oohed and awwed at wasn't so bad after all.

And then dad's name was called. He said his goodbyes and thanked the man once more before heading for the hostess stand with mom by his side. I looked over dad's shoulder at the woman and waved once more at her as I was carried away. She waved back, still smiling at me, still radiating that feeling of warmth and love across the room.

"Party of three for Mark?"

"That's us."

I recognized that voice. It was Natalie, the same hostess from before. I turned to meet her gaze once again, her hazel eyes still sparkling with that look of baby fever as she watched me in dad's arms.

"Will you guys be needing a high chair tonight?"

I tensed up at the mention of a high chair. It was one thing to sit in one at home, but I didn't want to use one at a restaurant in front of others. Dad patted my bottom, letting me know to settle down.

Mom answered. "We will, thank you."

"Sure thing," Natalie said, turning to another staff member, "Can you tell Ethan to get a high chair for table seven please."

The guy nodded, disappearing from the hostess stand as Natalie turned back to us, grabbing a couple of menus and a couple of rolls of silverware. "You guys can follow me."

I sank in dad's arms, unhappy with the thought of the high chair as he carried me through the lines and rows of tables and booths, following Natalie as she led us to our table. A little booth tucked away in the corner of the restaurant. It was quieter than the main dining area, but the chatter and conversation of people still filled the air. And my high chair was already waiting there for me.

"Here you all are," Natalie said, placing the menus down before motioning for mom and dad to sit, smiling at me as dad sat me down in the high chair, clipping the little strap around my waist before taking his own seat. Mom sat across from him.

Natalie handed mom and dad their menus and then set a piece of paper and a pack of crayons down in front of me, letting me look over the picture as she turned to mom and dad. "Just to let you all know, we are having a special tonight. It's a Tuscon steak with garlic roasted green beans and mashed potatoes. If you have any questions please let me know. Your server should be with you momentarily."

"Thank you."

"My pleasure," Natalie said, turning to leave.

I eyed the picture of Minnie Mouse in front of me, picking up the pack of crayons that had been left for me.

"Would you like me to open your crayons for you?" Dad asked, pulling me closer to the table.

I nodded, handing the little plastic packet to him, waiting as he opened the packet and poured out the crayons in front of me. There were only four colors: red, blue, green, and yellow. The basic colors that every restaurant seemed to have no matter what. In most cases, it didn't matter, kids didn't care enough to worry about what colors they had, all that mattered was that they were occupied long enough for the restaurant to get food on the table. But in my case, it was just going to make the picture I was about to color look all the more babyish with clumsy color choices. But I didn't care, it was something to pass the time as mom and dad talked, and so I picked up the green crayon and went to work, making Minnie Mouse look a bit Grinch-like with her green makeover.

"What do you think, split a large and then get a small for her?" Mom asked, watching me as I colored.

"Ya, I think that'll work," Dad said, "What do you want, pumpkin, cheese?"

I nodded as I continued to color, not bothering to look up.

"Alright, cheese for the little pumpkin," Dad said, "Do you just want to do our regular on the large then?"

"That'll work," Mom said, playing with my hair. "We should order when they come to take our drinks.

Dad nodded. "Works with me."

It was only a minute later when our server came over.

"Good evening folks, my name is Ethan and I'll be your server for the night. Can I start you off with something to drink?"

His voice made me jump and turned, craning my neck to get a look at Ethan. He was a ginger, he neat red hair, matching with his freckled face and brown eyes.

Dad answered first. "Can I get a lemonade and then a water for the little one."

"Sure thing, and for you mam?"

"I'll just do a water as well."

"Awesome, and will we be starting with any appetizers or a side salad tonight?"

Dad again. "No, but I think we're ready to order if that's alight."

"Sure thing, I'm ready when you are."

"Can we get a large pizza? One-half Garden and the other half bacon, black olives, and mushroom?"

"One-half garden, and one-half bacon, black olives, and mushroom," Ethan repeated, scribbling in his notepad, "Alright, anything else?"

"And then a small cheese, and that'll be all."

"Sure thing, I'll get that in the kitchen right away, and then I'll be back with your drinks."

"Thank you."

Ethan nodded and then turned away, heading off to the next table.

I spent the next few minutes coloring as mom and dad talked and Ethan came back with our drinks. There was something so soothing about coloring. It let me focus on this one thing and ignore the world around me. All that excitement and stress that had filled me when we first arrived. I could actually relax and give my nerves a break while we waited for dinner. And then, I finished my very green Minnie Mouse.

"Daddy look," I said, letting the pacifier fall from my mouth as I tugged on his sleeve, trying to get his attention.

"What is it, pumpkin," He asked, turning towards me, smiling as I held the picture out to him. He took it and spent a second looking it over before commenting on it. "It's beautiful, pumpkin, you did a great job."

"Can I see?" Mom asked. I nodded and watched as dad handed her the picture. "Oh, wow, good job, sweetheart, very nice," Mom said, "Should we take it home and hang it on the fridge?"

I nodded, my smile beaming with their praise and approval as mom slipped the picture into my diaper bag, saving it for later.

"So," Dad said, changing the subject, "Did you do anything fun today, pumpkin?"

I nodded, taking a sip of water from my kid's cup. "Ya, I played with our village," I said, "Will you help me build more when we get home?"

Dad chuckled, ruffling my hair. "We could do that if you want, but I was thinking we could watch a movie tonight."

"A movie?"

"Ya, we could have a little movie night," Dad said, "We could snuggle up with some blankets and pillows and watch a movie."

"What movie though?"

"How about that new Trolls movie. The World Tour one."

I thought for a moment before answering. "Only if we can have popcorn."

"What kind of movie night would it be without popcorn?" Dad asked, tickling my side. "So what do you say, movie or no movie?"

I squirmed under his fingers, giggling, and trying to push his hands away as he tickled me. "And ice cream?"

"And ice cream."

I nodded, satisfied with my bargaining. "Movie please."

Things settled down after that and I sipped more of my water, letting my eyes wander past our table. I stopped when I saw another little girl across the room. She was sitting with her parents, her hair done up cute just like mine, the telltale diaper bag sitting next to her mom. A toddler, happy, and giggling as she colored her page just as I had done. Only, she was sitting in the booth and I was in a high chair. This girl, an actual toddler, had more freedom than I did. It made me blush as I slipped at that moment, remembering for a second that I wasn't actually a toddler. And then I felt the urge to pee, and without a second thought, I let it out, let that warmth spread throughout my diaper as it swelled with fresh urine. I may not have been physically a toddler, but I was a toddler all the same. I was just like her.

"Alright, folks, here, we are," Ethan said, snapping me from my thoughts as he set mom and dad's pizza on the little pizza stand on our table. He set my pizza down on yet another stand, this one closer to me, but out of my reach. "One large, half garden, half bacon, black olives, and mushroom. And then one small cheese. Is there anything else I can get you, folks?"

"No, I think we're good," Dad said.

Ethan nodded. "Then please enjoy and I'll be back in a couple of minutes to check in on you all."

My stomach growled in anticipation as I watched dad pull a slice off a slice of cheese pizza and slide it onto a plate. And as mom tied a bib around my neck, dad cut that piece of pizza into bite-sized pieces before setting it in front of me.

I stared down at the mutilated piece of pizza in front of me and then looked up at mom and dad glaring at them as they pulled their own slices onto plates and began eating. It wasn't fair that I had to eat my pizza and pieces, and I wanted to complain, but before I could my stomach rumbled, begging me to give in, to eat. I looked down again, at that mutilated slice. Pizza was pizza, right? I put aside the fact that I was out in public and sitting in a high chair with a wet diaper, wearing a bib with my pizza all cut up like one would for a toddler. I was hungry. And eating was all that mattered. Reaching down, I picked up one of the pieces and stuffed it into my mouth, chewing as I turned to watch that little girl again. Only the table was empty now. I let my eyes wander for another few seconds while I finished chewing and then turned back for another piece, this time keeping my focus on our table while we all ate in silence, filling out bellies.

A while later, the check was paid and we were all finishing up eating, with myself being the last to finish.

"Daddy, I'm done," I said, squirming in the high chair, getting antsy from having been stuck sitting for so long.

"Are you sure, pumpkin?" Dad asked.

"Uh-huh," I said, nodding as I pushed my plate away, letting dad take it from me and stack it with his own. "Well then, are we ready to go?"

"I think so," Mom said, opening the diaper bag and pulling out a packet of baby wipes, "Just give me a sec to get her cleaned up, and then we'll be ready."

Dad nodded as mom pulled a single baby wipe out from the packet, taking hold of each of my hands one at a time to wipe them clean and then holding my head still so that she could wipe my face and mouth off before untying my bib.

The wet wipe was tucked away in a plastic bag along with my bib and the baby wipes were placed back in the diaper bag and then we were ready to go. Mom and dad stood up from their seats and dad lifted me from the high chair, resting me on his hip. And then he patted my bottom and finally felt my soggy diaper.

"Uh-oh," Dad said, "Somebodies got a soggy butt."

Mom turned and smiled at me. "Is that so, sweetheart, did you go pee-pee?" She cooed, reaching over to feel my diaper.

I nodded as she pinched the back of my diaper, blushing as people from the surrounding tables started to take notice, making me squirm more

Mom rubbed my back as she spoke to dad. "She's not that wet, I think a diaper change can wait until we get home."

My face wrinkled at this. The diaper hadn't been uncomfortable before, but the idea of having to sit in my own pee until we got home made that squishy warmth feel cold and clammy all of a sudden. I didn't want to wait, I wanted to be changed now, wanted to ride home in a clean diaper. "You're not going to change me hear?"

Mom shook her head. "I'll change you when we get home, sweetheart."

"But I don't want to wait," I whined, starting to fuss and squirm in dad's arms. A protest that got me no closer to a fresh diaper, but rather left me stuck with my pacifier in my mouth as I was carried out of the restaurant. There would be no clean diaper for this ride home.

[SissyatHeart]

Chapter 8: Movie Night

 

"Mommy, please," I whined, whimpering as I followed mom into the bathroom. The tile was cold against my bare feet and the soggy diaper sagging between my legs was growing ever more uncomfortable with every minute. I pulled on it, feeling on the verge of tears as my eyes watered.

"I know, I know," Mom cooed, giving me a slight smile as she rubbed my back, "Just give mommy a couple of seconds to start your bath, sweetheart."

I whimpered again, continuing to pull at the diaper as mom turned away from me, putting her focus on the tub as opened the faucet, allowing water to flow into the tub. She waited there for another minute, ignoring me as I grew ever antsier, ever more irritated with my wet diaper. But she paid no mind as she ran her hand under the water a couple more times, testing the water temperature before setting the plug to let the tub fill, finally turning back to me.

"Alright," Mom cooed, reaching for my dress, "Let's get you ready for your bath."

I held my arms up as she pulled the dress up over my head, leaving me in my wet diaper as she tossed it into a nearby laundry hamper. I stepped to follow her out of instinct, not wanting to stray far from her side in my moment of discomfort, but she soon returned, smiling at me as she reached for the tapes of my diaper. The distinct sound of velcro ripping followed, and with that sound came a feeling of relief as the diaper fell to the ground, laying between my feet. Gone was the weight of the soggy thing, the coldness of the pee that had been irritating my skin.

"Better now?" Mom asked, reaching for my pigtails.

I nodded, wincing as her fingers worked on my hair, pulling on the little bands that had been holding my hair all day. It was always an uncomfortable feeling as mom pulled on the elastics, a brief discomfort, and then all that tension fell away as the little band was cut away. Mom brushed my hair out with her fingers, letting it fall down past my shoulders before moving to the other side. Again, I winced, there was a brief discomfort as the band was pulled on, and then it was cut away.

