Cody the Diaper Boy Next Door: Part 8 (A Very Special Christmas)

The bond between Cody and his neighbour Josh has deepened as the daily rituals of diapering the boy have brought out feelings in both of them. When we last left our story, the older man had found a word to describe that feeling – “Daddy”…and he struggled to overcome the fear of what that word might mean.

If you haven’t read the previous chapters, they are listed in reverse order on the Story Page.

I decided to add a chapter as a special Christmas gift to all the little ones, baby boys, baby girls, Daddys and Mommys who read this blog. And I want to send out a warm wish to every one of you who has e-mailed me, asked me questions, or thanked me. Your support, your contributions, and your reaching out to me are all the gifts a Daddy could want on Christmas.

May your Christmas be joyous and filled with love whether you celebrate the holiday or not! Littles are a gift to the world – you remind a sometimes grey and frustrating culture that innocence, play and vulnerability are to be embraced.

I hope you celebrate the sides of yourself that are child or baby-like and that you continue to not be afraid to express the need, simply, to be loved unconditionally.

Cody the Diaper Boy Next Door: Part 8

(A Very Special Christmas)

The Gift
Do you remember being a kid and there was “The Gift?”

You can picture the piles of wrapping paper, the boxes, the plates of cookies on the table and the adults drinking yet another cup of coffee to stay awake. You can picture yourself and maybe your siblings – still in PJs even though it’s well past noon.

But my guess is that if you try to remember what was IN all of those boxes, what all the gifts were….if you try to remember the socks or the sweater, the toy or that odd thing your Aunt got you, that you’ll have a hard time sorting it all out.

One year blurs into the next and the thing you remember most was the ritual of giving and receiving but the specifics are a little fuzzy. You can picture sitting on the floor and ripping open the presents, you can remember the look on your mother’s face as she opened the gift you made for her in art class, and you can remember wonderful smells from the kitchen.

And yet when you look back there were probably only a few things that you remember over all of those years that made you cry with delight: a train set maybe, a video game console, or the latest Harry Potter book.

One or two gifts over all of those years that stood out. They spoke to your heart. They promised a year of joy ahead.

They were exactly what you wanted.

Reading the Signs
When I look back, the months leading up to Christmas that year were a sort of slowly rolling wave. Some of the details seem a little vague but I can remember the feelings as clear as day.

Something inside me had made a decision – something deep, emotional, and charged with meaning.

And as summer rolled into Fall, as the quality of light changed and the days grew shorter, I would spend long days thinking and wondering: were these feelings ‘right’? How would my life change if I followed through? Was there a place in the world for something that seemed so….well, unusual or outside the norm?

Thankfully, Cody was there to give me signs.

I watched as a 20-year old boy who was a bundle of nervous energy and anxiety seemed to slowly transform: he became gentler, his motions seemed slower and more relaxed, he seemed to laugh more and at small little things.

As I’d send him home to bed each night he’d almost flop into my arms as I gave him a good night hug, patting his diapered bum gently, and his head would rest on my shoulder as my other hand stroked his hair.

His body seemed to give in to being hugged, cuddled, and stroked. He would sigh as if releasing some kind of inner pressure, his body would feel loose as if his muscles were responsive to the way I held and patted him, and he sometimes had a look in his eyes afterwards like he would cry with, well, with what I hoped was gentle happiness.

These were all signs to me that if nothing else, Cody needed the kind of love and attention that I had slowly come to accept I wanted to provide.

The Misunderstanding
But not everything went smoothly as Christmas approached.

First, all of us got caught up in the rush of the season. What had started with doubts and indecision soon became a plan, and I found myself distracted and away from home sometimes in the evenings.

Cody got caught up in things with friends, and there would be nights when he’d only be able to come by late in the evening for his night diaper. Rather than time together with cuddles or a movie, I’d simply diaper him and send him on his way.

As a result, we felt a little less connected and I could sense a change in Cody’s mood as a result.

But it was an afternoon’s discussion with his Gramma Joan that almost derailed things entirely. I had decided it was time to tell her, to explain my feelings, and to see if she might possibly understand the solution I proposed.

I had started by telling Joan that I had once believed we could find out why Cody wore diapers, why he wet his pants, and that if we could find the why we might be able to ‘cure’ the need.

But then I had told her that I had come to believe that there was a different solution. I explained my solution carefully, logically, but also shared my feelings and fears.

To this day my love for her will always be shaped by the kindness and understanding in her response. But little did I know that Cody had slipped into the kitchen unseen and unheard, and listened in on the last part of the conversation.

“I’m not saying it’s wrong,” Cody overheard his Gramma say. “It’s just a surprise. He’s been punished enough in life. And you know what it was like, I’ve told you. That kind of punishment stays with a boy.”

“Yes it does. And I know this all seems strange – but can you see the logic? How I feel about it?”

“Yes,” she said. “And you have my blessing, my love and support.”

