I have a huge soft spot for girls who still wet the bed.
They can be so adult, so confident and mature in the daytime– I love that–
Independent, super sharp, creative, big girl job, grownup friends–
but every evening, without fail, it starts getting closer to her bedtime, and a little voice in her head tells her: she should probably hold off on drinking more water...
and she really needs to say goodnight early to her friends, make up some excuse why she can't stay over– she's no fun overnight anyway, she prefers sleeping in her own bed...
because waiting for her back home, like always, is a bed with a very special crinkly mattress,
in a bedroom that, no matter how old she's gotten, has always smelled a tiny bit like a nursery,
and a dresser where, stuffed behind heaps of old clothes she used to wear,
she hides her most embarrassing, crinkly secret,
something she never quite grew out of needing since she was little,
and she would die if any of her friends found out...
And, waddling over to the bathroom to brush her teeth, all those little, embarrassing feelings come rushing back,
how small and helpless she feels because she still can't stay dry,
how the doctors all said she'd "grow out of it," but, of course, she never did,
and how she's always needed someone to protect and take care of her,
as she falls asleep in her thick, crinkly overnight diapers, designed for "big girl" accidents,
(she flunked out of pull-ups years ago)
fast asleep, a little drool escaping onto her pillow,
because, once she's asleep, she doesn't get to play pretend anymore.
She's still just a little baby
who gets to wake up with a little, dazed flutter every morning when she realizes:
her diaper is soaked again,
(no-one's surprised but her),
and she still can't make it to the big girl potty at nighttime.
You're gonna sleep nice and sound, sweetheart.
Nobody expects you to stay dry at night, okay baby?
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