A special thanks to Anthony for the following story. It is, without a doubt, one of the best that I’ve read about the special relationship that can develop between two people – and about the feelings and experiences of being a ‘daddy’.

One of the things I love about the story is that it takes time to develop – and, I think, shows how a relationship deepens over times as both the ‘daddy’ and his little boy explore their feelings and learn about each other.

Enjoy – and please give Anthony a big thanks for sharing such a wonderful work! Stay tuned for lots more.

Author’s Notes:
Firstly: This story has been kindly hosted on, and only on ABDLDaddy.com. Please do not alter or redistribute.

Secondly: This is a work of pure fiction that involves two consenting adults. All characters and events are fictional and any similarities to anyone living or dead is coincidental.

Thirdly: Herein contain swear words and the occasional use of blasphemy; if this offends you in anyway it’s best if you stop reading.

Fourthly: The story is set in the United Kingdom, so expect some British colloquialisms. If you don’t understand them that’s what Google and a good dictionary is for.

Fifthly: I hope you enjoy.

Part One, Chapter One

“Erm…Hi… Andrew Northcross?” he said after I opened the door. I looked down at my would-be lodger. He was slim and cute as a button; pale with dark hair and eyes with clothes that just hung off him, “I’m Tim, Tim Myers. We spoke on telephone last week.”

“Hello, Tim. Come in and have a look at the place.” He stepped in, and I gave him the grand tour of the house I could barely afford to live in. I had many sleepless nights thinking about my current financial woes and decided that the best way to get some surplus cash would be to rent out a room in my home.

“So, whereabouts have you come from?”

“Edinburgh,” he said.

“That’s a long way to come.”

“It’s eight hours in the car.”

“Have you being room searching all day?” I asked.

“Yeah, I found a place that was nice, but I’m allergic to cats, and the lady had about four of them.”

“Oh, I can see how that would be problematic. I haven’t got any pets if that helps. I did used to have a corn snake once,” I said, trying to make small talk.

“Really? That sounds pretty cool.”

“Well it was, until it got loose and my neighbour found it in her garden and killed it.” I turned to look at Tim again. “Actually she screamed the entire street down, and then she killed it.” I smiled, Tim laughed.

Tim had been the first one to contact me; he said he was twenty-five – which surprised me as he didn’t look it. He was a young graduate starting a job and had to move from home to the other side of the country.

I showed him the living room, kitchen, and pointed towards the utility room. He seemed impressed by what he saw.

“If you follow me upstairs, you’ll see over there is my office-come-study where you’ll find me should you need to during the day. That’s my bedroom should you need me in the night. That’s the bathroom and toilet.” We walked towards the largest of the spare rooms. “And this is where you’d be sleeping.” He walked in, looked at the room and nodded. “Twin bed, a double wardrobe and chest of drawers. The power socket is close to the desk should you need to charge a laptop and a night stand complete with a lamp.”

“This is nice.”

“I have bed sheets, mattress and pillows so you won’t need to bring any. It’s £400 at the start of the month, and that includes everything, heat, water, broadband… food, the lot. Provided you don’t go crazy with thirty minute showers, start phoning China or turn the heating up at the first sign of cold I think we’ll be just fine,” I said looking down at him – I say look down, he was only about a head shorter than me.

“I’ve got some other places to look at today, but I like it here though. You’ve got a nice house, and I guess it’s close to where I work. Plus four hundred for everything is a bargain.”

“I’m pleased you like it,” I smiled and walked him out of the bedroom and down to the front door. “Would you mind letting me know anyway. I’ve had a couple of other people phoning up interested. I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt before I show them the house.”

“OK, I will do. I’ll phone you tomorrow.”

I opened the door, and he stepped out and I shook his hand.

“It was nice meeting you, Tim. I looked forward to hearing from you.”

“Yeah, OK, see you later,” he said. We shook hands, and he walked towards the drive. I closed the door behind him, watching him walking down the path and into his car. I watched him as he picked up a notepad and a map from the front passenger seat. He drove away slowly. When I couldn’t see him any more I went into the living room and sat down on a chair.

For the next few hours I couldn’t stop thinking about the handsome young man that I showed around my house. If I wanted anyone to move in here, I wanted it to be him.

