Of all the reasons to cry like the toddler she is, this is by far the most adorable.
A normal woman her age would cry about all the things she’s lost. Most adults don’t willingly give up every freedom and privilege that comes with adulthood.
And she has lost plenty of privileges over the years.
But she’s not crying because she has the potty training of a newborn. She doesn’t mind that she’ll helplessly fill every diaper I tape on her—or that she’ll never go a day without diapers again.
She’s not crying because her wardrobe can only be described as “Daycare Chic.” She enthusiastically traded her big girl clothes for onesies, frilly tutus, and an ever-growing collection of Bluey-branded outfits.
She’s not crying because everyone treats her like the overgrown toddler she is. She’s proud of her pamper packer status.
She’s not crying because her princess parts will never play outside of her thick, soggy diapers. A wet diaper and a cuddly stuffie are all the stimulation she needs.
She’s not even crying because she’s being sent to bed at 7:30–before the sun has even set. She’s exhausted from an eventful day of diaper changes, naps, and cartoons.
No, she’s not crying for any of the reasons you’d expect from an adult without any traces of adulthood.
She loves her new life. She belongs in her thick pampers, being talked down to by her former peers.
Which brings us to this adorable little tantrum.
My little cutie lost her favorite paci!
Well, not so much lost as destroyed. Our dog decided to take the paci for a test drive.
Poor baby. Her favorite binky gone too soon.
Now she’s overwhelmed without it to soothe her. And, of course, the pile of binkies on her bed just aren’t the same!
She only wants THAT binky!
It might sound trivial to an adult, but it should be clear that she’s not an adult.
For someone like her—with the emotional range of a toddler—it might as well be the end of the world. She’s not acting, either.
This is who she is.
Right now, she’s working through some “big feelings” over losing her binky with the only tool available to her.
Crying.
Whatever “big girl” faculties she once had are long gone. Neatly packaged away in a tiny box, stored in the deepest pit of her psyche. Or maybe she lost them the same way she lost her potty training—years of disuse.
I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter in the end.
All I know is that the advice in books for parents raising toddlers is the same as how to help the overwhelmed girl in front of me.
When she calms down, we’ll work through all her big feelings together. I’ll model proper emotional regulation for her while she tells me about her big feelings.
I’ll acknowledge and validate them, too. “It’s okay to be upset, honey. It’s not easy losing the things we love, is it?”
Then I'll pick up my sobbing babygirl and rest her in my arms, rocking her gently, assuring her that Daddy will always be here for her. Nothing calms her down faster than a loving embrace in my arms.
I am her safe space, after all.
After that, I’ll do my best to distract her from this Paci-Gate scandal.
It shouldn’t be too difficult—her attention span is about as advanced as her potty control. Plus, if I know anything about her, she’ll never turn down a baba of “chokkie milk.”
She’ll be asleep before she finishes her baba.
Like clockwork.
But unlike parents raising a tantruming toddler, my little one will never grow up.
No matter how often we practice regulating our “big feelings,” the lesson will never truly sink in.
This story was written with, by, and features the super-talented and undeniably adorable @littledreambunny! She wrote the parts from the little's perspective, and I wrote the parts from Dada's perspective. Since it's it swaps perspectives, Dada's parts start in blue and Bunny's in pink.
I catch myself glancing over to the empty passenger seat for the fourth time in five minutes, a habit that suddenly feels all wrong.
At the next stoplight, I pulled out my phone and googled it: the opposite of deja vu is jamais vu—that eerie sense of unfamiliarity for something that should be second nature.
Which makes sense. We’re driving down the same street, to the same park, to meet the same friends for a picnic we’ve had in the same spot countless times.
Yet nothing about this drive feels familiar—though I guess the cause of the unfamiliarity isn’t really a mystery.
After all, there is a perfectly understandable reason why Jenny, my longtime girlfriend, is buckled safely in the backseat instead of riding shotgun as my passenger princess.
