Annelise was pouting. Mummy was so unfair sometimes, so mean! All the other children got to go on the excursion to the zoological garden, and did she get to tag along? No – all because Mummy maintained that she was decidedly not mature enough.

“No, you absolutely may not, Annelise!” she had retorted to her daughter’s whining pleas. “Tell me this, dearie – when you’ve had another one of your accidents, who’ll change your wet nappy, hmm? I don’t suppose you think Sister Margaret is willing to do that for you? Honestly, it’s bad enough that a girl your age needs nappies and rubber pants overnight, but ever since you made that scene at the choir recital – well, you now know as well as I do that you desperately need that protection. It’s difficult enough for me to manage the sisters, to convince them that you can still attend school – even if you are in nappies and waddling around the classrooms like an absolute toddler. They’re allowing it for now as long as you come home at the noon break for a change, but I know they won’t tolerate you and your soggy nappies for an entire day…”

She clutched her stuffed bear more closely, shifting her position, feeling the bulky padding around her petite bottom and hearing the ever-present loud crackle and rustle of her lace-covered rubber pants. She felt a slight pressure in her bladder, hesitated for only a second, and let go at once in resignation, feeling the familiar warmth seeping into the already damp nappies. Sure, she could have held it this time – but why bother? She might as well use them: just like Mummy expected, just like the sisters expected, just like the entire world apparently expected.

Annelise the nappy-wearing baby – Annelise the soggy nappy girl. I guess that’s me… She pouted again. So. Very. Unfair.

Image Credit: Trudy of (

Please don’t remove my caption; if you do, may all the coffee at your office on Monday be decaf.

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