✅ Over Protected

9. Mum Diapers her Baby

"It's okay, sweetie. You're just my little baby."

I hesitated on the landing when I heard those words coming from my big sister's room. I knew that Mum had said she would punish Sarah for her lies by treating her like a baby; but it had been nearly a month now, and she was still doing it. Sarah couldn't still be lying, because she didn't have the opportunity; so shouldn't the punishment have ended by now? But Sarah didn't seem to be objecting, and I wondered what I might have missed.

I didn't hear Sarah's response, but I could tell that she was laughing as she said it. Maybe that was why; it wasn't really a punishment anymore, and she was just calling it that because she was embarrassed to admit that she actually liked being treated like a baby.

I hesitated for a moment on the way to my own room, and glanced through the crack in the door. I could see Mum in her dressing gown, and I could see Sarah's feet sticking up in the air. Lying on her back to be diapered, just like a real baby.

I tried to imagine how it would feel, to have Mum treating me in such an embarrassing way at my age. It was the kind of thing that would be the end of your social life forever if anybody else ever heard about it; but then it was only something that happened in the house, so there was no danger of that happening. I thought about all the times Sarah told me that we couldn't do something together because I was too young to hang around with her; and all the times she called me "baby" like it was the biggest insult she could imagine. I could imagine how upset me and my friends got, whenever somebody treated us like little kids. When the park keepers asked where our parents were, or if we were old enough to be out on our own, was the most humiliating thing I could imagine, and I hated that.

Besides, Mum spent so much time looking after Sarah now, I knew she wouldn't be able to do that for both of us. And I wasn't a baby now, I didn't need that much attention. I knew I shouldn't be watching, I was supposed to be going to bed now. But there was something comforting about seeing Mum so happy, just looking after her baby. And from the sound of things, Sarah was starting to be at least comfortable with the role, so it wasn't like it hurt anybody.

I watched as Mum held Sarah's ankle in one hand, while the other went to the pocket of her dressing gown. I imagined it must be really difficult to slide the pack of wipes half out, open it, extract a single wipe, and then reseal the pack with one hand. But Mum did it so gracefully, I could only imagine it had taken her a lot of practice to make it seem so effortless. Once Sarah was wiped to her satisfaction, she reached for the diaper and unfolded it. I pouted a little when I saw the pattern; it was a vibrant purple, decorated with a pattern of what looked like octopuses with interlocking arms. I don't know why it mattered, but they were so much cuter than the ones Mum had given me, and it didn't seem fair.

It wasn't long before Mum asked Sarah for the diapers, wipes, and baby powder back so she could return them to the drawer. She would be tucking her into bed soon enough, and then heading to bed herself. I hurried into my room before she could see me standing out on the landing, and attended to putting myself in pull-ups. I told myself that green striped Allnights were just as absorbent as the fancy ones with octopuses on, and it was nothing to be jealous over. But I couldn't stop wondering if Sarah was getting a kiss good night again, like we did when we were really small. That was a babyish thing that I would welcome the return of; just a simple sign of how much she cared.

As I lay in bed, imagining how safe I would feel after being tucked in, or a lullaby, or a bedtime story... I realised that there were a lot of things I'd never even thought about, helping me to feel safe when I was young enough to need it. It just showed how hard Mum had tried, even when she was exhausted from working two jobs to make ends meet. And I promised myself that I would try harder in future, and do more of the chores to put less work on her. And I would be good at school, so that I didn't cause her any extra stress.

I should have gone to sleep with those thoughts on my mind, but I was still restless. I ended up wondering if it would be okay to swap diapers with Sarah, or to borrow one or two of hers. Just because the cuter pattern would probably make me smile. Was that too childish, when I needed to be the mature one? Or even the baby wipes... I didn't have them. There was just a pack of pull-up diapers under my bed, none of the other stuff that went with them. And I wondered if the baby wipes would make me feel even more comfortable, or if the sweet smell of baby powder would make it easier to drift off to sleep. Of course I didn't need them, but that didn't stop me wondering about how much better it might feel for Sarah, being treated like a real baby. Even the softness of the pull-ups had been more comfortable than I could have imagined, so could the other stuff be even better?

I didn't think it was likely, but I was still curious. And those were the bizarre thoughts that carried me into dreamland that night. Maybe that was why I dreamed about being babied again. About Mum putting me back in diapers, and pushing me around the park in a little buggy, like a little kid who couldn't even walk yet. About stopping at one of the little benches by the duck pond, and being fed a bottle while all my friends pointed and laughed. In the morning I laughed too, thinking about how silly the dream had been, and how I hadn't even thought to resist that kind of treatment. If anything like that were to happen in the real world, I was sure I would have kicked up a fuss. Before it got to my friends laughing at me, anyway.

My alarm still hadn't gone off, so I turned over and tried to get back to sleep, in case some fragment of that dream still remained.