That seat is for adults—a term that no longer describes the girl I see in my rear view mirror, nervously twisting the hem of her sundress, constantly checking if it hides the thick diaper underneath.
She's nervous because today is the first time we’re going out in public, not as boyfriend and girlfriend, but as Dada and his little Bunny.
So maybe this isn’t jamais vu.
Though the scene is undoubtedly unfamiliar—at least for now—I’m sure it won’t be long before it’s our new normal.
My bigger concern is getting her through today with minimal tantrums and meltdowns. Much easier said than done when it comes to changes like this.
Big changes lead to big feelings. And big feelings lead to tantrums if I’m not careful.
Not that I would blame her if she did, of course. Not today. Not when it’s the first time seeing all her old friends in her new status. I know it won’t be easy for her going from their equal to…well, their adorable little friend.
Her friends would never tease her–quite the opposite! They’ve been texting me like crazy, asking me about her, for pictures, and if they can bring her any presents. Since littles don’t need phones, it’s much harder for them to reach her.
Needless to say, they’re excited about the picnic.
It hasn’t been easy putting this together. Until today, Jenny was the one who planned the picnics, assigned tasks, and organized the charcuterie boards.
How were we supposed to plan our most important picnic ever when the most important person for planning was busy watching Bluey in increasingly soggy diapers?
We did manage to get some age-appropriate games and snacks for her, so she should be plenty entertained.
Though, the closer we get to the park, her fidgeting has noticeably increased…
“Are you excited to see your friends, honey? You’re looking like a squirmy squirrel back there!”
Dada’s voice floats back, warm and teasing. He calls me his squirmy squirrel again, and my cheeks flare hot right away. The kind of hot that spreads fast, like someone turned a spotlight just on my face.
I duck my head lower, trying to hide. Knees squeeze together tight. That only presses the soggy diapie harder against me. A loud crinkle-crinkle bounces around the car.
I freeze. Did he hear? Does it sound as huge to him as it does to me?
The engine is quiet now. The car has stopped. Outside the window everything looks the same as always, big shady tree, picnic blanket already down, my friends laughing and waving like it’s just another day. But it’s not.
My heart thumps hard and fast in my chest, so loud I’m scared Dada can hear it too. My tummy flips over and over, twisty and fluttery, like there are butterflies trying to get out.
I can’t do this. I really can’t.
“Nu-uh…nuh-uh…not ready yet, Dada…” My voice comes out so small, barely louder than a whisper. “My dress is too short…it doesn’t cover my diapie at all…and it’s all full and squishy…every time I move it makes noise…they’re gonna hear it…they’re gonna see…”
My fingers grab the hem of the dress. Twist. Pull down hard. The crinkles get louder, sharp and plasticky, like they’re laughing at how hard I’m trying to hide.
I squeeze my legs again, harder this time. The padding squishes back, warm and heavy. I can feel how soggy it got on the drive. How it sags just a tiny bit with every shift.
My face burns hotter. I want to curl up small and disappear under the seat.
The driver’s door opens. Gravel crunches under Dada’s shoes. My breath catches in my throat.
The back door swings wide. Sunlight rushes in, bright and warm across my face and arms. Dada crouches down right in front of me, so close I can smell his soap and feel the calm that always comes with him.
He speaks softly, something about not needing to be nervous, about how no one will tease me, about how he’s got me no matter what. His big hand slides under my chin, gentle, tilting my face up so I have to look at him.
I do. Slowly. His eyes are steady and kind and full of pride. Like being little is the best thing in the world. Like I’m perfect exactly like this, dress too short and diapie showing and all. My eyes sting a little. The scary knot inside my chest loosens, just enough to breathe again.
“O-okay…Dada…” The words shake. Tiny. “Pwease… hold my hand super duper tight? And… don’t let go? Even if I get all fidgety and silly?”