Every time the phone rang I jumped up, and my heart skipped a beat when I answered. I kept expecting and hoping to hear his voice. I was immensely happy when he did phone me up.

“Hello?” I answered the phone.

“Hi Andrew, it’s Tim.”

“Oh hello, Tim,” I said trying to sound calm, my heart thumping.

“Yeah, I’ve just phoned to say that if it’s still OK with you I’d like to move in next Monday.”

“No, Tim, that’s fantastic. Do you know what time on Monday you’d be coming?”

“It’ll be after six in the evening.”

“Great,” I said feeling elated. We talked a bit more than I hung up the phone, and for the rest of the day I felt more like an excited four year old boy being told Christmas had come early rather than a forty-six year old man. I sighed knowing the next week was going to drag on.

Chapter Two

In the week before Tim arrived he phoned me a couple of times asking all kinds of different questions, ranging from reference requests, to where he could park his car, each one I was happy to answer. I offered to cook him a meal when he arrived which he accepted.

The day finally came and I saw Tim’s car pull up. It was filled with boxes and cases. He rang the doorbell and I opened it. I welcomed him with another hand shake.

“Hello, Tim, it’s good to see you again,” I said smiling. “Would you like a hand with your things?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” I took a few of the boxes that he brought to the door. He followed me up stairs. We walked to his room; I had already given it a once-over with the vacuum cleaner and made his bed.

“OK, I think all my stuff should fit in here,” he said looking at the space available. We went back to his car and got all the boxes and cases from the back seat and boot and left them by the front door.

“Do you want a cup of tea or coffee?” I asked.

“A cup of tea would be fantastic,” he said, and I went in the kitchen and left him to finish unpacking.

I walked into his room with a cup in hand. He was in the middle of setting up a games console to a portable TV. For some reason seeing this made me think I’d been tremendously shallow in wanting this young man to move in. I hoped he wasn’t a lager lout and a fuckwit who expected a free ride and spent the rest his time fucking anything with a skirt.

“Oh, thank you.” He smiled and took the cup from me.

He’s polite. He’s probably not that bad.

“You getting your priorities right?” I joked, gesturing to the TV and games console.

“What? Oh yeah, got to make sure I’ve got enough room for my entertainment master system,” he joked back. He began to rummage in his bag and took out some shower gel. “Is it OK if I use your shower?” he asked.

I showed him where I kept the towels and spare bed sheets and how the shower worked. I said that dinner would be ready in about twenty minutes and I would give him a call when it was. I headed downstairs, and I left him to it.

Twenty minutes later he came into the kitchen looking and smelling better than he had done after his long drive. He sat down, and I handed him a plate of steaming hot food.

“Thanks, Andrew,” he said.

“Please, call me Andy,” I insisted.

We spent the rest of the evening talking and getting to know each other a little better, talking about our likes and interests. He said that when he finished school he did a bit of travelling and only in the last few years had he gone to University to get a qualification and find something useful to do with it. He talked about his job and explained he was on a one-year graduate placement.

“Yeah, it was kind of last minute, so I guess I’m lucky I found something – What do you do then?” he asked.

“I’m a solicitor.” I said and took out my wallet and handed him one of my business cards.

“Oh right, what else you going to do with a name like Northcross?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I laughed. Tim was about to hand me the card back. “No, you keep that. There’s a phone number should you need to phone me due to a life or death situation when I’m working.”

“Or should I need to sue my employer for asbestos poisoning,” he teased.

“Or that,” I smiled back. I decided that I liked him.

Tim came across and being polite and well-mannered and offered to wash up after we ate. I offered him a beer which he accepted and the pair of us talked some more. We got on like a house on fire.

“Oh hang on, I’ve go something for you,” he said and headed to his room. He came back with some sheets of A4 paper. It was the Licence to Occupy Agreement I forwarded him in the post.

“You understood most of it then?” I asked.

“You wrote it in legalese!” he stated, looking at me.

“Hazard of the profession,” I said and shrugged. “It’s more or less to cover my own backside and so we know where we stand should one of us decide this isn’t working out. The caveats are basically: set up a standing order, pull your own weight and clean up after yourself.”