"You're going to need a haircut soon," Mom said, massaging my head and scalp for a moment to relieve any tension that had been there, "Maybe we can go get you a haircut next week."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. One that didn't bother me. I was already feeling relaxed and happy again as mom collected the little bands and my wet diaper from the ground, depositing the bands in the trash and balling my diaper up, setting it aside on the counter for later disposal.

"Now, how about we get you all scrubbed up and squeaky clean," Mom said, returning to my side, stopping the faucet, bathing the room in deafening silence as the water stopped running.

I nodded, letting mom grab me under my arms as she started to lift me up. My eyes focused on the water, on the stillness of the surface, and then my face wrinkled. Something was wrong, different. "No!" I screamed, pushing away from mom, wriggling in her arms until she set me back down, her own eyes were wide, searching for what had caused me to freak.

"What's the matter, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Mom asked, kneeling in front of me, keeping hold of my arms as she looked me in the eyes, worry flooding her face.

"Bubbles."

Mom sighed at that one word, let herself relax again as she let out a slight chuckle, pulling me in for a hug. "Silly mommy, I almost forgot," She said, rubbing my back as she stood again, crossing over to her sink where she opened the cabinet underneath, pulling out a little pink bottle. "Can you help mommy make some bubbles?"

I nodded, following mom over to the edge of the tub where she poured in some of the liquid mixture from the bottle, using her hands to mix it around the bath. I stood next to her, helping to move the water around, watching expectantly as bubbles started to form on the surface.

"Are you ready now?"

"Uh-huh," I said, nodding as mom grabbed me under the arms once again and lifted me over the side of the tub. My feet touched the water first. It was warm and soothing, the perfect temperature. And as I was sat inside, my muscles seemed to go limp as the warm water pulled me into a state of relaxation. I sat there for a few minutes, mesmerized in my own thoughts as I stared at the steam rising from the water, my hands playing with bubbles floating atop the water.

My mind was snapped back to as mom ran a washcloth over my back, her touch was gentle and caring, it felt good. And so I sank into her arms, letting her have control of me as she washed my body, working her way down my back and across my bottom before reaching for my arms and then my chest and belly. Soon, she was working her way down the rest of my body, over my diaper area and down my legs, ending with my feet, something that made me giggle and squirm as the cloth tickled the bottoms of my feet.

"Can you sit back for me, sweetheart?"

I nodded, and laid back against the edge of the tub, closing my eyes as mom poured a cup of water over my head, wetting my hair. The soothing feeling of shampoo being massaged into my scalp followed as mom took care in washing my hair, letting her fingers linger there for a bit as I enjoyed the moment. The warm water, the comforting touch, the pleasant smell of baby shampoo. It all brought back pleasant memories. Memories from when I was younger, from when I was an actual toddler. It was a warm feeling, loving. One that I never wanted to go away. I wanted it to last forever.

"Close your eyes, sweetheart."

I did as I told as more water was poured over my head, rinsing the shampoo out as it ran down my head and into the bathwater, adding to the already soapy mixture. I let out a breath, a sigh as mom kissed the back of my head, her fingers playing with my hair as we sat there for a few more minutes, mother and daughter, mother and baby.

"Are you ready to get out?"

I nodded, looking at my pruned fingers as mom pulled the plug on the tub, letting the water start to drain out, and with it, the warmth that it had brought. She helped me to stand in the tub and then pulled me out and wrapped me in a fluffy towel as I shivered in the air. Her arms hugged me and held me close as she dried me off.

"Let's go get your diaper on," Mom said, pressing her hand against my back as she urged me from the bathroom and back to their bedroom, back to where my crib and changing table were. She left me standing there, wrapped in my towel as she busied herself, picking out a pair of footed pajamas and a fresh diaper to dress me in for the night. And as I waited, an idea slipped into my head. I giggled at it, at the thought of playful defiance.

"What's so funny?" Mom asked, turning around to pick me up.

"Nothing," I said, continuing to giggle as I stepped away from her, my eyes narrowing as more giggles escaped my lips. It was simple, if she wanted to diaper me, she was going to have to catch me first.

"What's so funny?" Mom asked, trying to pick me up once again.

This time, I slipped past her, dropping the towel as I ran from her and towards the door to the hallway. Mom followed behind me, laughing herself as I streaked across the bedroom in my birthday suit.

"What are you doing, naked girl?" She asked, trying to contain her laughter as she chased me about the room, indulging me with this little game of tag.

"You got to catch me, mommy," I giggled, running from the room and down the hallway, looking over my shoulder as I ran.

And then I was wrapped in a pair of arms, caught in their embrace as I was lifted up and carried bridal style back to the room.

"Where are you going without a diaper, young lady?" Dad asked, laughing as I squirmed and giggled in his arms, fighting to be free. But he held me tight, and soon I was laying on my back on their bed, still squirming, still wriggling about as I laughed and giggled, playfully kicking at mom's hands as she brought the diaper over.

"Are you going to lay still so I can get your diaper on?" Mom asked, trying to compose herself as she grabbed for my feet, trying to stop my kicks.

"Nu-uh," I said, shaking my head as dad held my arms still. He leaned over, blowing a raspberry against my tummy, making me giggle and laugh harder. Mom used the distraction to grab my ankles and lift my bottom, sliding the diaper underneath me.

At the feel of the soft diaper, and an ache starting in my side from laughing so hard, I calmed down, catching my breath as mom brought over some cream and powder. Dad kept hold of me, making silly faces at me, getting me to laugh as mom finished diapering me. And then I was let up. I turned and attacked dad, playfully wrestling with him as mom retrieved my footed pajamas.

"Emily," Mom said, patting the side of the bed, "Let's get your jammies on, sweetheart."

I looked at her and then back at dad, not wanting this moment of play to end.

"Go on, pumpkin," Dad said, patting my diapered bottom, "Once your jammies are on we can go get some ice cream."

Ice cream. I had forgotten about it. Had forgotten about our movie night. A renewed excitement returned to my body as I crawled over to mom, laying at the edge of the bed as she slipped the footed pajamas up my feet. and over my bottom. She stood me up to finish pulling up my body and over my arms and then zipped it the front up, snapping the zipper closed at the top.

"Ready?" She asked, pulling me into her arms.

"Ready," I said, nodding as I was carried from the room.

Minutes later, we were in the kitchen, I was sitting on a stool, waiting with a bowl in front of me as dad brought two containers of ice cream over.

"Chocolate or Vanilla?" Dad asked, setting the two containers of ice cream in front of me.

"That one," I said, pointing at the chocolate.

Dad smiled, laughing. "How did I know that already?" He asked, popping open the container of ice cream.

"Chocolate's my favorite," I said, leaning over to watch him scoop the ice cream.

"You and me both," Dad said, dropping two scoops in my bowl, letting the ice cream fall in between the banana sitting on either side. It was the beginning of a banana split, a delicacy to say the least.

"Now," Dad said, leaning across the counter, bopping me on the nose, "It's time for the best part."

"Toppings!"

"That's my girl."

I giggled, watching as dad retreated, first to a cabinet, pulling out a mix of bottles and containers, and then to the fridge where he grabbed an equal amount of items, bringing them all over to me. Sprinkles, chocolate and caramel sauce, whipped cream, chocolate chips, and even brownie bites. It was a sight to behold.

"I want all of them," I said, reaching across the counter and for the container of brownie bites.

"All of them?" Dad asked, laughing as he helped me open the container.

"Yeah."

"Alright, one sugar rush coming up," He said, watching as I placed two brownie pieces on either side of my ice cream. The next few minutes were a mix of dad helping, and me doing as we added the rest of the toppings to my ice cream, laughing and giggling as we did so, turning the kitchen into a disaster zone in the process as sprinkles and chocolate sauce found their way onto the kitchen counter. And the end result, a heaping bowl of ice cream and banana, topped with all the chocolatey and sugary goodness known to man. All capped off with a heavy dose of whipped cream. It was a masterpiece, and it was all mine.

"Here," Dad said, handing me the bowl with a spoon as she ushered me off to the living room with a couple of diaper pats, "Go show mommy and I'll be over in a minute."

"Ok," I said, walking from the kitchen to the living room where I stood in front of mom, a smile beaming across my face as I giggled, showing her what I had made.

"Oh, wow," Mom said, "Do you want me to hold that for a second while you sit down?"

"Yes please," I said, letting mom take the bowl as I climbed onto the couch, taking a spot in the middle beside mom. She handed me the bowl, letting me dig into the mound of awesomeness as I started to fill my mouth and tastebuds with chocolatey, sugary goodness.

A few minutes later, the kitchen lights shut off and I turned to see dad coming around the couch, a bowl of ice cream in each of his hands. One for him and one for mom.

"Thank you," Mom said.

"Your welcome," Dad said, taking a seat beside me, on the other side of the couch, "Now what do you say we get this movie started up?"

"Mmm-hmm," I nodded, my mouth full of ice cream and my face covered in it as dad started the TV up, switching to the movie.

"You didn't by chance bring her a bib, did you?" Mom asked, doing her best to wipe my face with nearby tissue.

"I must have forgotten it," Dad said, his voice playful and eyes guilty as he started the movie up.

"Is that so," Mom countered, equally playful, while I giggled, stuffing myself with my more ice cream.

It was minutes later when the clanking of metal against ceramic stopped as bowls of ice cream were scrapped clean.

"Are you finished?" Mom asked, nudging me as she reached for my bowl.

I nodded, letting her take the empty bowl from me as she stood to make a trip to the kitchen. With her being gone and no more ice cream to occupy me, I laid out on the couch resting my head on dad's lap, curling up under one of the many blankets as the movie continued to play. The colorful characters were funny and I giggled at their antics, enjoying the singing mixed in with it all.

Mom returned minutes later and took her spot once again. She leaned over, placing a pacifier in front of my face. "Just in case you want it," She whispered, patting my diaper before settling back in.

I looked at the pacifier for a second, the urge to pull it into my mouth and suckle growing stronger with it in front of me. It was a feeling of need, a fixation, something that I needed to do. And so, with a quick glance at mom, I popped it into my mouth, suckling it as I settled back in to watch the movie, more relaxed now, happier, content with the night. Everything was just the way it was supposed to be. All of us cuddled up together and watching a movie. I felt happy, loved. And even dad seemed to be getting into the Trolls movie, laughing and giggling with me every time something funny happened, and then gasping and acting shocked when unexpected things happened. It made me feel cared about. A moment of family bonding. And I was loving every bit of it. Every bit of tonight. Every bit of this baby treatment. It was growing on me, and I on it. The snug warmth wrapped around my hips and bottom brought a special kind of comfort and security that was hard to explain.

It was a while after that, and a good way into the movie when our trio moved once again. I was starting to feel the first effects of sleepiness, rubbing my eyes as I laid there on the couch, watching the movie. It had been a good while since I had been allowed to stay up this late, and my new enforced bedtime was showing its effects.

"Do you guys want any popcorn?" Mom asked, standing up.

"I would love some," Dad said, also standing, disturbing my resting place in the process, "Sorry pumpkin, daddy's got to use the bathroom real quick."

Bathroom. The need to go. The need to pee. I felt it too, but unlike dad, I didn't have to worry about holding it until I got to the bathroom, I didn't have to worry about getting up. Instead, I let myself relax my body as I let my bladder go, flooding my diaper with the fresh warmth of urine. And I was still all warm and cozy and comfortable snuggled up under my blanket.

"Emily, do you want some popcorn, sweetheart?"

I shook my head.

"Do you want anything else?"

I thought for a second and then nodded. "Can I have some milk, please?"