He nods, smile soft. “Always, Bunny. I even brought Sir Hops-a-Lot along, the brave wallaby ready to protect his princess. Now, take a deep breath for me…good girl! C’mon, we don’t want to keep our friends waiting.”
Dada reaches in to unbuckle me. His fingers brush my tummy, warm, careful and then he’s helping me slide out of the car. My sneakers touch the ground.
The diapie squishes loud and heavy right away. The dress rides up in the back. I yank it down fast with both hands, cheeks on fire again.
His hand is already waiting. Open. Big. Warm.
I slip my smaller hand into his. He squeezes once, firm and sure, like a promise I can hold onto. I reach back for the blanket, hug it tight against my front like armor. We start walking.
Squish. Crinkle. Squish. Crinkle. Every step.
The padding shifts and presses. Sags a tiny bit more. I tug the hem down again and again. It never feels long enough.
The blanket gets closer. My friends look up. Big smiles. They pat the spot right in the middle. One of them calls my name, happy, excited, like they’ve been waiting just for me.
I glance up at Dada. Eyes wide. Pleading.
The juxtaposition between the casual, relaxed smiles of our friends and the nervous, pleading eyes of my little Bunny is jarring. As easy as it would be to dismiss it as a necessary part of her new life, I can’t.
Not when her needy gaze calls me to action, begging me for the assurance she so desperately needs right now. For a fleeting moment, I can see both worlds in her eyes, the remnants of the big girl she’s leaving behind and the innocent, neediness of the little she’s becoming.
As we reach the edge of the blanket, I pull her close to me, hoping the closeness wordlessly conveys she’s safe with Dada–as long as she has me, everything will be okay.
Even if it’s scary.
“There she is!” Kate bubbled, waving at Jenny.
Emily shifts to make room for Jenny, patting the spot between her and Kate, beckoning their friend to sit down. “Hi sweetie! Come sit with us!”
On the other side of the blanket, Anna smiles quietly, taking in Jenny’s outfit. Caleb offers that same, laidback grin he’s known for, as he leans back on his elbows, relaxed. Toby fumbles with a bag of gummy bears before awkwardly thrusting it at Jenny.
“That outfit is so stinking cute!” Lisa beamed.
They all smile expectantly at Jenny. Not staring. Not judging.
As if they’re seeing something brand new yet strangely familiar at the same time.
I give Jenny another squeeze. Even as a big girl Jenny rarely enjoyed being the center of attention–and today, she’s the star of the show.
“Hey, everyone!” I add, hoping to give Jenny a moment to compose herself. Her hand still clings to mine, slick with sweat.
My hand is still tucked inside Dada’s, fingers damp and clinging. The diaper beneath the sundress feels impossibly present, warm, heavy, sagging just enough that every breath reminds me it’s there.
The hem of the dress brushes my thighs, too short, too thin, offering no real cover. A soft crinkle escapes when I shift my weight. Tiny. But in my ears it booms.
Heat rises again, slow and relentless. It starts behind my ears, creeps along my jaw, floods my cheeks until they feel like ripe summer peaches left too long in the sun. I duck my chin, trying to hide the flush, but it only makes the blush feel bigger, brighter, more impossible to conceal.
I was the one who used to double-check the weather, who made sure the charcuterie board had balance and color and texture.
I was the one they asked for advice, for plans, for the next step.
Now I’m standing here with my hand in Dada’s like a child crossing a busy street.
Now my dress is too short and my padding is too full and my legs won’t quite straighten the way they used to.
Now the clever, capable Jenny feels like a coat I’ve outgrown, still hanging in the closet, still mine, but no longer the one I reach for first.
The thought twists in my chest. Sharp. Sweet. Embarrassing.
A little thrilling.
I swallow. Clear my throat. Try to summon that old voice.
“H-hi,” I squeak, finding my voice, “We should… move the fruit to the shady side.”
The words come out softer than I mean them to, higher, almost questioning.
