Thinking about a sleeeeepy, slow weekend night. My little boy snuggled under a blanket on the couch watching something gentle on TV in just a t-shirt, a soggy diaper and some socks while I do some tidying in the kitchen. "Mooooommmmy," He calls out and turns to peek up and over the couch at me, "All done!"
He's referring to the blue icee I gave him after dinner as a treat, "You can eat it on the couch, babydoll, but be very careful! Just like a big boy!" And as always, he listened wonderfully and didn't spill a drop.
"Good boy!" I take the container, giving it a once over to make sure he ate the entire thing. I take my free hand and run my fingers through his hair, "It's getting late, baby. One more episode, then bedtime."
"Mommy," He starts, rubbing his eyes and wiggling from his spot on the couch, "I feel fuzzy."
"Fuzzy? Where? Your toes?" I tease, "Your tummy?" I poke him gently and he giggles, "My head, mommy! And...and..." He's squirming, squeezing his legs together, "...and...needy...!"
"Needy?!" I gasp, feigning surprise. I smile when he grabs my hand and holds it to his cheek, "I wonder why that is?"
The reality was, I knew why. I knew that he felt fuzzy and needy because I'd mixed his special bedtime medicine into his dessert. I only ever did this when I knew he needed a little extra help...and when I wanted an especially malleable baby boy to play with.
"Mommy," He's still squirming but I can tell he's getting tired because when I move to sit on the edge of the couch he lets my hand go, "Puh-...p-...pleeeeease. Mommy!" He's watching me closely, tucking his hands under his armpits...he knows better than to touch in a way that makes him feel good without asking.
I pat his pissy diaper and giggle when he bucks up into my hand, "Oh my goodness, look at you... I'm barely touching you, sweet boy!" I switch from patting to rubbing and he gasps, hips moving faster and harder into my hand. He is so fuzzy and disoriented and yet...so desperate for my touch that he's managing to do most of the work. This realization makes me giggle and I lean so that the left side of my body is resting on his legs, my right hand still rubbing the wet padding into his very eager little baby part. He's not able to squirm as freely now that I'm leaning on him and this type of restraint always gets him worked up, especially when he's fuzzy.
"Mommy I -- ....mommy, mommy, I gonna - ...mommy stickies, please!"
I pretend like I don't hear him and rub faster, making sure to time it perfectly with his slow, sleepy hip thrusts. I let him beg for a little while longer before taking my hand off of his diaper, which by this point, was barely hanging on. "I don't want you to make stickies before we get you in bed. You'll fuss when I try to move you and sweet little babies like you aren't supposed to sleep on the couch." He looks at me, eyes wide and glassy...like I'd just done the most unspeakable thing in the world. He's on the verge of tears and that is exactly how I want him.
"Come on, cutie," I stand up and extend my hand, "If you're very good, mommy will make sure your diaper change is extra special."