"Warm or cold?"

"Warm please."

"Sure thing, sweetheart."

And with that, I was left alone on the couch, watching the movie and suckling my pacifier as I awaited my parents' return. The sound of popping popcorn sounded in the background and was soon met with the flush of a toilet. Dad was the first to return, and snuggled back in next to me, letting me rest my head back on his lap. Mom returned minutes later and handed dad a bowl of popcorn and me my bottle.

I let the pacifier fall from my mouth and lay in front of me as I took the nipple of the bottle into my mouth, nursing the warm milk as I watched the movie. The milk was warm and soothing as it trickled down my throat. It had a hint of vanilla mixed in with its already sweet tones, and it was thick. I knew enough by now to know that it wasn't actually milk, but formula. But that stream of thought ended as my attention was drawn back to the movie, back to the characters who had managed to work their way into the Rock Trolls lair. Things were starting to heat up and I didn't want to miss a single second.

At least, that's what I told myself, but my body had other ideas. With my already tired eyes and the addition of warm formula, I was being lulled to sleep as the movie continued. I fought it, tried to fight it, but my eyes kept getting heavier and heavier and my head began to drop as the world around me seemed to fade away. I was losing the fight. Even the bottle in my hands felt heavy, a burden that was too difficult to hold up. And then that weight was gone. I opened my eyes to see dad holding my bottle, letting me continue to nurse as he held it there, and then he pulled the nipple from my mouth, making me whimper.

"I know, I know," He said, rubbing my back as I sat up and rubbed my eyes, letting that feeling of sleep fade away for a second.

He held his arms out, welcoming me into his lap, an invitation I gladly accepted as I made myself comfortable in his arms, laying my head in the crook of his arm as I glanced over at mom. She too was sleeping, her head resting against the arm of the couch with gentle snores escaping her sleeping form.

"Do you still want your bottle, pumpkin?"

I nodded, letting dad slip the nipple into my mouth, holding the bottle for me as I nursed. We locked eyes for a moment, his smile beaming down on me with love and joy. We held that gaze for a few moments and then the temptation of the movie grabbed my attention once again, drawing my eyes to the screen as I continued to nurse from the bottle.

And minutes after, with some milk still left in the bottle, the movie ended. I felt inclined to move, inclined to stand up, to do something. But when I tried to pull myself away from the bottle and dad's lap, his arms held me still and the nipple remained in my mouth.

"It's alright, pumpkin," Dad cooed, "Just relax, it's alright to sleep, daddy's got you."

I settled back in with those soothing words, relaxing into dad's warm body as the TV shut off, bathing the room in a darkness only illuminated by the stove light from the kitchen. And we sat there together, cuddled up as I continued to nurse, letting my eyes grow heavy with sleep once again as I drained the bottle. And then there was nothing left. I whimpered, opening my eyes as I sucked in air, a whimper that was met with gentle cooes and whispers as dad pulled the bottle out and replaced it with my pacifier, coaxing me to settle back down, coaxing me to sleep as the darkness of slumber pulled me under once again.

The sound of velcro ripping pulled my mind back awake. It took a second for my brain to catch up, for things to come back into focus. And as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, suckling my pacifier, I felt a familiar sensation against my bottom, a baby wipe, it's chilly, soothing touch as it ran across my bottom. Only, it was a new feeling. The hands holding my ankles were larger than mom's, stronger, rougher. And the hand wiping my bottom went about it differently, there was more force behind the wipe, a quicker hand, less gentle, but not uncomfortable. My face wrinkled and as I looked to the side, my eyes went wide. It was dad. He was the one holding my legs. He was the one wiping my bottom. he was the one changing my diaper. There was a moment of panic as that realization set in. The pacifier fell from my mouth as I started to whimper, tears formed on my cheeks.

"Hey, hey, it's ok, pumpkin," Dad cooed, trying to push the pacifier back into my mouth, his eyes wide and filled with panic as he tried to soothe and calm me. "What's the matter, baby?"

What's the matter? The awkwardness, the newness, the shock, the difference? I wasn't sure myself. I didn't understand my own emotions. All I knew was that dad hadn't changed my diaper before, not since I was an actual baby, and the thought of him being the one to change me flipped a switch inside my head. I wanted mom, and he wasn't mom.

"Hey, sweetheart," A new voice whispered. Mom. Her fingers ran through my hair, her smile and tired eyes meeting mine as I looked up at her. She picked up the pacifier from where it had fallen on the changing mat and held it up to my mouth, pressing it against my lips. "It's ok, you're ok, baby, it's just daddy," She cooed, "He's just changing your diaper, that's all."

And she was right. It was just a diaper change. It was just a father changing his daughter's diaper. That was all. I sighed, letting myself relax as I took the pacifier again, suckling it as dad went back to wiping my bottom. And just like any other diaper change, it was over in a matter of minutes. The wipes were put away, a layer of cream was rubbed into my bottom and diaper bits, and then a dusting of powder was sprinkled on top of that. And before I knew it, I was back in a diaper, back being hugged by that comforting warmth and security. And moments after that, my footed jammies were zipped back up.

"There we go," Dad cooed, pulling me from the changing pad and into his arms, letting my head lay against his shoulder. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" He asked, moving to the rocking chair.

I shook my head, moving in his arms as we both snuggled into the chair, his rocking and firm touch lulling me back to sleep. His soft smile and loving eyes knowing that I was safe. That I was loved. That I was cared for. I was in daddy's arms, and that was all that mattered.

[SissyatHeart]

Chapter 9: Choices and Consequences

 

Another thud sounded from upstairs, the thumping of a heavy object as though it were being moved. My ears drew to it by instinct, perking up with curiosity and excitement at the unknown. Dad had been up there all morning, only coming downstairs once to take a break and have lunch with us. And still, nobody would tell me what was going on. And that only made my curiosity burn brighter.

"Mommy?" I asked, turning to face mom, "What's daddy doing?" It was my umpteenth time asking that very same question today.

Mom sighed, not even bothering to look up from her book as she answered on autopilot. "He's just moving some stuff around, sweetheart, it's nothing to worry about."

Just some stuff? Nothing to worry about? All that said to me was that there was something going on, that there was something to worry about. It made me want to know all the more, but still, I wasn't allowed up there, wasn't allowed to go upstairs by myself, and the baby gate made sure of that.

And so I huffed, turning back to my dollies and stuffed toys, playing with my dollhouse as my imagination wandered, dreaming up all the possibilities of what dad could be doing up there. Possibilities that seemed endless.

As I played, I would let my eyes wander to the stairs, my curiosity begging for me to go look, to just sneak upstairs for a quick peek, and every time my eyes went that way, mom's seemed to follow, giving me the look, letting me know to not even try, to not even think about it. But I couldn't help myself, the urge was getting too strong, like a child on Christmas eve, the excitement was too much. I needed to know.

And then I finally got the opportunity.

"Alright, sweetheart," Mom said, setting her book down, "Mommy's going to go to the bathroom, and then I'll be right back, ok?"

"Ok," I said, feigning disinterest as mom disappeared down the hallway, but inside, my heart was pounding away as adrenaline rushed throughout my body. I could hear her footsteps echoing on the tile, and then they stopped, I turned my head, watching, waiting for a moment to make sure she was gone. She was. My heart pounded with excitement, with rebellion. It was now or never. Standing up, I made my way to the stairs, running-tiptoeing as I went, trying to contain my excitement as I reached the base of the stairs and the baby gate.

I frowned, eyeing the infantile thing. It had been there ever since the day I stormed away from mom, a reminder that I was now a toddler, and that the stairs were too dangerous for me. But what mom and dad didn't know couldn't hurt them, right?

And so, I grabbed the latch, fumbling with the button as I squeezed it, straining to get the gate open. And there was a click, I froze for a moment, collecting myself, my emotions, and then I pulled on the latch, and the gate swung open.

There was a second thought crossing my mind, one that told me that I shouldn't do this, that this was all a bad idea, a very bad idea. And then there was a part of me that thought of this as an adventure, as a way to quell the boredom of the day, and that side of me won over. I took a step, pausing for a moment, listening. My heart pounded in the silence, my senses heightened with adrenaline. And then I took another step, pausing again, listening again. And then another step. And another step. And soon, I was at the top of the stairs, my eyes peering over the edge as I looked down the hallway, watching for dad, listening for his movements. There was no sign of him, nothing out of the ordinary.

And then my eyes caught sight of my door. My door. My bedroom. The bedroom I hadn't been in since this whole baby treatment started. More excitement gathered in my body, an energy that was getting hard to contain. I crept forward, tiptoeing down the hallway towards the door. And then I froze, my eyes going wide as dad's voice filtered into my ears.

"Why won't these drawers fit?" Dad said, mumbling to himself. He sounded frustrated, tired. Oh, that's why, I put the darned sides on upside down. I mean it's from Ikea for crying out loud, it's supposed to be easy to put together."

I frowned. Why was he building something in my room? What was he building? I crept closer, still listening as I got to the door, holding my ear up to the crack to listen more.

"Come on, Mark, it's just a changing table, you've built on before, and everything else is already set up. Just finish this and you'll be done with the hard part."

Why was he building a changing table? And why was he building it in my room? Didn't I already have a station set up on their dresser in their bedroom? None of this was making any sense.

And then something else happened. Mom. Her voice carrying up to me from downstairs. I had taken too long. She was back from the bathroom.

"Emily," She called, her voice carrying a hint of worry in the tone, "Where'd you go, sweetheart, are you hiding from mommy?"

If only she knew. I still had a chance, still had an opportunity to leave know and not get caught. But I had come too far to stop now. I needed to know, needed to know what dad was doing. I paused for a second, holding my breath, being as quiet as possible, and then I let a single eye peak around the corner. The first thing that hit me was the walls. They were no longer the whitish tan that they used to be, but rather a light gray. The color reminded me of something in particular, like I had a memory of it, buried somewhere deep in the back f my mind. And then it hit me. It was the same exact gray from Abagail's nursery. The same exact gray mom had helped her sister choose when they were designing the baby's nursery. And now here it was, in my room, in my bedroom. But why? I needed to know.

"Emily!" Mom called again, her voice becoming more frantic, "Can you please come out for me, sweetheart."

I was going to be in big trouble, but I had already passed the point of no return. There was no going back, I had committed to this already. My heart quickened, even more, thumping in my chest as though it were trying to escape. It was all starting to click in my brain, dad talking about the changing table, the walls. I knew, deep down I knew what it all meant, knew what it all was for. But I needed to be sure, I needed to know.

I pushed the door open, holding my breath as it swung open, waiting for the squeak that never came, and then I stepped inside. And I wanted to scream right then and there.

It was gone. Everything was gone. My dresser, my desk, my bed, my TV, my decorations. Everything. All of it. Gone. All that was there was dad sitting in the middle of the floor with his back to me, a set of instructions laying off to his side, and a piece of furniture laying on the ground in front of him. A piece of furniture that indeed reminded me of a changing table. It all made me so angry, so nauseous.

"Emily!" Mom called again, this time her voice drifted up the stairs as her footfalls sounded on the steps. "Honey is Emily up there!"

I had heard it. Dad had heard it. I knew he had heard it because he turned to look at me almost as soon as mom had finished her sentence.

There was a bit of surprise on his face as he smiled at me. "Ya, she's right here!" Dad called back, climbing to his feet. "How'd you get up here, pumpkin?"

"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice direct and demanding.

Dad shook his head, seeming to ignore my question as he carried on talking over me. "You're not supposed to be up here," He said, guiding me back out of the room. My room.