“Well, I think I can manage that.”

“Fantastic!” I said and pulled out a set of keys from my pocket and handed them to him. “In that case: Welcome to number 39!”

Chapter Three

“Morning,” he said as he walked in the kitchen the next day. I’d had already been up for an hour or so and was eating some breakfast.

“Morning, you sleep well?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied. I glanced over at Tim standing by the kitchen counter. He was in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of loose boxer shorts. I couldn’t stop staring. He wasn’t just slim, he was scrawny. I’d seen more fat on a Mars bar.

“I know,” he said and turned around, I think he felt me staring at him. “I know I’ve got the physical appearance of a recovering crack addict.”

“And you’re not modest either,” I replied. He looked at himself and shrugged.

“As if you’ve never seen this one hundred times before – I thought you said you used to play rugby?”

“You look NOTHING like a rugby player,” I laughed.

He grabbed some breakfast and sat down.

…

In the month that Tim had been living with me he had settled in nicely and had taken my offer of making himself at home to heart. Facebook seemed to have downloaded itself on to my iPad. He had a fondness for leaving his shoes on the stairs, and his toiletries had taken over the bathroom.

He was really good company and was more than prepared to help with housework and cooking. I took a real shine to the young man, and as that one month became two and three I started to do more and more for Tim; he would come in from work and find his bed made and a meal cooked for him.

“You didn’t have to do my laundry,” he said one day when he discovered his clothes ironed and folded in his room.

“I had nothing better to do,” I said. He smiled and thanked me; I did all his laundry from that week on.

He arrived home one evening after going for a couple of drinks with a few friends he made at work. I was sitting in the kitchen with my accountant and good friend Darren.

“Hello?” he asked coming through the door.

“I’m in here,” I said from the kitchen.

Tim walked in and was taken back a little when he saw Darren.

“Oh, hello,” Tim said sounding a little shy.

“Tim, this is Darren,” I said.

“Hi, Tim, it’s nice putting names to faces,” Darren said to him.

Tim offered us a cup of tea each and made it for us. He took his own cup and made his way to his room. Darren’s eyes followed Tim out of the room.

“Andrew? Your lodger is… well… a handsome chap; was that an accident by any chance?” Darren asked.

“What on Earth are you accusing me of?”

“Being lonely… and horny.”

“That’s a crime now is it?” We looked at each other and laughed.

“No Darren, he’s a nice lad.”

Darren and I continued to work for about half an hour. I was by the kitchen counter making more drinks and Tim walked back in.

“I didn’t leave me keys in here?” he asked and walked over next to me.

“Doesn’t look like it,” I said back to him. Tim quickly scanned the rest of the room and left again. I finished making the drinks, and I sat next to Darren. He was staring at me.

“What?” I asked.

“He looks like you,” he replied.

“Who does?”

“Tim, he looks like you.”

“No he doesn’t,” I said.

Tim walked back in the kitchen and took a bottle of water out of the fridge.

“I left them in my coat pocket,” he said. He turned around and saw Darren and I looking at him.

“Oh-kay…” he said sounding a little freaked out and went back upstairs.

Darren looked at me with a shit-eating grin.

“Yes, yes, he does,” I agreed.

Chapter Four

That Friday evening, after diner, Tim and I washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. I poured two glasses of wine and gave Tim one. He was sitting in the living room. We chatted for a bit then Tim finished his wine and made his excuses to go to his room.

“You’re not staying?” I asked.

“Nah, I’ve just bought a game, and I was going to make a start on it.” He walked over to the TV in the corner and started talking in a half joke-half sulk “but of course it would be nice to play on a really big HD TV rather than that postcard sized thing I’ve got.”

“What game is it?” I asked.

“Batman,” he said.

“It’s not racing of football is it?”

“No,” he said flatly. “It’s Batman. You play Batman and beat-up dudes.”

“Oh, go on then, bring your console down. You can’t say I don’t do anything for you.”

“Really? Cool!” he said and headed to the door. “You’re all right for an Englishman, Andy.” I heard him say as he walked towards his room.

