“Noo…I’m sorry…” He’s wiping his eyes again.
“It’s okay. It was just a little accident. We’re just going to take your pull-up off and get you a new one, okay?”
I make him stand on the pad I’ve pulled out onto the floor while I undo his fly. He’s still trying desperately to wipe his eyes, but the tears are coming too fast now, dripping down his chin and leaving wet marks on the front of his shirt.
“Okay, step out. It’s okay to stop wiping your eyes. It’ll be easier if you put your hands on my shoulders, okay? It’s okay if you cry. We can wash your face later.”
He’s cooperative as I wipe him down and he helps me with his lotion. “I don’t know why I still need this stuff.”
“It’s okay. You’re just a little bit behind. We don’t need to worry about why. Maybe it’s just because you’re just a little bit on the soft and sensitive side.”
I meet his eyes. “That’s not a bad thing. It’s a good thing to be sensitive.”
He helps me with the new pull-up and we get his pants back on. “At least it didn’t leak,” he says quietly.
“That’s right; it was just a small accident. Just remember to try and make it to the bathroom next time, okay? You can tell me if you need help.”
“I don’t know why I can’t do it,” he says, and tears are starting to form in his eyes again.
“It’s okay! I didn’t mean to make it sound like you need to be able to get to the bathroom on time. It’s okay if you have another accident.”
Now we go in the bathroom and he sits on the counter while I wash his face. He squeezes his eyes shut and grimaces as I rub them with the washcloth.
“Let’s go out to the kitchen, okay? We can have a snack.”
He nods and grabs my hand as soon as he’s down from the counter.
We go into the kitchen and he sits down at the table, drawing his knees up to his chest. I open the cupboard and bring down a box of alphabet cookies and two sectioned plates. I get his sippy cup from the clean dish rack and open the fridge.
“Which juice do you want? Do you want the apple mango one? Or the cranberry one you got yesterday?”
“Cranberry,” he says quietly, and I take it out and set it next to the cookies and plates on the counter.
“I can pour it out myself,” he says quietly.
“No, not this time. You spilled yesterday, remember?”
He looks away, fidgeting with the tablecloth. I pour out cookies into both plates and also add some sugar snap peas from the fridge. I set his down in front of him, with his juice.
I sit down next to him and we start eating. He blushes every time I look at him while he’s drinking from his sippy cup.
“Does what feel good?” he asks, coughing a little at the end of the sentence.
“Drinking from your cup.”
“Are you feeling better? Or do you need me to come over there and sit you on my lap?”
He raises a hand to his mouth, picking at his lip with his thumb.
“Okay.” I stand up and pull out his chair, helping him stand while I sit down. I pull him into my lap and wrap my arms around his waist.
We sit in silence for a few minutes while we both eat off his plate, until he suddenly squirms and tries to stand up, knocking his knee on the bottom of the table.
“Are you okay? What’s going on?”
“I’m peeing!” he gasps, and I can feel it quickly soaking through his pull-up. Warm pee saturates his pants and quickly soaks through mine, too.
“Don’t try to stand up again,” I tell him, pulling him back down. “These chairs are easy to wipe down. I don’t want you to have to mop up a trail of pee from here to the bathroom today. Just keep going.”
I can’t see his face but I can tell he’s all red again. The hissing slows and stops.
“Are you done?” I feel another trickle immediately, soaking down to my skin again.
He shakes his head, squeezing his legs together as the last few spurts come out.
He nods and I scoot the chair back, pulling him up under his armpits.
“I’m sorry…” he says again.
“You’re all good. Do you just need your nighttime diaper now? We could try one more pull-up, but it seems like it’s kind of hard for you today. That was two accidents in just about an hour.”
He wipes his eyes again and I pull him closer to me and brush his tears away with my sleeve. “It’s okay. We can do a diaper and PJs. You should take a shower first, okay?” I pull away from him. “Do you need help in the shower? Okay. I thought so.”
He slips his hand into mine again and we find ourselves back in the bathroom. “Let’s get these sticky pants off. I’ll take mine off, too. Oh, you got a little on my shirt. We have some laundry to do.”
He places the wet clothes in a pile on the tile floor and stands on the bath mat, rubbing one foot over the other and looking shy.
“Can you turn the water on and warm it up?”
He nods and turns around, bending over a little while he fiddles with the shower knobs.
“Okay, let’s clean you up first.” I reach for his monkey bath mit.