And it breaks my heart to this day to think that Cody slipped quietly away and went to his room to cry. That his tears must gave torn at the fabric of his spirit.

Because here was a boy that overheard just the tail end of a conversation – and had come away from it thinking he would be punished for his feelings, that his needs and wants would be scolded out of him or, heaven forbid, beat out of him in other ways.

He didn’t know, and didn’t hear in the conversation that happened after, that his Gramma was simply expressing that perhaps this was the only way to put a past behind filled with fear, a life of punishments that could perhaps be healed by my plan.

I will forever carry with me the sadness I felt in coming to learn that Cody thought we would punish him for what was, in the end, the very essence of his spirit.

Anxious Days
As Christmas approached, I chalked Cody’s mood up to the rush of the season, the stress of too much to do, and our somewhat disjointed schedules.

For a few evenings after my chat with Joan, he didn’t show up for his nightly diapering, but I figured maybe he was out with friends and didn’t want to call on me too late.

When he returned, he seemed sullen and withdrawn, he almost seemed to flinch a little as I guided him to the bed. A look of relief would cross his face as I taped up his diaper nice and snug….not knowing that he had feared a spanking, a scolding, or worse.

When we would have dinner together, watch a movie, or when he would play video games on my living room floor – there was a distance. He was not as relaxed and his body felt slightly stiff as I’d hug him good night.

Day time diapers ceased entirely. I wondered whether he was diapering himself. Or maybe he was too distracted and those feelings had taken a back seat.

Looking back, I feel ashamed at how oblivious I was to what must have been a very hard time for the boy.

Where he had thought he had found love and acceptance, inside he was bracing for the day when we would punish him for wanting to wear diapers. He must have felt confused that I even continued to diaper him at night and must have suspected that I was saving for the day when we’d force him to face the reality of putting those needs behind.

And so while nothing distracted me from my plan, I felt a nagging sensation that the holiday season had left us all a little distracted and distant, that our schedules were out of synch – and yet held out the hope that Christmas would be the marker when all of that would change.

Christmas Morning
The preparations were complete.

I had decorated the house, put up a Christmas tree, and under it had placed three gifts.

I had seen Cody look at the tree and what must have seemed like a sparse haul – but had smiled inwardly, hoping that it would make the surprise more thrilling for the boy.

As the days had ticked off and Christmas approached, I felt nervous. I had his Gramma’s blessing, I had thought through everything, and yet I was still filled with – well, I should admit it: I was filled with fear.

I was afraid about how big a change I was making, I was afraid of what other people might think, but most of all I was afraid of how he would react.

On Christmas morning, Cody showed up at my door as planned. I had told him I had a few things to give him and wanted some time with him alone.

He carried a gift for me as well which I opened as he got settled on the couch. It was a lovely first-edition book that stunned me with its thoughtfulness.

Then I looked at the boy. He sat in a floppy pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt: the kind any 20-year old boy might wear when lounging around the house.

He wasn’t diapered: he had taken his night diaper off to exchange gifts with his Gramma and have breakfast together.

Choices to Come
“Cody, I have four gifts for you,” I said. “And I want you to understand something.”

He nodded, glancing under the tree where only three gifts were clearly visible.

“Son, now listen carefully.”

He looked at me….and I saw a look in his eyes that startled me. It was a look of apprehension, of fear, a look that seemed to hold back tears. My heart started pounding as I was flooded with a sudden premonition that the worst might come true and he would say “No”.

“There are…well, there are four gifts,” I almost stammered, a sense of apprehension now in both of us. “And I want you to know that you can accept or decline each gift.”

He looked at me and I can’t say what was going through his mind. Did he think this was the day he would be told it was over? That he would be punished for being wrong? For needing something that boys his age shouldn’t need?

“I’ll explain with each gift son, but at any time you can just say no.”

His face relaxed, but only slightly. He had a choice. He didn’t know what the choice would be, but having a choice held for him a slim ray of hope.

The Gifts

Gift One
I handed him the first gift. He held it in his hands and looked at me.

“This gift is because I love all of you,” I said. “It’s something I know you want and would help me stay connected with you, and help you stay connected with the world too.”

He carefully unwrapped it revealing the latest Smart Phone. It had all the features and was the best on the market. He had been talking about it for months and he broke out into a crooked grin.

“Awww wow,” he said. “Thanks so much Josh, it’s what I wanted – sooooo coool.”

I watched him as he tugged it out of the box and started flipping it around in his hands. He looked for all the world like a happy 20-year old on Christmas Day – happy but cool.

“I take it you say yes to that one,” I said, smiling. He nodded happily.

“That gift represents that I love all of you, all of your interests and hopes.” I said.

He grinned and nodded, as if he had accepted that in some ways he was just a 20-year old boy who liked cool things.

Gift Two
The second gift was larger and heavier. I pulled it below his feet where he sat in the couch.

“Now, this one you’ll understand. And it’s your first big choice.”

He glanced over at me.

“Open it,” I said.