"What... Are... You... Doing? I asked again, letting my voice linger on every word, letting my anger build up as dad stood in the doorway, keeping me out of the room as mom started down the hallway. Both of them seeming to corral and trap me upstairs.

"Emily, why don't we go talk about this downstairs," Mom suggested, her tone calm and caring, a change from her worry and anxiety a minute ago. But still, no anger, not even a hint of it at the fact I had come up here alone.

I paused for a moment, her words washing over me as I thought, trying to choose my next move, trying to figure out what was going on, and then I shook my head. "No."

"No what, sweetheart?" Mom asked.

"I don't want to go downstairs," I said, crossing my arms, standing my ground there in the hallway. "I want to know what happened to my room."

"And we can talk about that downstairs," Mom said as dad took my hand, both of them trying to take control over the situation as though I were nothing but a fussy toddler.

My face turned red at this, at the fact that they weren't listening to me, that they wouldn't tell me. It frustrated me, made me mad, and as dad tried to lead me towards mom, I exploded.

"No," I growled, pulling my hand out of dad's grasp. "You're not listening to me!" I screamed, "I want to know what happened to my room!"

"Emily, that's not our inside voice, now is it?" Dad asked, reaching for me again.

"I don't care anymore!" I seethed, pushing him away, breathing heavily as I glared at my parents, anger pouring out of my eyes.

There was a pause for a moment, a silence between us all in the hallway as my parents stood in shock, unsure of what to make of my outburst, at my shift in tone. And then mom spoke up, breaking that silence.

"Why don't we all just take a sec..."

"What... Did... You... Do... To... My... Room?" I asked again, staring mom down with deep anger in my eyes, cutting her off mid-sentence. There was a certain tone, certain spite in each of those words as I sounded them out.

"That's it, you're getting a time out," Dad said, pointing towards the stairs. "Downstairs, now."

A time out? Did he really just threaten me with a time out. That angered me even more. The idea that even at this moment they were still treating me like a toddler. I couldn't take it anymore.

"Would you both just stop treating me like I'm some little baby!" I screamed, backing away from dad as he moved towards me once again. I was trapped, like an animal with nowhere to go. I knew that. Mom and dad knew that. And then I saw it. The bathroom door, the bathroom I used to use every day, the bathroom that had had a child lock on it ever since this baby treatment started. And it was open, the light left on inside beckoning me forward. Dad must have left it open at some point. An opportunity to escape. And I took it.

I slipped inside, slamming the door shut with dad on my heels, locking it mere milliseconds before the knob jiggled and dad pounded on the door, telling me to open the door.

But that wasn't going to happen. I was over this. Over all of this. The diapers, the baby treatment. It had been ok at first, even fun at times, but my bedroom was the last straw. I was sick of it, and mom and dad didn't seem to understand that. If they weren't going to listen, then I would have to show them.

No sooner than that thought finished, I felt the urge to pee, and for once, I held it back, saving it for something other than a stupid diaper. I let my eyes drift to the toilet, and smiled.

"Emily!" Dad said, "Open this door right now!"

"Or what?"

There was a pause, some urgent whispering, and then mom's voice.

"Emily, sweetheart, please open the door," Mom begged from the other side, her voice still so settled, so calm, trying to coax me from the room.

Only that wasn't going to be happening today.

"No."

"Emily, please, we just want to talk, sweetheart."

"Go away."

"Emily."

"I said go away!"

I ignored mom's next comments, my heart beating heavy as everything seemed to fade away except for the toilet. I stepped over to it, letting my hands run over the child latch, giving my brain a second to figure out how to open it. And then my fingers pressed into the button, straining to, giving it all, and then it clicked, and the latch fell away. It was open. The toilet seat was open.

I fumbled with the snaps of my onesie, pulling at the buttons between my crotch until they popped open. I pulled the infantile garment over my head and threw it off to the side, leaving myself dressed in only a diaper. And I stood there for a moment, looking down at Elmo, at the diaper taped snug around me. It looked so natural there, like it was mean to be there. I ran my hands over the cloth material, thinking for a moment, my mind flipping back through all those times mom had changed my diaper, how relaxing those moments had been, how loving those moments had been, and then my fingers found the tapes, and two quick rips later the diaper fell to the ground between my feet, freeing me of any kind of infantile presence. This is what I wanted after all, right? To be a big girl again, for this baby treatment to end, right?

At least that's what I told myself. But still, I couldn't help but feel a nervous pit rising inside of me as I sat down on the toilet, scooting back onto it. The porcelain was cold against my legs and bottom, an uncomfortable feeling, hard and unforgiving, compared to the soft warmth of my diaper.

My diaper. I frowned at that thought. Why was I so fixated on the stupid diaper, I didn't need it, I didn't want it. I shook my head, forcing those thoughts from my head, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of the toilet as I focused on the task at hand.

Peeing.

Something so natural, something so easy, and yet so difficult. I tried to relax, tried to let myself go, but I couldn't, it was like there was a mental block there. It just felt so... so wrong. It was so cold, so uncomfortable. If only I were... No, just stop, stop thinking about.

"Come on, just go already," I whispered to myself, knocking that thought from my mind, forcing myself to pee on the toilet. It was supposed to feel good to use the toilet, right? I mean, that's what's ingrained into us throughout childhood, toilet good, diaper bad. I wanted to use the toilet, wanted to prove that I was a big girl, that I didn't need to be treated like a baby.

And then, finally, a small trickle started, the sweet sound of pee bouncing off the water below filled my ears. I smiled. It was a relief to let my bladder go, like a weight being lifted from my chest.

And I waited.

I waited for some kind of magical 'ah-hah' moment to happen, for myself to realize that I hated wearing diapers, hated being treated like a baby. I wanted to hate it, and yet, as I sat there on the cold and uncomfortable seat, my eyes couldn't help but wander to the diaper on the floor, my brain couldn't help but think about how warm and soft and comforting it was.

It was an 'ah-hah' moment, just not the one I was expecting. I hadn't expected to miss the warm, heavy feeling of urine pooling in my diaper, and the comforting squish of it afterward. I hadn't expected to miss that security, that warmth, that comfort. I hadn't expected to actually want a diaper.

The door jiggled, my eyes locked on to the handle as it moved about, as though someone was working it from the other side, trying to get in. And then there was a subtle click, and I watched the lock turn, making my heart skip a beat as the door swung open, and in came dad, his face red and hot, his eyes narrowed and cold, angry.

Emily?" He asked, his voice short and serious. The tone was one that I hadn't heard in a long time. "What are you doing using the big girl potty?"

"Da... Daddy..."

"Save it," Dad said, cutting me off, "I don't want to hear another word from you."

"But..."

"Not... Another... Word..."

Dad grabbed me by the arm, pulling me off the toilet and onto my feet, pulling me into the hallway. I pulled against him, trying to make him stop, trying to get him to slow down as he kept leading me to their bedroom, to the rocking chair. I knew what was coming.

"Daddy please," I begged, tears starting to stream down my cheeks, falling to the floor as my legs collapsed under me, my body flopping down like a ragdoll. No different than a toddler having a temper tantrum.

Dad pulled me back to my feet and threw me over his shoulder, continuing down the hallway and into their room as I flailed about in his arms, kicking and hitting and screaming and crying. All those bottled up emotions, all those thoughts and discoveries pouring out of me all at once.

And then I was set down, my feet touching the ground for just a second before I was pulled over dad's lap and pinned down by his arms with my naked bottom exposed.

"Daddy please don't," I tried once more, my voice muddled between my tears and sobs, one last hopeless plead. "Please, I'm sorry."

There was a moment of silence before his hand came down. The calm before the storm. I held my breath, freezing in his lap as I readied myself. And then his hand came down with an audible smack. A stinging pain rang out on my bottom, making me yelp out as I squirmed again.

"I really didn't want to have to do this," Dad said, pausing before bringing his hand down again, "But what you just did is unacceptable, young lady."

SMACK

"We don't yell."

SMACK

"We don't break the rules."

SMACK

"We don't lock doors

SMACK

"We don't take our diaper off."

SMACK

"And we don't use the big girl potty."

SMACK

I was a sobbing mess by the time dad let me up from his lap. Snot was dripping down my red and puffy face, mixing with my flow of tears as I sobbed. My bottom stung something worse, and I rubbed it as mom held her arms out to me, pulling me into a hug, comforting me, soothing me.

I looked up from mom's shoulder as dad left the room. Something about his posture struck me as he left. It was the way his hand came up to his face, almost as though he were wiping tears away from his eyes. Was dad crying?

Mom lifted me up and laid me back on the changing table. I winced as my bottom touched down, still feeling the sting from dad's hand. A pacifier was slipped into my mouth and I suckled it, looking up at mom as she unfolded a fresh diaper. Even after all I had done there was no anger on her face, no soft smile either, but the soothing calm remained.

"I know this can all be hard to understand," Mom said, lifting my ankles, "And I know that you're upset and frustrated and confused, but what you did today, sweetheart, was unacceptable."

A cold cream touched my warm bottom, making me wince and sense, but that stinging feeling melted away with mom's gentle touch as she massaged the cream into my bottom, soothing the redness that had been there.

"I don't know what to say, sweetheart," She said, laying my bottom down on the diaper, "I don't know what to say other than I'm disappointed in you."

Those words struck home to me. Disappointed. She had never said that before. Had never told me that before. It felt like she had ripped my heart out, leaving behind an empty void.

Some powder was dusted over my diaper area and then the diaper was pulled up between my legs and taped snug against my tummy. "I really thought we were making progress," Mom said, "I really did."

She lifted me from the table and into her arms, holding me tight again, kissing my cheek as she bounced me.

I swiped at the tears still dripping down my face, still choking back the occasional shudder and sob as my body wound down from the excitement of the moment. And then I was laid in my crib, my blanket tucked up and around my body.

"I love you, sweetheart," Mom said, leaning down to kiss me once more, stroking my hair as she stood there for a moment, watching me. "And I always will."

I was left with that, with those words as mom left the room, switching the light off on her way, leaving me in the semi-darkness of the afternoon light. And as the door clicked shut, the pacifier fell from my mouth as I turned over in the crib, burying my face in the pillow, sobbing.

And as I laid there crying, all those confusing thoughts and feelings from before came flooding back into my mind. Seeing my empty bedroom, seeing it painted gray with a changing table in the middle had made me upset, had made me mad on so many different levels.

But why had I been mad?

I thought it was because I was sick of diapers, sick of being treated like a baby, but that wasn't the case. I did like diapers, I did like being a baby, liked being treated like a toddler. But seeing my room there, made it all too real. The idea of leaving behind my old self, of completely leaving behind that big girl scared me, and so I had acted out, no different than a toddler. And it broke the bond and trust I had with my parents. Everything that had been built up over the past month felt like it was crashing down around me. It felt like I was back at square one, felt like I was back on that first day.

[Sarah Penguin]

Hmm

[treasuresman]

One step forward, two steps backwards 

She is about to find out actions have consequences and nothing she will enjoy I bet 

[D503]

Poor thing. She was adjusting so well, but it's hard, there'll always be some challenges to really letting go.

[SissyatHeart]

Chapter 10: Emotions

 

"Emily..." It was a soft, cooing voice, "Emily, come on, baby, it's time to wake up."

I groaned, curling up tighter, snuggling further under the warmth of my blanket, refusing to open my eyes as a warm hand rubbed over my back, coaxing me to wake.

"Emily," The voice cooed again, it was mom, "Can you wake up for me, sweetheart?"

I smiled at her voice, at how soft and soothing it was, at how loving it was. My eyes fluttered open as the pacifier was pulled from my mouth, and I blinked, rubbing the drowsiness of sleep from my eyes as a nipple teased against my lips, slipping inside. I stretched for a moment, suckling on the warm teat, pulling the sweet, creamy formula from the nipple as I settled back down, taking hold of the warm baby bottle with my hands.

