Recapitulation - A New Year's Story

The stories this is a sequel to can be found here.

I glance around at the church’s nursery, looking out for any dolls or rattles or that sort of thing that anyone might have left behind, when suddenly the whole room goes dark. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve gone blind, until I notice a bit of light coming through the cracks in between your fingers.

I hear Ms… something-or-other, whose name I could never quite remember, giggle. “I can finish tidying up in here,” she says, “so you two can head out.”

The room comes back as you move your hands, leaving me blinking for a moment or two, about the same length of time that I worry you’ll decide to check me right here. Luckily, you don’t; not so luckily, you do give the back of my diaper a light pat, which is pretty much the same thing. I guess maybe you think I’m blocking Mrs. Something’s view enough that she won’t notice, but that doesn’t keep me from tilting my head up to glare at you.

“No, you go ahead,” you tell her politely. “I still need to lock up my office.”

“All right,” she says, grabbing her purse. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive,” you smile.

“See you next week, then!” She pauses as she reaches us, and looks down at me. “Thanks for your help, dear. You have a very nice voice.” And she gives me this weird little smile before she leaves.

“Did you see that?” I demand, turning to face you completely, face becoming a bit of a pout despite the compliment. It wasn’t like the songs we’d sung with the kids were difficult ones or anything, though I still had one stuck in my head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shrug innocently, closing the nursery door. “Did something happen?” You’re smiling as you turn back around to look at me, grin getting bigger when you see me cross my arms sulkily.

“You know what I’m talking about!” I insist, stomping a Mary-Janed foot. Normally, I’d have been wearing heels, but I didn’t think I could chase toddlers around in those without doing a fair bit of toddling myself, nor did it seem right to just wear sneakers to church. “I should never have let you talk me into that stupid New Year’s thing!”

Not that there had been a whole lot of talking going on. “It’ll be cute,” you’d said. “And you’ll be nice and warm - you always say they keep it too cold in there.”

“Do I have a choice?” I’d asked with a sigh, staring down at my footed sleeper, which I was about to wear in public for the second time in just a couple months.

“You’re baby new year!” you’d exclaimed, kissing the top of my head. “I guess we could just find a shirt instead, and let everyone see your cute little diaper.”

So, being one to know when to give in, I’d done so, and let you take me to the church’s New Year’s party like that, and even tolerated the sash that declared who I was supposed to be. I’d gotten quite a few comments, and some friendly (I think) laughs, but I was pretty sure that a few people suspected that my costume didn’t stop at the sleeper.

And if there was one person who I was really worried about noticing that, it was Ms. What’s-Her-Name, the nursery attendant. I mean, with as many diapers as she deals with, you have to assume she knows what they look like.

“You still think she knows?” you ask, shaking your head. I nod insistently, which makes you shrug, starting to reach for the doorknob again. “Well, I guess we could just go get her to change you, then. I bet she’s quicker than me…”

“Daddy!” I whine, jumping forward to grab your arm and stop you. You laugh as you lock the door instead and pick me up.

“Were you a good little helper?” you ask.

“Yes,” I nod. “She said so, didn’t she?”

“Did you take a nap with the other babies?” you ask, setting me down on the changing table. You laugh as I shake my head and stick out my tongue. “Maybe you’d better take one instead of going to the movies, then.”

I stare up at you with big eyes, wondering how serious you’re being. As if to answer, you start to tickle my tummy. I giggle and wiggle, falling back onto my back on the table and continuing to squirm as you push back my dress and start to pull down my tights to get to the wet diaper trapped beneath.

“Maybe we’d better start double-diapering you for church,” you tease, pulling loose the tapes. “You almost soaked right through this one.”

“Nuh-uh!” I protest, more to the idea of making my diapered state even more obvious, since I knew that my diaper was getting pretty near full.

“Well, I guess we could just have you stay down here every week,” you suggest, watching me shiver at the cold wipe before switching out the diaper beneath me with a fresh one. “And they could worry about it instead.”

“Ha ha,” I say flatly, glaring at you.

“I don’t think they’d mind too much,” you continue, pulling my new diaper up between my legs and taping it tight. “After all, I’m sure one more baby won’t make too much of a difference.” You pull up my tights, then bundle up the old diaper and throw it away before washing your hands. “Sound good?”

I let you set me back down on the floor, and start to smooth out my dress. “Well, they do get cookies down here…”

The nursery is covered in nice, thick, carpet, which is really quite comfy - and which I suddenly find myself laying down on as you re-start your tickle attack. Somehow, I manage to squeak out, “Daddy, we’re gonna be late,” in between giggles.

“All right, let’s go then,” you concede, helping me back up. “Do I need to change you again?” I stick out my tongue and hope you don’t already know the answer, or else we really might be late. Luckily, even when I pause to unlock the nursery door, and when I forget and try to open it before that, I don’t feel your hand reaching out for the back of my tights, so I take that as a good sign. I only wet a tiny bit, anyway. And that was totally your fault!

You let me go on ahead as you flip the light in the nursery off, then close the door, and catch up with me a few feet away from your office door, grabbing my hand and making me wait as patiently as possible beside you while you grab our coats from the hook just inside, and then lock it. You let me put on my own coat for once, while you’re getting into yours, but I’m not quite quick enough to zip it up myself.

