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The nurses always tell me to get up and go out and walk around for exercise 😛 I said OK

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Sundresses: the trick up the sleeve of every baby to be fresh, look beautiful and, as we know, hide a puffy diaper. Yours is printed with sunflowers leading us through our favorite park.

Hand in hand, we usually switch the lead in our walk, but you always end up running to play with other’s dogs or, as now, that you’re throwing bread to ducks at the pond.

I lead the way to buy ice cream, which always ends up being chocolate and some days leaving stains on your dress, but that doesn’t matter now that we’ve found our place below a tree where light pours in blond threads, and you can crawl over the grass and play with the stuffie that was hiding in your backpack.

A droplet of evening sun woke me up. I’m leaning against the tree, you’re still sucking your thumb with your head in my thigh, and I have the dinosaur book that I was reading you beside me. You were groggy when I woke you, but the announcement that it was time to go to the playground soon changed your mood.

At this time of the afternoon, the playground is yours. After speeding down the slide, you run to a swing, where I push you until your feet begin to touch the sky. The pirate tale beings when you arrive at the suspension bridge. I even had to follow you down the monkey bars when the floor turned into lava, and we ended laughing at the see-saw as we tried to discover who could go higher.

Every park story ends with a sleepy baby who already needs a change and a caregiver even more tired but ready to prepare dinner. As we leave towards home, I’m sure that no park day is the same and that the next time we return, our adventure will be different.

… .

Sandy squirmed her legs and writhed on the wet mattress of her bare, padded asylum cell. She was still in a straight jacket and laying in a puddle of her piss, which had thoroughly soaked not just her white, cotton panties, but the bottom strap of her straight jacket which was pulled tight up against her pussy. The thin sheet over her was wet, and so was her bare mattress.

And all of it was stained bright, piss yellow. And it smelled like a naughty little girl.

Sandy waited patiently for the nurse to come, her mess starting to get chilly. She dreaded the conversation that she knew she would face. After all, she did promise that she didn’t need a diaper, and certainly didn’t need to be classified as a ‘non-potty trained individual’. It was their fault for not letting her use the bathroom!

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Read the rest of naughty Sandy’s tale on Kindle here!