"There we go, sweetheart," Mom whispered, running her fingers through my hair, Such a good girl."

I nursed from the bottle, enjoying the warmth of the formula, that sweetness, as I let myself drift back into the dreamy peace and calm, that state between the conscious and the unconscious world. It was a good feeling, a happy feeling.

"Can you open your eyes for me, sweetheart?" Mom asked, her fingers still running through my hair, her warm hand still caressing my head as I nursed, "Can you show mommy those pretty blue eyes of yours?"

I waited, lingering in that quiet calm, in that peacefulness for a moment before letting my eyes flutter open again, this time with a sigh of content as my eyes greeting the morning light. I kept suckling, kept nursing at the baby bottle as I gazed u at mom with sleepy eyes, letting a small smile form behind the milky nipple.

"Well, there you are, sleepyhead," Mom cooed, her own smile meeting mine, showering me with motherly love and affection, "I thought you were going to sleep the whole day away, sweetheart."

I groaned, still waking up as my eyes peered past the crib bars to the room around me. My room. My nursery. Those gray walls, so light and airy, highlighting the changing table on the other side of the room, that pink pad standing out on top, and then the rocking chair, tucked into the corner by the window. It made me relax, made me feel safe and loved, comforted, and adored.

My attention, my smile was brought back to mom as her hand cupped my diaper, squeezing it through my sleeper.

"Someones a little wet this morning," Mom cooed, rubbing my belly, "But a diaper change can wait until we finish your baba."

I suckled again at the teat of the bottle as mom pulled me from the crib, settling me on her hip as she bounced, cooing and kissing me as carried me over to the rocking chair, sitting down with me settled across her lap, cradling me. And as she started to rock and hum, I sank back into her arms, letting her take the bottle from me, letting her hold it for me. And with the nipple nestled between my lips, pulled tight against the roof of my mouth, my tongue gumming at the bottom of it, I suckled, I nursed, drinking down the warm formula as we locked eyes. Mother and daughter. Mommy and baby.

"Emily," Mom said, that smile still settled on her face, "It's time to wake up, sweetheart."

I frowned from behind the nipple as I continued suckling. Wake up? I was already awake. I brushed it off, nursing, grimacing at the dryness in my throat. It felt hoarse, sore even.

"Emily," Mom said, shaking me now, gentle and yet jarring, "Can you wake up for me, sweetheart?"

I whimpered, still nursing, that feeling of soreness spreading to my face. Making my skin feel tight and sticky and raw, the way one feels after a day at the beach. It was uncomfortable, it was irritating.

"You've been sleeping all afternoon, sweetheart," Mom said, shaking me again, harder this time, and yet still gentle. "You got to wake up, baby."

All afternoon. But it was morning? I was confused and my whimpers grew with these interruptions. And then that image, that moment with mom, being cradled in my nursery, nursing as she bottle-fed me, started to fade, turning to an inky blackness as everything disappeared. And then that nipple was pulled from my mouth and my eyes shot open, greeting a new world, one that was bathed in the darkness of night. My eyes went wide, tears streamed down my cheek as I sat up in the crib. I was still in mom and dad's room, still in my crib there.

"Are you ok, sweetheart?" Mom asked, rubbing my back as the weight of sleep left my body, as that dream floated into oblivion, leaving me with the harshness of reality.

I nodded, letting her lift me from the crib and into her arms, brushing my matted hair out of my face. She started to move and I whined, reaching back towards the crib, back to where my pacifier laid, needing its soothing comfort.

"Shh, it's alright," Mom cooed, bending over to grab the pacifier from my crib, slipping it back into my mouth where it belonged.

I suckled hard on it, letting it calm my nerves as I laid my head against mom's shoulder, feeling so exhausted. That soreness still in my throat, that tightness still on my face, and confusion clouding my mind.

"You must have been tired after all those tears," Mom said, rubbing my back as she bounced, me carrying me over to the rocking chair.

All those tears. What did she mean by that? I kept thinking, kept waking up as she sat down, adjusting me on her lap so that my head was laying against her chest, her arms wrapped around me, holding me close.

And then it clicked. All those tears. It came rushing back to me. All those tears. I remembered. My face was sticky and raw from crying. No. Not crying. Sobbing. Wailing. I remembered. It was a moment of realization that unleashed a cascade of memories. I remembered. It played over and over again in my head on a loop, like a nightmare that wouldn't end, only there was no escape from it, there was no waking up and forgetting about it. I remembered sneaking upstairs seeing my room. I remembered yelling and screaming and locking myself in the bathroom. I remembered taking my diaper off and using the big girl potty. I remembered being spanked and crying to sleep. I remembered mom saying something to me. A single word that was ingrained in memory. disappointed. It burned deep, piercing my soul, leaving a hole that needed mending.

"Why are you crying, sweetheart?" Mom asked, rubbing my back. "Why are you so sad?"

I reached up to rub the fresh tears from my face. I hadn't even realized I had been crying, hadn't realized that those tears had already made a wet patch on mom's shirt.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Mom asked, running her fingers through my hair. "Are you ok?"

I nodded, telling myself that it was all going to be ok, telling myself that everything was going to be just fine. But those tears said otherwise. My heavy, quick breathing, my shuddering, said otherwise. And even as I choked back those tears, even as I willed those emotions away, even as I willed all those awful memories and thoughts away, that sob still formed. That painful lump in my chest. And the harder I tried to keep it at bay, the larger it got and the harder it fought to claw its way from my body, forcing itself out. And as that pain finally escaped, as my pacifier fell from my mouth, I started to cry. No. Scratch that. I started to sob. Right in mom's arms. Right into her chest. It hurt. Everything hurt.

"Hey, shh, shh, it's ok, baby, it's alright," Mom tried soothing, rocking me, trying to calm me down, trying to quiet my sobs. "Everythings alright, it's ok, sweetheart, you're ok."

But her words didn't make it alright, didn't soothe the aching pain radiating deep from within my body, that dreaded feeling of pure agony at the memory of what I had done, at the trust I had destroyed. That stupid, stupid mistake. And as I sobbed, her warm arms held me close, her loving voice soothed me, her gentle rocks comforted me, her steady heartbeat calmed me. It made it known that I was loved, that she love me. And yet I couldn't help but feel as though it was that first day, that first time that she had calmed my sobs and tears. Only now I was crying for a different reason.

"Why don't we try a pacifier?" Mom asked, holding the thing up to my mouth. But I refused, turning my head to avoid the nipple as my sobs intensified, hitting full force as I lost myself in a storm of tears and snot.

And as mom kept soothing, kept cooing, kept trying to calm me down, her voice was drowned out by my own sorrow as everything around me seemed to melt away, leaving me barren and alone with only my own suffering to keep my company, with only my own tears to listen to me. And I cried. And I cried. And I cried. I cried harder than I ever had before.

The confusion of it all became fuel for the fire, the twisting and winding thoughts jostling about my head, pulling me in each and every direction. The scariness of letting go, the joy of being cared for. The idea of having a nursery, that fear, coupled with the pleasant dream of having one. It all jumbled together in my head, melting together like crayon wax, all those beautiful, clear colors turning to one ugly, confusing mess.

When the pacifier was teased against my lips a second time, I let it in, pulling the shield tight against my lips, suckling on it, working it as I breathed out, sighing, still shuddering as the last of my emotions trickled from my body. It was unknown how much time had passed, unknown how long I had cried. Only mom's drenched shirt and my own drenched onesie bore any indication of the duration of my fit.

"That's it, sweetheart," Mom cooed, her hand rubbing over my back, slow and soothing, comforting, "That's it, baby, you're ok."

It was the first words that had made it through to my mind. And as mom continued to coo, rocking and rubbing my back, my tears slowly dried up. Only the occasional sniffle sounded from my body as I cuddled against mom's chest, needing her, needing to know that she still loved me, that she still cared about me. Needing to know that everything was going to be ok.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mom asked, planting a kiss on my head, rubbing my back as she coaxed me from her chest. She used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe away the last of my tears, leaving only my red eyes and puffy face.

I nodded, thinking, letting all those thoughts flood through my brain, trying to wade through them, trying to figure out how I felt, trying to figure out where to start, how to explain. And hen that word was there again. That one word. Disappointed. That one word that burned so deep.

"Mommy?" I asked.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Are you mad at me?"

"No," Mom said, running her fingers through my hair as she held me close, kissing the top of my head. "I'm not mad at you sweetheart. Why would you think I was?"

"Because of what you said."

Mom seemed to stiffen at that, like her body was repulsed at the idea that she could have hurt me, that she could have said something to hurt me.

"What did I say?" Mom asked, her voice soft, worried.

"That you were disappointed in me."

Mom sighed, letting her breath go, letting her body sink back down. "That doesn't mean I'm mad at you, sweetheart."

I looked up at her, letting my face wrinkle in confusion, waiting for her to explain.

"I'm disappointed in what you did," Mom said, "That you broke the rules."

I sunk down at this, at the reminder that I had indeed acted out, that I had broken their trust.

"But again," Mom said, pulling me into a hug, "That doesn't mean I'm mad at you, sweetheart. It just means that you did something to upset me, but we all make mistakes, and we learn from those mistakes, right?"

"Ya," I mumbled, my voice muted and depressed.

"It's ok," Mom soothed, kissing me again, "It's ok to make mistakes, and while daddy and I might be mad in the moment, while we might seem angry with you, just remember that we will always love you no matter what, ok?"

I nodded, wiping a rogue tear from my face, feeling relieved and yet burdened at the same time. It was a relief to know that she wasn't made, to know that there was still hope at redemption. And yet it was a burden to know that they were still upset with me, that I was still in trouble for what I had done. But either way, it was a piece of the puzzle squared away and put in place. And now, now that I knew how she felt, it was time to tell her how I felt, it was time to tell her about my wanting to be a baby.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I had a dream."

"Ok," Mom said, her voice unsure, "And what was your dream about?"

"It was about being a baby."

Mom nodded. "And what about being a baby?" She asked, playing with my hair as she rocked.

"I was in my room." No. I paused, correcting myself. "I was in my nursery."

Mom seemed to jump at these words, her body seemed to freeze up. I knew what she was thinking about. I knew because I was thinking about it too. My room. Those gray walls and that changing table. It had been what started this whole thing, what had made me act out.

"And what were you doing in your nursery?"

"We," I said correcting her.

"And what were we doing in your nursery?"

I smiled, thinking back to that dream, thinking back to how loving and warm and peaceful it had been. How relaxing it had been. How much I had enjoyed that feeling, how much I craved that feeling, that closeness, that bond.

"It was morning and you were waking me up. You kept smiling as I laid there drinking from a bottle. And then you picked me up and carried me over to a rocking chair." I paused, thinking, remembering. I reached out and felt the padding on the chair we were sitting on now, taking in its soft comfort. "It was this same chair."

"Was it?"

"Ya," I said, nodding, "And then you sat down and cuddled with me. You held the bottle for me as I drank from it. And we just kept looking at each other. And you just kept smiling at me. And I just kept drinking. And you just kept smiling."

"That sounds like it was a good dream."

"It was," I said, my thoughts trailing off.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, baby?"

"I like being a baby," I said, "I like being your baby."

"And you know what?" Mom asked.

"What?"

"I like having you as my baby."

"Really?"

"Really."

I laid back against mom's chest, sinking into her as my heart pounded with joy, with that weight off my chest. It felt good to tell her how I felt. It felt good to hear her say those things, to hear her say that she enjoyed this as much as I did. But there was still that fear there, that creeping fear that made me worry, that made me scared.