He tore back the wrapping paper revealing a box. As he opened the top of the box and saw what was inside his body slumped perceptibly. I saw a shimmer in his eyes and what looked like tears forming.

I shuffled over on the couch and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“These diapers are for you, Cody,” I said.

I pulled out one of the sealed up bundles of diapers. They were bright white with babyish patterns on them.

I watched his reaction. This would be the first time he would imagine wearing diapers with such childish prints. As I unsealed the package and pulled out one of the crinkly diapers, I explained his decision:

“But Cody, your decision isn’t just whether you want these diapers.” He looked at me, confused, emotions rushing across his face. “Your decision is whether you want to wear diapers full time. To always be in diapers, day or night.”

I paused and waited. I know what I imagined – hesitation, maybe, emotion, excitement.

But I was not prepared for him to burst suddenly into tears, to collapse against me, blubbering and crying like a little boy.

“But you don’t….you don’t….want me…don’t want me…in them! You’re going to…..punish me for it!”

“What? Cody! What would give you that idea?”

As I held him, crying in my arms, I tried to soothe him by rubbing his back, stroking his hair. As he cried, he gulped out the story of what he had heard – and of his belief that his Gramma and I were conspiring to punish him for wanting to wear diapers.

At that point, I started crying myself – torn apart inside at the boy’s misunderstanding, his sullen mood of the past weeks now clear to me.

“Awww Cody, I’m so sorry….you misunderstood,” I said as I soothed the crying boy, explaining to him simply that he had only heard a part of our discussion – that we would never punish him, that we loved him.

Yet even my assurances did not seem to soothe the sobs, the way his body almost convulsed with emotions as I held him.

And then knew what to do.

A Diapering and An Answer
I pried him off me and gently lay him on the couch. I slipped his shorts and underwear down and guided him to lift his bum so I could slip the babyish diaper under him.

I pulled the diaper up at the front, adjusting it carefully, admiring a bit how it looked, how it crinkled, how it started to hug his hips as I pulled it into place. I then carefully taped it up with the two large tapes and adjusted it at the waist.

As I diapered him I watched as the tears turned from gulps and sobs into something lighter. As I put him in the childish diaper, as I looked at how it fit at his waist almost to his belly button, I also watched as his body seemed to almost collapse with relief.

His face slackened, his limbs became loose, and the feeling of the diaper seemed to transform him into a feeling that I imagined felt….well, felt safe.

“Awww, look at you in your cute little baby diaper,” I said. And he almost gurgled in response, bringing his hand involuntarily towards his mouth. “It’s OK baby, suck your thumb. Such a cute baby boy in your diaper.”

I smiled gently down at him and saw him blush pleasurably – at the word “baby”? At being given permission to suck his thumb? I’m not sure – but the look had the effect of easing my own anxieties.

“Now baby….it’s your choice. I will never punish you for saying yes, and I will never punish you for saying no. But you can wear your diapers always if you want. No more potty, no more undies, just your diapers. It’s up to you.”

I looked in his eyes which were still brimming with tears. With a blush and a slight tilt of his head he nodded “Yes”.

The Third Gift
Cody lay on his back as I brought the third gift to him. He looked up at me, his features now almost glowing – the Cody who melted my heart, the 20-year old who looked to me like a little boy had returned. The bundle of anxiety replaced with softness, vulnerability in his face and body.

I had to help him unwrap the third gift….his hands fumbled a little and he kept slipping his thumb back in his mouth.

What spilled out looked at first like a baby blue t-shirt, but I held it up and watched his reaction as he realized that it was a cute babyish romper with snaps between the legs. The soft cloth probably looked snuggly to the boy, the baby blue color soothing, the careful stitching assuring.

I carefully did up one of the snaps at the legs so he could hear the ‘click’ and realize how snug the romper would be around his diaper, and how easy changes would be.

And then I saw him beam and his eyes widen as he noticed what was on the front. I saw him focus on the teddy bear patch on the romper and the words underneath that read:

“Daddy’s Baby Boy”

He blinked through new tears that welled up in his eyes and looked at me.

“This is your choice too son. But it’s a choice I’ve made as well,” I said in soft soothing tones. “I had this made especially for you – and what it says on it has a very special meaning. I’ve thought long and hard about this, I’ve worried and wondered and yet know that every part of me wants you to say yes.”

He was already lifting himself up so he could wrap his arms around me and I held mine out in return.

I found myself hugging him tightly before I could even finish explaining his choice.

I held him and stroked his back, his neck, his crinkly diapered bottom.

“Will you let me be your Daddy,” I asked, choking back my tears.

And to this day, there is one gift amongst all the gifts I have received and it is perhaps the only one that truly matters.

Because for all the gifts that the universe gave me, for all the gestures large or small that people have made, for all the things, or rewards, or items that people have given, the tangible goods the world provided me, the house or the friends or my health or the places I have seen, the greatest gift of all was when he said:

“Yes, Daddy. Yes.”