Sin título

Sweat trickled down my face as I finished setting up the green-and-white-striped Cool Cabana and placed a large beach blanket in the shade it provided.

“Alright, honey, let’s get some sunscreen on you so you can play. Those cheeks already look like they’re burning.”

It takes you a second to answer. “Wha--? Oh, yeah, okay..”

Your focus isn’t on me—you’re scanning the beach full of beautiful bikini-clad women tanning in the sun and the handsome, muscular men hoping to get with them.

The men notice you, too. Men have always noticed you. Not that I blame them.

With the breeze rippling through your hair, revealing the yellow floral tankini that accentuates your figure and complements the linen pants beneath it, you’re as beautiful and elegant as ever.

Your linen pants aren’t the only thing your tankini complements, though.

From a distance, your linen pants are opaque enough to render the patterns beneath them indistinct and unrecognizable.

Up close, I can easily spot Griffin the lion, Zack the zebra, Lily the hippo, Alex the monkey, and Johnny the parrot on your Rearz Safari diaper.

“Arms up, eyes closed, princess.”

You whimper when you notice the pink bottle of Banana Boat Baby sunscreen in my hand, but let me rub the sunscreen into your arms, shoulders, back, and face without any fuss.

The moment I stop, you open your eyes. “Can I have a soda, please?”

“Sure, let me just finish with the sunscreen. Thank you for asking, honey.”

“Do you need me to help you with your sunscreen?” you suggested, a bit too eagerly to hide your attempt at distraction.

“You’re a silly girl. What about your little leggies, hmm?”

Blushing wildly, you bite your lip, desperately trying to come up with a way out. “Umm, I..I already did it! Yeah, at home. I just forgot to tell you! So, all good, Daddy!”

By now, your cheeks were blushing shades of red I didn’t have names for. You looked around to make sure nobody heard you say Daddy after practically shouting it.

“Hmmm,” I say sniffing the air, “You’re hiding something. Did you make a boomboom? Is that why you’re acting so silly?”

“N-no!”

“I'd better check. A stinky diapie in this heat is a recipe for rashies.”

I could practically hear the gears turning in your head, knowing that if you argued, it would draw attention, but not wanting to be checked so openly.

“Let's see,” I teased, using your hesitation to spin you around and pull back your diaper, “No poopies! But then why are you being so silly?”

We both knew the reason, but this game was far too fun.

“Oh no, did Daddy forget to shave your legs? Are you a hairy baby?”

“N-no!”

Your eyes meet mine, an unusual mix of neediness and daring. Not that it matters—there’s no going back to the way things were before.

This is what you begged for.

And where better to learn your rightful place in the world than here, surrounded by all these beautiful people?

Miami is where people go to see and be seen. To touch and be touched. A place that celebrates and perpetuates all the adult things that you gave up.

The people on the beach are no longer your equals.

No man will ever look at you in your thick, soggy diapers with the same lust as the women sunbathing on the beach.

Women will no longer be jealous of your beauty—the girl getting her diaper changed is adorable, not a threat.

All anyone will see is a silly girl.

“No? Hmm, this is quite the conundrum. Surely the baby isn’t scared of everyone seeing her friends?!”

I kneel in front of you and poke each character as I name them. “I thought you loved Lily..and Zack…and don’t forget Griffin!”

“D-Daddyyyy.”

“Princess…you’re not a big girl anymore. You’ll never be a big girl again. Look around, do you see anyone in diapers? No. They’re the adults—not you. This is your life now.”

“B-but…Daddy…”

Poor baby.

“No buts, sweetie. It’s time to let go of who you were, she’s not coming back. You’re never getting out of diapers or getting a second chance at adulthood. It’s time to show everyone the real you.”

You struggle to reply, surveying the crowd knowing every one of them is about to see your diaper.

“Now, are you ready to let Daddy put on your sunscreen?”

“Y-yeah, Daddy…”

“Do you want your binky?”

Your eyes flitter trying to decide. A binky will only draw attention to your infantile state—but you crave its calming power.

I smile at your teeny head nod.

“Good girl!” Inside your favorite binky in your mouth. “Daddy is proud of you, Princess.”