He came back down with his console, a controller and a few cables and knelt in front of the TV screen. I walked up to him and Tim flinched and winced when I placed my hand on his shoulder when I asked him if he needed a hand. Tim seemed to do this every time I made any physical contact with him; I wanted to ask him why, but I was sure I wouldn’t like the answer.

We spent the rest of the night getting slowly drunk, and I sat there watching him play his game and offering helpful observations such as: “hit him instead of being hit,” and “you’re not very good at playing computer games are you?” Later into the evening, Tim had moved from the couch onto the floor. I came into the room with some beers.

“So, where’s Robin in all this?”

“What’s that?” he asked not turning away from the screen.

“Batman and Robin,” I said. “Where’s his sidekick?”

“Oh, they probably didn’t include him because he makes Batman gay,” Tim said casually, focusing on the screen.

“You what?” I laughed.

“Robin makes Batman gay. Think about it: who’s Batman’s girlfriend?”

“Erm… he doesn’t have one.”

“Where does Batman live?”

“Oh,” I thought for a second. “Wayne Manor?”

“And who does he live with?”

“Robin… and Alfred, the butler.”

“Right!” Tim said and he paused his game. He turned around to face me. “So think about it: a millionaire lives in this big house and has this butler. He doesn’t live with a woman, but he lives with this younger guy instead. Middle aged man, toy boy and butler. Bruce Wayne is practically living an older gay man’s fantasy,” Tim looked at me. Neither of us spoke. For what seemed like hours.

“Well, this is awkward,” he said.

“What do you mean, Tim?” I asked not trying to sound defensive.

“Well, you’re gay, right?”

“W… w… what you talking about?” I really hated having these conversations.

“Oh, come on,” he said. “You’re a good looking guy, and I find it hard to believe that you’re not married, or divorced, and you don’t have any kids knocking about… and, it’s kinda obvious. I don’t give a shit. It’s cool, and…”

Being ask drunk as I was I couldn’t stop myself from saying what popped into my head.

“…Well what about yourself? I find it hard to believe there isn’t some cute girls where you work. I’ve never heard you try and sneak one in and out of the house in the small hours of the morning. You never talk about any girls you like, and how many times have you gone out with one since you’ve been here?”

“I was getting to that!”

“What?”

“Am gay too,” he said flatly. Tim sat there and stared at me. Looking sheepishly as if he regretted his homosexual interpretation of Batman. “So…”

We sat there in an awkward silence.

“Look, Tim, this doesn’t mean we have to run upstairs and fuck each other. I wouldn’t anyway; you’re like… family. At least give me a hug,” I sighed. “Let me know what I’m missing out on.” He laughed slightly and got up from the floor. We wrapped our arms around each other and hugged. I felt Tim’s shoulders relax and his whole body ease as if he was in a newly found state of repose – it was as if his body was sighing with relief.

His frame was made of nothing but skin and bone. “Jesus, Tim, I think I need to feed you some more chicken dinners.” I patted his back and he sat next to me.

He sat there for a couple of seconds before finally he picked up his controller and started to play his game again. All that drinking made me sleep sometime after that. I woke at about 1.30 in the morning to Tim turning his game off.

“I’m going to bed. Night, Andy,” he said.

I was practically still asleep.

“Oh, night,” I said and stirred. Tim left the room and left me sitting there. “What the hell happened there?” I thought to myself. “You’re like family.” I must have sounded like an idiot.

Middle aged man and toy boy. No, I didn’t think about Tim that way at all. I wanted us to be like a family. I wanted to do more than cook his meals and iron his clothes. I wanted nothing more than to look after him, and make sure he was all right. I was happy Tim had chosen to live with me, and I didn’t mind picking up after him. I thought to myself how I was treating him more like a big kid rather than the young man that he is.

Shorty after that I went to bed. I stared at the ceiling thinking about Tim again. He was good company and a very nice young man. I made myself comfortable and went to sleep.

But with spring coming (and I don’t know about where you live, but we’re getting a very early sneak preview where I live!) it’s time to check your baby boy’s wardrobe and make sure you’ve got his clothes organized for a day at the park, the zoo, or the playground.