“And maybe start with Uno? It’s quick…and everyone likes it…”
They don’t laugh. They don’t correct me. Kate just nods slowly, smiling gently.
I do my best to stifle a laugh. Big or little, Jenny can’t resist giving advice about the optimal picnic setup.
“Hmm, that’s a good point, Jenny,” Kate answers, “But look, we’ve already got everything set up. Come sit?”
She pats the blanket again, the motion small, inviting.
I gently nudge Jenny forward. “Go sit with Kate, Bunny,” I whisper to her, “Besides, you don’t need to worry about all that boring planning anymore. Leave that to the big girls.”
Jenny shoots me a look somehow both mutinous and needy. Not that I blame her, but the point remains.
Littles don’t plan events or give orders to adults.
Emily reaches over without a word and places the box of animal crackers in front of the spot they’ve saved.
Anna shuffles the Uno cards with practiced ease. “Ready when you are,” she says softly.
It’s hard not to feel sentimental at a moment like this. Here, at the crossroads between two worlds, hearing our friends talk to her like the Little she is, supporting her choice to go back to babyhood.
From here, the gulf between the women they will become and the little Jenny is becoming will become an expanse. Unlike her friends, Jenny will never become a doctor, lawyer, or teacher. She’ll never get married, have children, or buy a house.
No, Jenny’s path is painted in pastels.
She’ll be my Bunny, my babygirl. Her days will be spent in the crinkly embrace of diapers, nap times, and being rocked to sleep on my lap.
Yet, one thing I know for sure is they’ll be her friend throughout it all.
I glance at Dada. His eyes hold mine, steady, warm, brimming with something that looks like pride and something softer, familiar, like the first light after a long night.
His thumb traces one slow arc across my knuckles.
The touch loosens something inside me. Not all the knots. Just one. Enough to let me take a step forward.
I lower myself carefully. Knees together. Dress smoothed as best I can. The padding compresses beneath me. A muffled squish. Warm. Heavy.
I freeze for a heartbeat, waiting for the sound to echo, for someone to notice.
No one does. Or if they do, they don’t show it.
Anna deals the first card. Caleb makes a joke about drawing four. Lisa passes me the juice box.
“Don’t drink it too fast,” Lisa suggests quietly.
Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I take a sip. The sweet-tart bursts on my tongue. The cracker crunches between my teeth. The cards slide across the blanket. Laughter ripples around me.
Dada’s knee brushes my back, warm, solid, present.
The old Jenny, the one who used to direct traffic and keep score, feels thinner now. Like a shadow stretching long at dusk. Still there. Still me.
But fading softly in the golden light.
And in her place, something smaller begins to stir. Quiet. Warm. Blushy. Safe.
I match a red card. Smile shyly when Anna cheers. Tug the hem of my dress one more time, a habit, useless, sweet.
The butterflies in my tummy slow their frantic wings.
The living room glowed with soft morning sunlight filtering through the curtains.
She sat cross-legged on the fluffy rug right in front of the television, wearing her favorite Sesame Street pajamas. The long-sleeve shirt had a big smiling Elmo on the front, and the cozy bottoms were covered in the colourful characters.
The soft fabric was comfy and babyish, and the pj bottoms did nothing to hide the obvious padded bulk of her diaper underneath.
Her eyes were wide and sparkling as she watched Sesame Street. Big Bird was teaching Elmo and Abby Cadabby how to share toys in the most cheerful way possible. The bright colors and happy music filled the room.
She suckled steadily on her warm morning baba, the sweet milk tasting so comforting as she rocked gently side to side. The bottle was almost empty.
Every now and then she let out a tiny, contented hum around the nipple, completely lost in the bright puppets and silly songs.
Elmo’s so silly today, and Big Bird’s feathers look extra fluffy. Everything feels so nice and warm and safe… she thought dreamily.