A weak, nervous smile creeps behind your pacifier.

I tickle your tummy before grabbing the sides of your linen pants, the last vestige of your adulthood, and slide them down, exposing your soggy Safari diaper.

“There’s my friends! Hi Lily!” I coo playfully, acting as if this is the most normal thing in the world. I grab the sunscreen and rub them into your legs, not even glancing at the reactions around me.

Because it doesn’t matter what they think. All that matters is ensuring my princess is properly protected from the sun.

Especially when the UV is at 11!

Her leg muscles are tight. I can feel her nerves the way she’s swaying, looking around.

I ignore it.

She’s not the woman I met two years ago. Not the woman one could shame a bartender with her dirty martinis. Or the woman who dominated every interaction at work.

That woman—whatever remains of her—is the one that’s nervous being seen in the diaper by all these hot twenty-something’s.

She’ll fade away into oblivion as the sweet, needy babygirl that I love gains more confidence. The one that belongs in diapers. The one that isn’t worried about things like sex, success, and fashion.

All I care about is the adorable little thing that years for the tender, intimate moments laying in Daddy’s lap, suckling on a baba, lost in my eyes. Hearing her silly giggles when Daddy makes funny faces during diaper changes.

And most of all, the way she blames her stuffy for her poopy diapers with such conviction.

“All done! Ready for that soda, princess?”

Her binky bobs a few times before she nods.

She has no idea how adorable she is right now. I almost feel bad that she’s struggling when I’m barely able to contain myself.

Here we are in the middle of South Beach—and she’s standing under a cabana in a floral print ranking and a soggy Rearz diaper, suckling on a pacifier.

Every bit the baby she’ll be for the rest of her life.

From the cooler I grab her a soda and myself a Pacifico, opening both and handing it to her.

“Whoops, Daddy forgot to clip your binky to your shirt!”

Her cheeks are the most adorable shade of red as she stands there letting me clip her pacifier to her top.

“Do you want to play in the sand for a bit before we go in the water?” I ask, knowing she’s not ready to venture beyond the relative safety of our cabana.

She nods.

I kiss her forehead before guiding her down to the sand. “I’ll grab your toys sweetie.”

I’ll never forget this moment as long as I live. The way her diaper poofs out as she’s sitting criss cross applesauce looking up at me, waiting to play in the sand.

Luckily I couldn’t help myself at the store, buying every adorable shovel, bucket, and sandcastle mold in sight.

I place them all in front of her.

In an hour she’s no longer glancing around at the curious beachgoers, consumed in her play. As I work on another beer, she looks up at me and smiles.

“Having fun, baby?”

“Mhm!”

“Wanna go in the water?”

“Ummm…” you stares out at the water, debating. As she does, her face suddenly focuses on something.

“What ya looking at princess?”

No response.

“Princess?”

Your hands ball into fists as she leans forward, still starting at nothing in particular.

“Mmmghhp.”

“Are you making a boomboom for Daddy?”

“Mmmpgghhh.”

Three college girls in University of Miami sorority shirts walking by hear her little grunts, stopping to watch a girl their age mess her diaper.

A loud, bubbly toot erupts into your diaper, which they take as their cue to move on. But not before giving me sympathetic smiles—especially after you grunt again.

Before you come out of your pushie stupor, I snap a few pictures of the moment.

A small, needy voice breaks the silence.

“D-Dada….”

Your voice cracks, small and needy barely louder than the distant crash of the waves. Your cheeks are the deepest shade of crimson I’ve ever seen, eyes wide and glistening as you glance towards the sorority girls still lingering a few steps away.

They’re pretending they aren’t watching your babyish display but their knowing smiles and whispered giggles tell a different story.

I lean in closer, my voice low and velvet-soft against your ear.

“What’s wrong, Princess? Use your words. Tell Daddy what you need.”

“I…I…”

“Did my princess make a boomboom?”

“M-mhm…”

“You silly baby, c’mon, let’s get Daddy’s lil’ stinker changed!”

I don’t even bother finding anywhere secluded to change her. This is her life now—and mine.

All around us the hot and sweaty dance of Miami Beach continues on as if we were never there. As it will for every summer after.

But not for you.

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.

Just… resting.