"It's still scary," I said, still laying there against mom, keeping my ear to her heart, listening to the soothing thumping of it.

"What is?" mom asked, rubbing my back, tracing over my shoulder with her thumb.

"Being a baby."

"How so?"

I thought for a moment and then answered. "I feel like I'm going to forget myself. I feel like I'm going to forget how to be a big girl. That my big girl self is going to disappear and never come back."

"Is that why you took your diaper off? Because you were scared you were going to forget how to be a big girl.

I nodded, sitting back up in her lap, waiting.

"You know what else was scary at first?" Mom asked, stroking my cheek.

"What?"

"Wearing diapers."

I giggled at that. At how silly that was. "Diapers aren't scary," I laughed.

Mom laughed, joining my giggles. "But they were," She said, "Remember how you felt your first time going poopie?"

I nodded, thinking back to that first night, thinking back to how I had thrown my sippy cup on the floor, how I had had a tantrum right there in the kitchen. And then How I had cried in the bathroom, how hard I had fought to keep from soiling myself. It all seemed so silly now. Pooping was just pooping. There was nothing to it.

"Do you see what I mean?" Mom asked, pulling me from my thoughts. "And now diapers aren't scary anymore."

I nodded. But even with that understanding, there was still a pit in my stomach, a knot there, a little ball of fear that made the idea of having a nursery, of being a baby scary.

"Tell you what," Mom said, "Why don't you and I help daddy put your nursery together tomorrow. You and I can decorate and set things up while daddy moves all the heavy stuff for us."

I giggled again. "Daddy always moves the heavy stuff.

"Isn't that what daddies are for?" Mom asked, tickling my tummy, making me lean into her in a giggling squirming fit.

I nodded again. All those questions had been answered, all those fears had been dealt with. And yet there was still a hesitation, still the fear of the unknown, of what was to come. Like a dark room, even when one knows what's inside, the journey can be scary.

"I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too mommy."

"Now how about we go get some dinner in that little belly?"

I nodded, my stomach growling in agreement. And yet I didn't want to leave, didn't want this moment to end. And so I leaned back into mom, back into her chest to listen to her heart, letting her arms wrap around me and hold me close, letting her rock me and comfort me. Letting her baby me. "Can we stay here for a few more minutes?"

"We can stay here as long as you want, sweetheart."

[Sarah Penguin]

[D503]

Cute. A lot more challenges to go: relatives, friends, peer pressure, younger kids, boys, general public, long trips, beach, babysitters, child services. Who knows where we'll end up.

[SissyatHeart]

Chapter 11: Surprises

The. Next. Day.

The thudding had stopped some time ago. And now, my ears drew to the silence, yearning for a single sound, a single hint as to what dad was doing and when he would be done. For I knew what he was working on. I knew he was putting together my nursery. And yet, I couldn't help but let myself perk up with curiosity and excitement. The last time I had seen my room... my nursery... had been yesterday.

I grimaced, thinking back to the incident, back to my temper tantrum. Those few brief minutes had ruined weeks of trust, and yet, it had thrust our bonds closer than ever before. Somehow, in my darkest moment, I had actually found myself, had found acceptance in this whole thing. I had found what made me happy and realized that what I wanted wasn't actually what I thought I wanted. I had just refused to look at it, had refused to accept it for what it was. I wanted to be a baby. A part of me knew that from the very beginning. I had even admitted it to myself before. But it wasn't until now that I truly believed that. It wasn't until now that I accepted it.

"What are you thinking about, sweetheart?" Mom asked, looking up from her book. It was the same one she had been reading yesterday.

"My nursery," I said, glancing up at her, searching for a hint in her eyes, for some kind of answer of when dad would be done. I was growing antsier by the minute. That need to know, that need to see growing ever stronger, and I ever more impatient.

Mom nodded, sighing as she set her book off to the side. "I know, you want to go see it, don't you?"

I nodded, turning back to my dollhouse, trying to distract myself with the toys, something that wasn't working. There was too much to think about, too much to worry about. I couldn't let go, couldn't let myself enter that toddler headspace, that place where I was truly happy. Not with that feeling of excitement in my stomach, that tingling anxiousness radiating throughout my body. I needed mom. Needed her comfort. Needed her to play with me.

Mommy?" I asked, setting my dolls down. "Can you play with me?"

Mom smiled. "Ya, I can play," She said, moving to sit down next to me. "Who do I get to play with?"

I looked over the dolls laying about and picked the one I wanted mom to have. She was smaller than the others, her blonde hair and blue eyes staring up from where she laid. She reminded me of me. And that for some reason warranted mom having her, protecting her.

"This one," I said, handing her the doll.

"She's very pretty," Mom said, looking over the doll, and then she laughed, "Although I think she needs some clothes."

And indeed she did. Barbie was streaking about in her birthday suit, naked as the day she came into the world. I laughed too, giggling as I crawled around to the other side, looking for a couple of outfits. "That's because you have to dress her, mommy."

"Oh, do I?" Mom asked, her laughing turning to chuckles as she watched me play.

I nodded. "Ya, we're going to have a fashion show."

"A fashion show?" Mom asked, her voice feigning excitement and surprise, and yet there was something genuine there. Not excitement at playing Barbie, but a sense of joy at spending time with me. "That sounds like fun."

I giggled crawling back from the other side of the dollhouse, handing mom a series of outfits to choose from. And I grabbed my own doll, working to change her outfit, trying to get her ready for our upcoming show. There was so much to do in so little time. Our Barbies still needed to be dressed and have their hair combed out. And then there was the matter of photoshoots and interviews before the actual show happened. And then...

"Mommy, we need people to watch," I said, my eyes going wide with the realization. "And we don't have a stage."

"Well then," Mom said, setting her Barbie down, "I guess we'll have to do something about that, huh?"

I nodded, already clambering to my feet, searching for any other toys that we could use. My imagination was working at full speed now. That big girl mind that always got in the way, that always resisted having fun was shrinking away, letting my toddler self shine, letting the joy of childhood flow through my body. It felt good. It felt right. Playing felt right.

"Why don't we use a shoebox for a stage," Mom said, she herself standing up, smiling as I ran about the living room, collecting toys in my arms.

"Ok," I said, "But we need to hurry or we're going to be late."

Mom chuckled. "Alright, I'll hurry."

Minutes later the stage was set and the audience was waiting, hushed murmurs of conversation rang throughout the crowd, all were waiting, all were anticipating the show. After all, it was the best fashion show in all of ToyTopia, the land of all toys. Mom and I were backstage, doing the last minute prep and getting Casey and Cara ready for the show. They were nervous, but a pep talk from mom helped take the butterflies away. They were ready. And just in the nick of time. The lights in the room dimmed, the spotlights came on. It was showtime. The curtains parted, Casey went first. She walked confidently, sporting a cute blue dress and black purse. Her hat completed the outfit, taking it from good to stunning. She was a hit! And then her walk was over. It was time for Cara. She started to walk. Her own step showing...

"What are you two girls doing?"

"Daddy!" I dropped the Barbie doll, jumping to my feet and then again into dad's arms, letting him lift me up and plant a kiss on my cheek. Happy giggles escaped my lips. "We were playing."

"We were having a fashion show," Mom said, standing from where she had been sitting, "And it was Cara's turn to walk the stage."

"Well, tell her I'm sorry to have interrupted," Dad said, giving my bottom a pat before setting me back on my feet. "And you made poor Mr. Bear watch.

I giggled, looking over at the raggedy old thing. He had seen far worse in his lifetime. His missing eye was his battle scar to prove it. "He was the one who set it up."

"Oh, was he?" Dad asked, ruffling my hair.

"mmm-hmm," I nodded.

"Well, how about we go see what I just finished setting up," Dad said.

I gasped, my eyes going wide at his comment. "My nursery?"

Dad nodded.

"Mommy, can we go see it, can we go see it, please?" I begged, reaching up to mom, my eyes pleaded with her, my babyish tone playing at her emotions.

Mom nodded, and I was already halfway to the stairs, running through the house as fast as my legs could carry me, a fresh excitement coursing through my body. A mix of fear and anxiety, excitement and curiosity.

"Emily, slow down, sweetheart," Mom said, both her and dad following behind me, "You need to hold one of our hands going up the stairs.

"Ok," I said, waiting at the bottom of the stairs, the baby gate was still there, still teasing me with its infantile barrier. But I didn't care, all I could do was bounce with excitement as I waited, and as soon as dad was there I took his hand, letting him open the gate and lead me up the stairs. My excitement, that nauseous curiosity in my stomach, grew with each step as our footfalls echoed on the wood of the steps. And soon the echo of wood turned to the soft silence of carpet as we started down the hallway, coming closer to my room, to my nursery.

And suddenly that giddy excitement was gone. That bubbling happiness was gone. All that was left was a pit of anxiousness and fear in my stomach. A knot that twisted and tangled, contorting itself inside of me, twisting my emotions. I squeezed dad's hand tighter. What if I didn't like it? What if I wanted to be a big girl again? What if I missed my old bedroom. What if...

"You're ok, pumpkin," Dad whispered. He knelt down in front of me and opened his arms, welcoming me into his warm embrace.

"Daddy, I'm scared," I said, wrapping my arms around his neck. His arms closed around me, squeezing me, comforting me.

"I know, I know," He said, his voice still a whisper. He let up on the hug, rubbing my back as he kissed my forehead. "It's ok to be scared." There was a pause, a moment of silence before he spoke again. "Remember what mommy told you yesterday? Remember how she told you that all things are scary at first?"

I nodded. I did remember what she said. And she was right. Everything that had happened over this past month had been scary at first. It was a road paved with tears, and yet at the end, only happiness had ever come through. It was a pattern, one that I seemed destined to repeat. I always resisted, I always fought, I was always scared. And then I was happy. I had been wrong every time. Mom and dad had been right every time. And this time would be no different.

I let my eyes wander past dad, searching for mom, for her comforting encouragement. But she wasn't there. A slight panic started to swell inside of me. Where was she? Why wasn't she here. I let a whine escape my lips, pitiful and scared.

"Hey, what's the matter, pumpkin," Dad cooed, rubbing my back again.

"Where's mommy?" I asked, starting to squirm, starting to grow impatient, upset.

Dad chuckled a bit, caressing my head as he pulled me into another hug, holding me there as he kissed the top of my head, loving on me. "Mommy went to go grab something for you."

"What is it?"

"You'll see in a few minutes," Dad said, freeing me from his arms, "But right now why don't we go see your room?"

I nodded, turning to face the door, taking a deep breath as I braced myself for the whirlwind of emotions I was expecting to feel. "Daddy, will you hold my hand?"

"Of course, pumpkin."

With my hand in dad's, I stepped forward again, walking right up to my door, right up to the sign that now thing there. 'Emily's Nursery' It red in pink block letters. I smiled at the cute decoration, at having my own space again. It helped to ease my anxiousness as dad pushed the door open, giving way to what was once my bedroom.

I gasped, my eyes taking in every detail of the room as I stood there in shocked silence, admiring the beauty of the nursery. The gray walls contrasted beautifully with the mix of pink and white dotted around the room.

I gasped, my eyes taking in every detail of the room as I stood there in shocked silence, admiring the beauty of the nursery. The gray walls contrasted beautifully with the mix of white and pink dotted around the room. My crib was up against the far wall where my bed had once been. My name was hanging over the crib in pink letters and I could see my blanket and pillow through the bars of the crib. The familiarity of the crib let me breathe, let me relax as I took in more of the room. To the left of the crib on the interior wall where my dresser had once been was the changing table dad had been working on, my changing table. On top was the pink changing pad from mom and dad's room, yet another item of familiarity, something I was comfortable with. And then right across from me, nestled in the corner of the room, was mom's rocking chair.

