J - The Jungle
It was a nice lavish house. The ring of the door-knocker was held by the bronze face representing a bearded man. I lifted it up to hit the door 3 times. I was already delighted.
My mother, who stood right behind me, put her hands on my shoulders. She was more stressed than I was. A well-dressed woman opened.
- Good evening, welcome ! You are a bit early. Please come on in, weather is horrid.
My mother politely refused and settled on the doorstep so the lady’s husband would bring me home when they would be back. I kissed her and entered this new environment.
- Would you like something to drink, Daisy ? A fruit juice, maybe ?
- No thanks, Madam.
She had an amused smile.
- Just call me Katia.
Katia introduced me to her daughter, Gwenaëlle, who announced to me being 5, the fingers of her hand widely spread to support her words. The father joined us, adjusting his tie. With the numbers to call in case of emergency and the instructions concerning dinner given, they headed to their evening out.
Here I was, alone.
- Do you want me to show you my dolls ?
Almost alone.
I was used to looking after my little sister. Gwenaëlle was more expansive but also more openly affectionate. A couple of tears at bedtime quickly reduced by the story book of Ratatouille put an end to my first hours of work. It was 9.30pm. The house was mine for at least two hours.
I began with a proper exploration of the bathroom. Maybe a stock of diapers for the little miss was hidden somewhere? The opening of every single cupboard and drawer revealing nothing interesting at all, I came back to the living room with a disappointed pout. An impressive bookcase in somber wood covered almost an entire wall. I came closer. Part of it was filled with children educational books including “Orange-ish* : the potty”. The story was about how that little girl who clearly did not want to be called Amber* like everyone else, learn to give up on diapers. “You are a big girl now, you do not need to put diapers on anymore” said her mother.
“Poor Orange-ish” thought I. If it was not to do as the grown-ups did, would children choose to abandon diapers? The question still remains…
For the lack of diaper, this evening still yielded 40€ to me ; the equivalent of about 10 eggs and cheese galettes**, 20 little bags of candies or more than 100 diapers. I felt like the queen of the world. I only had to solve the issue of the hiding place of this formidable potential ABDL hoard.
My father came early to pick us up on a Saturday. He and my mother took some time to talk in the kitchen. They announced to us that time had come for me and my sister to split bedrooms. After some work, the garage became a new space for me, myself and I. Its inauguration was celebrated with a little family gathering during which my mother warned me:
- Every liberty comes with responsibilities, love. It is your bedroom, therefore you get to clean it !
General burst of laughter. I made a bothered face because this was expected of me meanwhile inside I was exulting. I became as tidy as possible so my mother would never -ever- had an excuse to enter my kingdom.
I was also more and more allowed to go to my friends’ during the weekends. As most of them lived a 10-minute walk away, I could come and go on my own. One evening, I came back when the bulky wastes were out in the streets. Against an imposing broken Welsh dresser was laying an old suitcase. Dusty indeed, its corners damaged for sure, but still functional and with a nice capacity. A metal ring would go through a pierced leather band to secure the closing with a lock. As swiftly as a cat, I slided my discovery under my bed. We had bought a lock for my school locker and as they were sold by pair, I had one left. Is it really necessary to specify that on the next Wednesday the suitcase was not filled either with eggs and cheese galette or bags of candies?
My first night of reunion with the Pampers in my new room was almost sleepless. In addition to groping regularly, I had the pleasure to sit at my desk with a diaper on, prepare my school bag with a diaper on, dance on my bed with a diaper on and other happy things with a diaper on. I also increased my comfort by laying on the bed instead of the cold bathroom floor. I was over the moon.
Months were passing and my cravings developed.
- Daisy , would you like to come to my birthday party ?
When I grabbed the invitation card that my friend was offering me, the idea immediately jumped in my mind. The party facilities would be one of the types conceived for parents to be able to leave their boisterous progeny to underpaid mascots. They would then spend half a day yelling in inflatable castles, climb restlessly into hamster palaces and get a move on pedal cart tracks. It might be jungle-like, but I will stay dry all along.
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* If anyone cares : the original title of the book is Caillou : le pot. The original joke is playing with Caillou meaning “stone” which is not a name at all and Pierre meaning “rock” which is a common French name. Authors were out of their mind is my opinion.
** See article J