Once we’re finishing with the shower, I take him to our room and help him lie down on his changing mat, but not before pulling a PJ shirt over his head. “Do you want to go on the tablet while I change you?”
He nods, and I get it down from the shelf, along with a pacifier for him. He doesn’t protest at all when I sneak it into his mouth. I unlock the tablet with the password (that he doesn’t get to know) and pass it to him. He swiped through the apps a couple of times before finding the puzzle game he likes.
He’s a lot calmer as I rub cream along the insides of his thighs and his bottom. I can hear the very faint music and sound effects of his game. The sucking sound he’s making on the pacifier is a little louder.
“There. All done. Let’s get PJ pants on.”
He hands the tablet back to me and I put it back in its place on the shelf.
He makes sure I’m giving him matching PJ pants. He got really upset once when I changed him into a mismatched set when he was half-asleep.
He nods and takes out his pacifier. “Yeah, these ones are good.”
“Soft, too, huh? Do they feel good on your diaper? Not too tight?”
He shakes his head, pacifier back in his mouth and one hand pressing the shield against his lips.
He takes my hand once again as we walk out to the living room.
“Okay, can you go pick out a book from the shelf?”
He kneels in front of his bookshelf and I sit down on the couch, looking through my phone for soft music to put on the speaker.
He comes back holding the big book about birds and reptiles that he loves. I put my arms around him as he gets situated on my lap and reach my arms under his to take the book from him.
“Can you see the pictures okay?”
He nods, leaning his head back against my shoulder so that I can start reading.
We finish the book as I ask him if he wants another. He nods, taking the book from me and trotting back over to the shelf. He comes back with a storybook and we get comfortable again.
We’re halfway through when he wiggles on my lap and takes his pacifier out.
“That’s okay; that’s going to happen. Just let me know if you need to go #2, okay? I know it’s been a little bit, and we can change you into a new diaper.”
“Mommyyyy,” he complains.
“Okay, okay, I know it’s embarrassing to talk about that. Where was I? This page?” He points to the next sentence and I start reading again, but he’s still wiggly.
“Are you sure you don’t need to poop?”
“No, I’m pretty sure I do need to…”
“It’s a good thing you’ve got a diaper on. Do you need me to rub your stomach?”
He nods, pushing on his pacifier again. I set the book down on the couch next to us and gently slip my hand up his shirt. He shivers.
I start to gently rub and push on his lower belly and he makes a little sound like clearing his throat.
“Don’t force it. It’s going to come out when it needs to.”
He pushes a little again and I can feel something starting to press against my thigh.
“There. Now you’re going.” He reaches one hand down his pajamas and starts rubbing the front of his diaper, like he usually does when he goes #2. At least, I think so. I’m not sure whether or not he masturbates when he goes in the toilet, but I really, really wouldn’t be surprised.
He’s still pushing. “It’s kind of hard,” he says, making that little throat noise again. He grabs my forearm with his other hand, pushing up.
“Are you going to have another kind of accident in your diaper, too?”
“No? You’re rubbing on your diaper a lot. Do you want to use my thigh instead?”
He shakes his head vigorously.
“Yeah, it’s kind of embarrassing when I…”
“What? When you hump me through your diaper? It’s fine, dude. You’re already pooping yourself. That’s not too embarrassing. Getting off isn’t embarrassing, either.” He sits up on his knees and turns around, straddling my thigh.
“No, let’s take your PJ pants off first. That’ll help. And you won’t rip the seam again.”
He helps me pull them down.
“You’re going to need to stand up to get them all the way off. I know you’re really eager, but we can’t do it unless you’re just wearing your diaper, okay?“
He stands up, legs trembling, and kicks his pants off. He’s still massaging the front of his diaper as he gets himself sitting over my leg again.
“There we go. It’s okay. The diaper is already dirty, anyway.”
He starts to pant, hands on my shoulders.
“You’ve got it. You’ve got it.”
“Good. Just keep grinding through it. It’ll feel good.”
“That’s okay. I’ve got you.”
He gasps and lets his head drop onto my shoulder.
“Okay, do we need to get you changed one last time before we turn in? We can finish the story in bed.” He slides off me and I stand up, picking up the storybook and his PJ pants up from the floor.
“You don’t need to be carried to the bedroom, do you?”
He shakes his head, finally standing up off the couch. He grabs my hand one last time as we walk back to the bedroom.
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