It was all so different and yet so familiar. The crib, the changing table, the rocking chair. They were all so familiar, and yet, all of them being here in my room, in my nursery, gave them new meaning. I felt comfortable and calm, happy. It was very thing I had been worried about, the very think I had had a temper tantrum over. Something that seemed so silly now. None of those thoughts or feelings had been warranted. None of the fear and hesitation. None of that worry that I would forget who I was. Mom and dad had been right.

"Do you like it?" Mom asked.

I turned to see mom standing at the door, smiling as she looked down at me. "Mommy!" I squeaked, running to her, wrapping my arms around her as she knelt down to meet me.

"I'll take that as a yes then," Mom laughed.

I nodded. "It's pretty," I said, releasing her neck. It was then I noticed the package behind her. It's bright pink wrapping paper screaming for my attention. "What's that?" I asked pointing to the box.

"This," Mom said, reaching behind to grab the box, "Is a gift for you."

"For me?" I asked, gazing up at both mom and dad, making them both laugh with the question.

"Yes, pumpkin, for you," Dad said, following mom into the room as she set the box down in front of me. "I told you mommy had to go grab something."

"But it's not my birthday," I said, my eyes taking in the detail of the pink paper. It was clearly meant for a baby girl. Images of onesies and baby bottles and diapers were dotted across the paper.

"Consider it a baby shower gift," Mom said, pushing the box closer to me, both her and dad waiting for my fingers to tear through the wrapping paper. "It's just a little something to make this transition a little easier."

My heart fluttered and a smile crossed my face as I ran my hands over the smooth paper, searching for a crease. And as soon as my finger caught on one, I pulled on it. Ripping noises sounded through the room as I tore away the wrapping, my mind swimming with the imagination of a child on Christmas morning. Awe and excitement filling my body as I worked at the top of the box, pulling it off to reveal more paper inside. It too was pink. I went to pull it away and then stopped, looking up once more for encouragement.

"Go ahead, pumpkin," Dad said, "Open it."

And I did. I pulled the remaining paper away, revealing the gift beneath. Pastel pink radiated up from the box. I reached down to run my hand across the material, smiling as I did so. It was soft and fluffy like a kitten's fur, and my name was embroidered in the corner with a bright red heart. It was a blanket. A baby blanket. I pulled it from the box, squeezing it in my arms, letting the softness rub over my face. It was perfect. And it was mine.

"Keep going, sweetheart, there's something else in there," Mom said.

With heavy reluctance, I set the blanket down and reached back to the box, back to the second layer of pink paper. I pulled it away with ease and gasped at the sight, my heart skipping a beat as I squealed with joy. Snow white fur and ocean blue eyes stared up at me. Its black nose was dark as coal, its smile warm and inviting. A teddy bear. I pulled it too from the box, hugging it against my chest, rocking with it in my arms. It too was soft and the fur tickled my skin as I held it there.

"Do you like it?" Mom asked.

"Her," I said, already having decided. There were tears in my eyes. Tears of happiness and joy. "Her name is Bella, and I love her."

**********

I yawned, snuggling further into dad's side with a sigh as his hand rubbed over my back.

"You ready for bed, pumpkin?"

I shook my head, pointing towards the TV. "Just a few more minutes, please," I begged, holding the please for extra cuteness, hoping he would let me finish the rest of Paw Patrol.

He nodded. "Just until the show is over."

I smiled, turning back to watch the babyish show, probably enjoying it more than I should. I yawned again, rubbing my eyes, just a few more minutes, I could do it. But it seemed the more I told myself that, the more tired I got. My eyes felt so heavy. Felt like they were burning. I just needed to rest them for a second, that's all. A feeling of relief washing over me as I did, it felt so good, so relaxing. I sighed, letting my body sink further into his side, Bella cradled against my chest. The world around me seeming to grow farther and farther away as I drifted off, nearing sleep.

"Alright, I think I know a little girl who's ready for bed," Dad cooed, switching the TV off.

I jumped at his voice. "No daddy," I mumbled, feigning being awake. "Just a few more minutes, please. Just until the show is over," I begged, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"You already said that pumpkin," he said, standing up, "Besides, mommy's waiting for you upstairs."

"No, daddy please," I mumbled again, burying my head in the couch, "I'm not tired, really."

"Uh-huh, is that so," he said, lifting me onto his hip. "Because it looked to me like you were falling asleep," he continued, patting my diapered bottom. "And somebody needs a diaper change."

"Nu-um," I tried once more, wrapping my arms around his neck, taking in his smell as I laid my head against his shoulder, my thumb already nestled in my mouth. "Just like a baby," I thought. Then again, that's exactly what I was, a baby.

He chuckled, pulling my thumb from my mouth, "Do you want your paci, sweetheart?"

I nodded, letting him push the silicone nipple past my lips. "Definitely a baby," I thought, nursing the infantile thing, cuddling Bella as I closed my eyes again.

"Now what do you say we go and get your soggy bum off to bed?"

I nodded again, sighing around my pacifier as he carried me off to my nursery. My nursery. It still felt so weird to say. Finally, after a month of being treated as a toddler, I had a nursery. It was hard to believe that only a month ago it had been a regular bedroom, that I had been going to school, playing with friends, and, you know, just being a kid. And now here I am, a diaper-wearing toddler being carried off to her nursery. Something that should bother me.

It would bother anyone, right? Having your entire life uprooted. Being thrown back to babyhood, back to diapers.

But it doesn't bother me, it makes me happy, loved. Living every day as though I were truly a baby. It adds a certain security. A certain comfort. A certain innocence.

Even now, dad's strong, yet gentle hand patting my bottom, his other arm wrapped around me, holding me close as if I was a toddler. I was a toddler. His toddler. His precious little girl and he would never let anything happen to me. It made me feel warm inside, happy.

"Well hello there, sleepyhead," A new voice cooed, softer, more feminine.

"Mommy?" I asked, mumbling through the pacifier, opening my eyes as I was pulled from daddy's shoulder and into mommy's arms. And then, just like before, my head nuzzled into her neck, my head resting on her shoulder, her hand rubbing my back as she cooed, bouncing slightly.

"Yes baby, mommy's here," she whispered soothingly, carrying me over to the rocking chair.

She sat down, still holding me tight as she hummed, playing with my hair as she rocked. As she rocked, I closed my eyes again, sighing around my pacifier as I melted into her arms. Just enjoying the moment, enjoying the comfort and warmth she brought. The safety and security. She was my mommy and I was her baby. And I never wanted that to change.

"I love you so so much, sweetheart," she cooed, rubbing my back.

"I love you too, mommy," I mumbled around the pacifier, "I love you lots."

We stayed like that for the next few minutes. Mommy and baby, cuddled up together on the rocking chair. My eyes growing ever heavier as her rocking lulled me to sleep.

"You ready to get your jammies on, sweetheart?" She asked, patting my diaper.

I nodded, slipping back from the edge of sleep, opening my eyes as I lifted my head from her shoulder, my arms still wrapped tightly around her neck.

"You're such a cutie," She smiled, kissing my forehead, "Mommy's precious baby girl."

I giggled, half asleep, as she stood up, carrying me over to the changing table. She sat me down on the soft pad, pulling my shirt off before laying me down. I hugged Bella to my chest and focused on my pacifier as mom pulled my leggings off, leaving me in just my wet diaper.

She pulled out a fresh diaper and popped open the container of wipes. The tapes of my diaper were ripped open and I shivered, the cold overtaking where it had been warm moments before.

"Mommy's got a surprise for you tonight, sweetheart," she cooed, wiping my front side off, "Something a little different than your baba."

I pulled my pacifier out. "Another surprise? What is it?"

She smiled at me, grabbing a new wipe. "Mommy wants to try breastfeeding you tonight."

My legs were lifted off the pad, the wipe running over my bottom. "Breastfeeding?" I asked, my face scrunching.

She chuckled at my response. "Yes, sweetheart, breastfeeding."

My legs were lowered back down onto the fresh diaper. "Like, from those?" I asked, pointing at her chest.

She chuckled again, powdering my diaper area. "That's right, sweetheart, from mommy's breast. That's why it's called breastfeeding."

I shook my head as the diaper was taped up. "I don't know, it seems yucky."

She pulled me into a sitting position. "Breastfeeding isn't yucky, silly," she said, bopping my nose. "It's just like nursing your baba, only mommy's the baba now."

"No, it isn't," I said, giggling, as she carried me over to the closet. "I don't like it."

"You haven't even tried it, sweetheart," she said, grabbing a sleeper from the dresser. "You never know, you might find it's really really yummy."

"Really?" I asked as she sat me down on the floor, guiding my legs into the sleeper. "Is it really yummy?"

"It is. When you were a baby, I couldn't keep you off them." She said, tickling my belly.

My face turned red as I kicked and squirmed under her assault. "Mommy... Mommy, stop it... I... I can't breathe." I laughed, gasping for air. Her assault eventually ended and after taking a moment to catch my breath, I looked up at her, pausing for a moment before answering, thinking. "Ok... I'll try it."

"Perfect," she said with a smile, sliding my arms into the sleeper before zipping it up. "Don't worry, sweetheart, mommy promises you'll like it."

I nodded, letting her pick me up, carrying me back over to the rocking chair where she sat down, coaxing me to lay back. Cradling me in her arms just like a baby, my butt nestled between her legs with my head cradled in the crook of her arm. I melted into her arms as she tucked a blanket around me, relaxing even further as I waited for her instruction. Enjoying being pampered, being babied. It was part of my bedtime routine. I was always bottle-fed before bed. A warm bottle of formula to help me sleep. It made sure I awoke the next morning with a wet diaper. Something meant to make me feel like a baby. And it did. That feeling of helplessness every morning, waiting for mommy or daddy to come and get me, to check my diaper, to change me, like some helpless toddler. But that was the point. I wasn't a big girl anymore; I was a baby girl. Mommy and daddy's baby girl. And they made sure I knew that.

"Alright, sweetheart, are you ready?" She asked, running her fingers through my hair, brushing it from my face.

I nodded, watching as she pulled the side of her bathrobe away, revealing her naked breast. I squirmed at the sight, unsure of what to make of it as she pulled me closer. It looked so big, so swollen, almost like it was full. Her pink nipple standing erect as though it were waiting for something, for someone. It reminded me of the nipple on my baba. A thought that brought me comfort.

"It's just like your baba sweetie," she said, taking hold of her breast. "Just open your mouth and when mommy tells you to, latch on. That's all you have to do; mommy will take care of the rest."

"Mommy wait!" I begged, turning my head to avoid the nipple. It was all happening so fast, so soon. I needed more time to think. "I... I don't know if I want to."

"Shh, it's alright, sweetheart, just relax, let mommy take care of you," she cooed, rocking me, soothing me as though I was just a little baby.

I turned my head back towards her, looking up with an infant's fascination, that look of wonder and expectation. Expectation that she would take care of me, soothe me. I felt so little, so helpless in her arms. I felt like a baby.

"Just relax, sweetheart," she cooed, smiling down at me.

So, I did.

I relaxed, falling victim to my heavy eyes once again as she rocked, lulling me to sleep as she hummed, singing me nursery rhymes. My eyes never leaving her nipple. I was so fascinated by it. It was so hypnotic. I closed my eyes for just a moment. I just needed to rest them.

"That's it, just relax, sweetheart."

I felt something warm and soft touch my lips, teasing back and forth as though it were begging to be let in. I opened my eyes, groggy with sleep. Her nipple was inches from my lips. I tried again to turn my head away, but she kept me firmly cradled in her lap. Just like a baby, so little, so helpless.