In the background, Daddy hummed while washing dishes after breakfast. The clink of plates and running water mixed softly with the cartoon music.
She barely noticed. She was too busy finishing her baba, too happy sitting right here in her favourite little spot with her blankie draped over her lap.
With one last big suckle, the bottle emptied. She set it down carefully beside her and popped her paci into her mouth instead, clutching her blankie tighter against her chest. The soft fabric brushed her cheek as she bounced lightly to the next song, eyes never leaving the screen.
A funny, warm pressure started growing in her tummy.
She shifted a little, but her eyes never left the screen.
Elmo was laughing now, and Abby was flying around with sparkles. It made her giggle behind her paci.
But that familiar pressure only stayed there in her tummy, threatening to interrupt her Sunday morning cartoons.
Nooo… not now, she thought, cheeks already tingling with a faint blush. I don’t wanna stop watching…I can just stay right here.
She ignored it, bouncing gently on her knees as Elmo and Abby sang. The pressure grew stronger, but she was too deep in her floaty headspace to care.
A tiny toot slipped out. Then another. She barely noticed, content in her carefree bubble.
Daddy walked in from the kitchen, drying his hands on a dish towel. He slipped on his glasses, sat down on the couch with his tablet, and smiled softly when he saw his baby girl.
Just the sight of her paci bobbing steadily, blankie clutched tight, and being completely mesmerised by the bright noisy characters made his heart melt.
“Is your tummy all full now from breakfast and your baba, princess?” he asked warmly, his voice full of gentle affection.
“Uh huh, Dada…” she mumbled around her paci, eyes still glued to the screen, not even turning her head.
Daddy opened his tablet and started reading the morning news, but he kept glancing over at her with that knowing little smile.
He already knew exactly what was coming. His baby always made her morning stinkies after breakfast.
It was her body’s sweet, predictable routine, and he loved every part of taking care of it.
She kept bouncing happily on her knees as the characters sang even louder and more joyfully. The pressure in her tummy grew stronger and more urgent, but it still felt distant and unimportant, like background noise in her perfect little headspace.
Another toot escaped and this one was louder but surprisingly she didn’t even register it.
Then, without any conscious thought, her body took over completely.
She subconsciously shifted forward onto her knees in that classic toddler pose, bottom slightly raised, back arched just a little, legs spread for balance.
She didn’t even realise she was doing it.
Her eyes stayed locked on the bright, colourful screen as Elmo and his friends started a lively new dance song about friendship.
She suckled harder on her paci, clutched her blankie a little tighter against her chest, and pushed ever so slightly.
A warm, mushy fullness slowly began to fill the back of her diaper. The soft, heavy load came out with almost no effort at all, it was warm and thick and smooth, spreading gently and steadily against her skin in that unmistakable squishy way.
It kept coming, filling the seat of her diaper more and more until the padding felt noticeably heavier and warmer, the mess pressing softly in all the squishiest, most intimate places.
Her tummy finally felt so much lighter and better, but her diaper felt so much fuller now, the warm mush cradling her in a way that was both embarrassing and strangely comforting.
Still facing the TV and deep in her happy little world, she relaxed completely and sat back down cross-legged without thinking. The mess squished noticeably underneath her, warm and mushy, spreading even more as she settled into her soaked nightime diaper.
She let out a tiny, contented sigh around her paci and kept watching, completely unbothered, her eyes sparkling with delight as Elmo and friends danced across the screen.
Feels better now, she thought feeling relieved and still in a daze.
Daddy watched the whole thing unfold from the couch. He saw the bouncing, heard the little toots, and noticed the exact moment she filled her diaper. He cringed slightly at the thought of the cleanup, but his smile stayed soft and loving. His baby looked so peaceful sitting there in her messy diaper, completely lost in her cartoons, paci bobbing happily.
He set his tablet down and approached quietly, crouching down behind her.
“Hey baby girl,” he said casually. “Do you smell something funny?”