The parking lot is almost empty when we leave the building, and the few people who are left are busy talking to each other far enough away that you decide to pick me up and put me into my seat, then buckle me up with a pat to the front of my diaper.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay waiting until the movie’s over to eat?” you ask once you’ve settled into your own seat. “There is a later showing, you know.”

“I’ll be fine!” I promise. “We’ll get some popcorn, and maybe some candy, and…”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, we will, will we?”

I look up at you with my best puppy dog eyes. “Yes?”

“Do you promise to eat all your veggies when we get home?”

I have a feeling this is some kind of trick; it can’t be that easy. I usually -do- eat all my veggies, no matter what you say, except for the ones that are yucky, and the ones that I get too full for. And the ones that are cooked too long, so they get all mushy, or too short, so they sort of squeak against my teeth. I eat all my carrots, though, unless you give me too many. “What veggies will they be?”

You shrug. “We’ll see when we get home.”

I sigh, sink back into the seat. “Only if you get me Reese’s Pieces. And get a Snickers and let me have a little bit.”

“I’ll split a bag of Reese’s Pieces with you.” It sounds pretty final, but that doesn’t always mean anything.

“What if I don’t want to split?”

“Are you going to eat a whole bag?”

I look down at my feet. “Eventually…”

“But not today?” I shake my head. “Then can you share with your Daddy?”

“No celery.”

“Deal,” you nod with a smile that’s just a little too big.

“We don’t have any celery, do we?” You shake your head with a laugh. “You’re a cheater,” I pout, deciding to stare out the window instead of talking to you. It’s only a minute or two more to the movie theater, anyway, and the way we’re going has plenty of neat old buildings to look at, some still decorated for Christmas.

I give a slight gasp as the theater comes into view. You turn to make sure I’m okay, and I just point out to the parking lot. “Look at all those people!” I manage to say after a second. “Why’re they here?”

“They want to see a movie,” you reply calmly, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Why are there so many, though?” I pout, resting my head against the window. “The line is forever long! And the popcorn line prolly is, too.”

“Do you want to go eat first?”

“No,” I sigh. “I’ll live.”

You seem doubtful, but you park the car, way out in the furthest parking lot, so that we have to walk all the way back up to the theater, and then past all the movie posters on the wall. I helpfully point out the one to the movie we’re going to, just so you don’t forget.

“I don’t know,” you shake your head a little, giving the poster a thorough examination, while I tug at your hand to get you moving again. “It looks like it might be too violent for a little girl. Are you sure you don’t want to see that?” You point off towards the poster for a cartoon, which doesn’t look too bad, really, except…

“That doesn’t have Johnny Depp!” I protest. “It won’t be that bad!”

“Are you sure?” Like I would know.

“Johnny Depp,” I repeat, a little louder and a little more drawn out. Honestly, that’s all you should need to know; everything else is just details.

Finally, you shrug, and start to move towards the ticket window again. “Well, you’ll only have yourself to blame when you have nightmares.”

“And Johnny Depp,” I remind you dreamily.

“Would you prefer to have him as a Daddy?” you ask, sounding a tiny bit jealous.

I think about it for a moment. “I don’t think he’s gonna offer.” I manage to keep from giggling just long enough to get it out, no longer. I know you’ll likely find some way to make me regret it later, but oh well.

We reach the end of the line by then, so at least we stop moving long enough for me to get my giggling under control. “Do you want to save our spot?” you ask once you decide I’m done.

“What for?” I ask, getting a bit of a smirk when I glance up at you, though I manage to stay quiet.

“Well, there’s a sign up there,” you point towards it. “I think it says something is sold out, but I can’t quite tell, so I’m going to go check, okay?”

“Umm… Okay…” I bite my bottom lip, glancing around at the other people in line, who all suddenly look a lot scarier.

“Do you want to go check instead, and I’ll wait here for you?”

I shake my head. “It isn’t for our movie anyway,” I tell you.

“Are you sure?” You seem fond of that question today. I nod, moving up closer to you and putting both of my arms around one of yours.

“All right,” you smile, running your free hand over the top of my head. “We’ll just wait and see.”

I stare up at you, feeling warm, and safe, and content. Maybe it won’t really matter if our movie is sold out, I tell myself. Waiting isn’t always a bad thing.

As the line moves forward at its molassas-like speed, and I cuddle up closer to my Daddy. The song from earlier began to play in my mind again so, in an effort to quiet it, I began to sing along with it quietly.

“You get a line, I’ll get a pole, we’ll go fishing at the watermelon hole, baby, you’re my friend!”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it goes.” I tilt my head up and match your smile, adding on a slow shrug.

“That’s okay.” As I’m staring upwards, I notice something white floating downwards. “Look, Daddy, snow!” I exclaim, somewhat louder than I’d intended. My cheeks turn a few shades of red as seemingly the whole rest of the line turns to look at us, but that does stop me from letting go of you with one hand and pointing upwards. “See?”

“I see,” you nod.

“This year’s getting off to a good start,” I decide, wrapping my arm around yours, where it belongs.

“That’s because you were Baby New Year,” you tell me. If I wasn’t so enthralled with staring up at the snow, I might have stuck my tongue out at you.

“So pretty,” I echo myself dreamily.

Recapitulation - A New Year’s Story

That was cute :slight_smile: It was a bit shorter than I imagined it would be, but it works.