"It's alright, sweetheart, just relax, open your mouth."

So, I did.

I parted my lips just slightly, letting just the nub fill my mouth. Out of instinct, I took a tentative suckle before pulling back, my eyes going wide as a jet of milk streamed over my tongue, filling my taste buds. It tasted similar to formula: thick, sweet, and creamy. Only it was richer, tasted sweeter, creamier. It soothed my throat as it trickled down into my stomach, warming my insides. It triggered something primitive inside me, something subconscious. My eyes narrowed, focused on only one thing, nursing, the world around me seeming to disappear as though it never existed. I opened my mouth again, letting her slip her nipple in, clamping down with a proper latch. I suckled again, sinking into her arms as my body went limp. I was nursing. Nursing at my mother's breast like an infant.

"That's a good girl," she cooed, patting my bottom, "such a good baby."

My eyes drifted up past her breast, meeting with hers. She smiled down at me. Her eyes sparkling with motherly love, with pride and joy. The moment seemed so surreal. So impossible. A month ago, I would have been texting my friends, talking about some cute boy. And now, now I was laying cradled in my mother's lap, her hand patting my diapered bottom as I nursed from her breast.

Just yesterday I had yelled and screamed and broken their trust. Just the other day I had fought against the idea of losing my big girl self, of falling into the mindset of a toddler. I had thought I didn't want it. I had thought that I wanted to grow up again, that I wanted to be a big girl again. And now, I knew that wasn't the case. I knew what I wanted. And I wanted to be a baby. I wanted to be a toddler. I wanted to be loved and cared for. I wanted ever need and want to be taken care of. I wanted this. I wanted this feeling.

And so, as I laid there nursing, I let myself forget all that had happened. I let myself forget who I had been. I let myself leave that big girl behind and become a toddler. I had finally made up my mind. And I was never going to look back.

[Sarah Penguin]

[aldl4811]

So sweet!

[SissyatHeart]

Chapter 12: A New Day

 

Four. Months. Later.

My eyes fluttered open and a smile crossed my face as I stretched out in the crib, suckling my pacifier as the sun coaxed me awake. The morning air had become brisk and the days ever colder as it crept towards winter. And yet, laying here in my crib, all snuggled up under my baby blanket and zipped into my footed sleeper, I felt warm and cozy. The combination of the two kept away the harsh bite of the cold.

Letting out a soft sigh, I rolled over onto my side and shuffled about for a moment, making myself more comfortable as my body sank back into the mattress beneath me, relaxing, taking in the silence, the peaceful calm that came with being awake early. That deafening silence that radiated through the house. All was perfect. Everything except for one thing. And she was staring right back at me. Her blue eyes and soft smile, all highlighted by her fluffy white fur. Bella. I had lost her from my arms overnight, but that was alright. Just like myself, she was kept safe and secure by the bars of the crib. Never straying far from my side. I smiled as I reached out for her, pulling her back to my chest, tucking her back under the blanket where she belonged, cuddled against my chest with her soft fur tickling my face. Now everything was perfect. I closed my eyes, breathing easy. Just relaxing. Not thinking. Not moving. Not worrying.

That was until I noticed the smell. That slight familiar stench. A mix of baby powder and poop. A messy diaper. I grimaced, feeling the sticky mess stuck against my bottom, its warm mushiness held tight against my skin by my soggy diaper. But it wasn't uncomfortable. It wasn't bothering me. If anything, it felt good. Not in a physical way, but rather an emotional one. It felt good to know that I didn't need to worry, felt good to know that mom would be in soon to get me from my crib, that she would change my messy diaper and take all the ickiness away. It was a comforting feeling. A peaceful feeling. And so, I pushed the thought from my mind and let my eyes drift aimlessly about the nursery as my mind wandered, relaxing back into the mattress to wait for mom.

The only problem was that she didn't come. In all that waiting, not a single sound had come from the house, not a single hint of movement or life broke through the silence. It felt as though I waited for hours, stuck alone in my crib with my soiled diaper taped around me. The smell, the feel, hadn't been bothering me all that much before, but the longer I seemed to wait, the more I seemed to notice both. The smell was lingering in the air now, filling up the empty space around me, seeming to take up the entire room. And the warm mush caked against my bottom was starting to burn and irritate my skin, making me squirm and fidget in the crib. I felt uncomfortable. I felt alone. I felt helpless. And as those feelings sank in, I began to fuss and whimper. I wanted to be clean again. I wanted a fresh diaper. I wanted to be changed. I wanted my mommy.

And so with tears in my eyes, I crawled out from under the security of my blanket and pulled myself up to the crib edge, still cradling Bella in one arm as I steadied myself against the crib rail with the other. I was done waiting. I wanted to be changed. And I wanted to be changed now.

"Mommy!" I called, dropping the pacifier from my mouth as my tiny voice broke through the icy silence of the morning. "Mommy!"

I kept calling. Kept waiting. Kept standing there. The chill of the morning air finally fighting its way through my sleeper, creeping inside and adding to my already uncomfortable state. Those tears kept building, blurring my vision.

"Mommy!" I called again, louder this time, more desperate, letting my fussiness and frustration out as I yelled. I felt so alone. So cold. So uncomfortable. Those tears were spilling over now, running down my cheeks in streams. I was crying, sobbing. "Mommy... Please..."

And still, I waited longer, crying harder and harder as I shook the rail, fussing and yelling and whimpering as I stood there. And then, just when I was about to give up, just when I thought no one was coming, the door creaked open and my eyes snapped to the figure slipping inside. His tired eyes meeting my tear-streaked face.

"Daddy?!" I squeaked through my sobs, my voice a mixture of surprise and relief. Surprise that it was him and not mom. Relief that he was here to take care of me. But why wasn't he at work? What was he doing home?

"What's the matter, pumpkin?" Dad asked, rubbing his eyes as he stood in the door. "Why are you so sad this morning? And more importantly, why so early?" He asked, chuckling as he started towards me.

My pitiful whines and whimpering continued as he stepped over to the crib. "Diaper," I said, this time more pitiful than the last as I grabbed for his shirt, clinging to him, asking, no, demanding to be picked up.

"Ya?" Dad asked, pulling me into a hug as he kissed the top of my head. "It's because you've got a stinky diaper, huh?"

I nodded, still whimpering as I made grabby hands, fussing as I waited for him to pull me from the crib.

"Ok, ok," Dad cooed, finally pulling me into his arms and settling me on his hip. "There, is that better?" He asked, rubbing my back.

"Uh-huh," I said, suckling my thumb as I leaned into his shoulder, taking comfort in his presence, happy to be in his arms.

He gave my bottom a knowing pat and then asked, "What do you say we get your diaper changed?"

Again, I nodded, still suckling my thumb as dad carried me over to the changing table. His bouncing was squishing the mess further across my bottom, spreading it out over my diaper area, but I didn't care, in a few minutes, I would be in a fresh diaper.

Dad chuckled as he laid me back on the soft changing pad. "You know mommy doesn't like it when you suck your thumb," He said, pulling the digit from my mouth. "Let's try your paci instead."

I didn't fight or argue with him as he coaxed the pacifier into my mouth, but rather suckled it like a good baby as I hugged Bella, letting dad take control of the diaper change. Letting him be the parent and letting myself be the baby. The way it was mean to be.

And in seconds, the button holding the sleeper's zipper in place was popped open and my skin prickled with goosebumps as the zipper was pulled down, exposing my body to the world, making me squirm and shiver at the sudden change.

"I know, I know," Dad said, pulling my feet from the sleeper, rubbing my belly to settle me down as he hiked the infantile garment up and away from the changing area, leaving my dirty diaper exposed. "Just work with me for another few minutes and then we can get your jammies back on, ok pumpkin?"

I nodded, still squirming in the cold as dad reached for the tapes of my diaper. I could feel his fingers pressing against me, and moments later the soft sound of velcro ripping and the strong stench of a messy diaper filled the air.

"Phew," Dad said, chuckling, waving his hand in front of his nose. "You left daddy a big present this morning, didn't you?"

I giggled from behind the pacifier, finding his scrunched nose and wrinkled face funny as he gathered my ankles in one hand.

"Well, at least one of us finds it funny," Dad said, sticking his tongue out, teasing me, making me giggle more as he pushed my knees to my chest and exposed my bottom to the world. He used the front of the diaper to wipe off most of my bottom in one go before pulling the soiled thing out from under me. My ankles were still held in the air, and moments later the damp feel of a wet wipe followed as dad worked to wipe the rest of the sticky mess from my bottom, making sure my bottom was clean before laying me back down. A second wet wipe was used to wipe down my front side.

"There we go," Dad said, pulling a fresh diaper from the drawer. "Now all we need to do is get a diaper back on your bottom."

I giggled again, watching as dad fanned the diaper out. I hadn't even noticed my shift in attitude. I hadn't noticed my tears and fussiness turning to happy little giggles. But that was ok. It was ok to be upset one minute and happy the next. That was how a toddler expressed their emotions. And I was a toddler. Besides, there was a sense of calm that came with having your diaper changed. A sense of love. It was hard to explain, but there was a certain happiness that came with the knowledge that your parent was was taking care of your most intimate need. Being changed made me feel loved. Made me feel special.

"What are you thinking about?" Dad asked, lifting my bottom once more to slide the fresh diaper underneath my bottom.

I looked up at him smiling and kicking playfully as he reached for the baby powder, doing his best to hold me in place long enough to get a diaper back on me.

"Hey, hey," Dad said, laughing, reaching for my exposed belly, "Don't make me tickle you."

I knew he wasn't joking, and so I settled down, still giggling as he smoothed a fresh dusting of powder into my diaper area. The soft, powder felt good against my skin and its infantile smell helped to cover up the icky smell from my messy diaper, leaving both me and the room smelling fresh and clean. Just like a baby.

And with my diaper area all powdered up, dad pulled the diaper up between my legs and taped it snug against my tummy with a practiced hand. The warmth and snug bulk of the soft padding between my legs felt good. It felt comforting. It felt safe. It always did. And as dad slid my feet back into the sleeper and zipped it back up my body, buttoning it against my chest once again, the morning affair was over. I had gotten what I had wanted. A diaper change. And I was all the happier because of it.

"Now, what do you say we go and snuggle with mommy for a bit?" Dad asked, lifting me back into his arms. He gave my freshly diapered bottom a few pats as he settled me back on his hip, bouncing me as he had before.

I nodded, still suckling my pacifier, still holding onto Bella as I leaned into dad, taking in his loving warmth as he carried me from the nursery. And then I had another thought, another feeling. A soft, aching pain inside my stomach. Hunger. And my thoughts shifted to mom. To her warm milk. To nursing.

[Josh23]

Love this story

[Sarah Penguin]

What if Santa flew moose threw the air to delivever presents instead of training reindeer?

[SissyatHeart]

13 hours ago, Sarah Penguin said:

What if Santa flew moose threw the air to delivever presents instead of training reindeer?

I'm not even sure how to respond to this, lol. Made my day. But in all seriousness, why not Polar Bears?

[Sarah Penguin]

2 hours ago, SissyatHeart said:

I'm not even sure how to respond to this, lol. Made my day. But in all seriousness, why not Polar Bears?

Because Polar Bears are Santa Elves I think making toys and double checking the lists

[Thad]

@SissyatHeart, I hope the next chapter is going well for you and you don't have writers block.

[Babyregressme]

Next chapter?

[Babytom948]

10 hours ago, Babyregressme said:

Next chapter?

Dead story,don't bump these

[keith60]

i want that to happen to me but it won't !

😒