She didn’t answer, still staring at the screen.
He tried again, gently tugging the back of her Sesame Street pj bottoms. “Princess, I asked if you can smell anything funny… because I certainly can.”
She finally turned around, paci still in her mouth, and gave him a sweet, innocent smile. “I can smell something funny, Dada. Did you toot?”
Daddy’s eyebrows rose in amusement as he let out a low chuckle and shook his head in disbelief. “No little one, that wasn’t me”.
Deciding not to humour her today and risk his princess getting a diaper rash, he wasted no time revealing exactly where the funny smell was coming from.
He gently lifted her to her feet and spun her around, pulling back the waistband of her pj bottoms and diaper to check the mess.
“Oh honey,” he said, voice warm with loving tease. “That’s one very messy didi. You sure did make a big stinky for Daddy, didn’t you? Look at all that mushy surprise you left for me in your cute little Sesame Street pants.”
She froze. The realisation hit her like a tidal wave. The warm mush, the heavy weight, the fact that she had just happily sat in it while watching cartoons.
Her cheeks burned bright red. She covered her face with both hands, mortified, squirming in place as the mess shifted again.
Daddy gently pulled her hands away and looked her right in the eyes, determined to make her cheeks turn that pretty shade of pink.
“Baby girl, when Daddy asks you a question, I expect an answer. Now… are you Dada’s little stinker? Hmm?”
She squirmed harder, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Her voice came out tiny and shy.
“Y-yes…”
Daddy chuckled softly and tilted her chin up.
“Yes what, princess?”
She pouted, cheeks flaming hotter than ever.
“Yes… I’m Dada’s little stinker.”
“That’s right,” he praised warmly, pulling her into a big hug and rocking her gently. “You’re Dada’s sweet little stinker who made a big messy stinky in her diaper. I’m so proud of you for telling me like a good girl.”
She hid her burning face in his chest, but a tiny, shy smile appeared anyway. Daddy’s praise always made the embarrassment feel a little warmer, even as the heavy, squishy mess reminded her exactly what she’d done.
He scooped her up effortlessly into his arms, cooing softly as he carried her upstairs. “Now that you’ve told Daddy about your dirty diaper like a good girl, how about we go get that messy butt all clean and into a fresh diapie, princess?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and nodded, still blushing furiously as he carried her, fussing over her with gentle kisses and whispers the whole way.
As he pulls her in, she feels his hard lips press into her soft sissy mouth and his rough beard against her smooth face. She is surprised how small and fragile she feels in his strong arms. She is weak and faint, almost losing balance, but lets him support her, and she and melts into blissful submission opening her soft mouth to accept his aggressive tongue.
It all started the day my new stepfather caught me dressing. He said I made a beautiful teen stepdaughter, and that we should keep this as our little secret.
Listen to me little brother: You are looking so sexy tonight. I can tell by the look in your date's eyes that he is going to take you home and make you his little sissy fuck toy. By tomorrow you will not be a virgin anymore and we can talk about men for real.
My mom got re-married to this really macho ex-football player recently. He told me that if he catches me dressing like a girl one more time around the house, he is going to give me a spanking.
After my first time having sex with a man, I lay there with my swollen bottom full of his warm cum, my head resting on his chest, and his strong arms around me. I had never felt so totally content before: safe, feminine, protected, and happy,
At age 14, I came home from school horrified to fund theses hanging on my closet door. When I had left for school that morning, they were hidden in my secret stash at the bottom of my closet.
Mom was standing there: "I cleaned and ironed the skirt for you. You should never leave your clothes wadded up in the closet like that sweetie. And, oh, the rest are cleaned and in the laundry room. Come down stairs and I will show you how to iron and fold them. Then, I want to see how you look in them."
"But mom, I ...I mean...I didn't..."
"It's ok sweetheart. I have been wanting to be introduced to my sweet daughter for a long time and cannot wait to get to know you."