I was thinking of shortalls today because I just ordered some from the incomparable Ms. Loraine on eBay. And while I suppose you could dress a little guy in these adorable Pooh shortalls in the winter – they really deserve to be saved for the first trip to the park once the warmer weather comes.

The Perfection of the “Click”
As a Daddy to an adult baby, snaps might seem like something that’s simply practical.

With your little guy dressed in his shortalls, diaper checks and changes can be a real hassle if there are no snaps along the legs. Snaps let you check your little guy without a lot of fuss. And if he needs a change, you can lie him down on the crinkly change mat and put him into a clean diaper without needing to undress him or worry about the shoulder straps.

But for the adult baby or little boy, snaps provide a different kind of assurance. The slight ‘click’ they make as Daddy does up the snaps on his onesie or along the legs of his sleeper are subtle reminders that he’s a baby boy who needs his diapers.

Snaps remind him that Daddy needs to check him and change him. Snaps are a reminder that even though he’s just been put into a nice clean crinkly diaper, it won’t be long when Daddy will need to slip a finger along the leg of his diaper to see if he’s wet.

And, I can’t help thinking, there’s something reassuring and ‘safe’ about snaps. Or at least it makes me feel that a little guy is secure – which is maybe why I like shortalls so much – with the shoulder snaps, it’s like a double layer of protection!

What Are Your Favorite Outfits with Snaps?
What about you? Are snaps something that you know Daddy likes because they’re practical? Or is there something about them that make you feel safe and snug?

And do you have a favorite outfit or item of clothing with snaps? Send along a photo if you like, and I’ll add it to the gallery below!

And in the meantime – get a snap on it – spring is coming!

Christmas was a special day for Cody: starting the day with worry, it had ended with him saying ‘yes’.

Yes to being put back in diapers. And yes to what felt like a new word: Daddy.

But what does being ‘Daddy’s baby boy’ really mean? What was the mystery of the ‘fourth gift’? And will Josh ever accept his true feelings about being Cody’s ‘Daddy’?

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

This, the final chapter of the Cody story, is in celebration of you and your support. Over the next few days, the site will reach its 2,000,000th ‘view’. Your support, comments and e-mails inspire me – in much the way Cody has inspired his new ‘Daddy’.

Thanks to Dunston the Lion, one of the many inspirations for this site.

People talk a lot about firsts: their first car, their first job, their first kiss. Firsts have the rush of being new…filled with discovery, feeling, excitement and sometimes a lesson learned or two.

And I’ll remember all the firsts: the first time I met Cody, the first time he blushed, the first time I diapered him and the way his eyes filled with an almost far-away bliss.

Of all the ‘firsts’ we shared, maybe none was as special as our first Christmas together and the way it contained, like a series of nested gifts, firsts of its own: the first day he was put back in diapers full time, the first time I dressed him in a romper, and the first time he called me Daddy.

I’ll never forget the rush of feeling.

I had asked him if he would let me be his ‘Daddy’ and with tears in his eyes he had nodded and said ‘Yes, Daddy, yes”.

Did we hug for a minute, or an hour? I remember the feeling of him in my arms, I remember my hand running up and down his back, I remember the way I stroked his hair like a Dad would stroke the hair of a young child.

But I don’t remember how long we held that hug: it felt like it contained everything.

Not just a moment of love and connection but something wider, something that felt a lot like forever: it held pasts that were tangled up in pain and confusion and were suddenly resolved in a single moment; and it contained futures that were suddenly – well, that were suddenly new.

A Past, Behind
It’s hard to imagine what it felt like for Cody. He was lucky he had his Gramma Joan. But I wonder if that was enough to erase the pain of abandonment – parents who had left him scarred, and memories that were perhaps at the root of his wet beds and pants, his gradual return to diapers.

I wondered if calling me Daddy would ever replace those lost moments of childhood tenderness. I wondered if in that hug, on Christmas morning, I could help him turn a page.

Or….perhaps, write a new book altogether. To live a life in which he could learn that the love of a ‘Daddy’ should be unconditional and forever, that a parent might disappoint or get things wrong, but they would always be there – and that they had tangible ways to show their love and acceptance: a diaper check, a change, a kiss on the forehead as Daddy tucks them in at night, a gentle pat on the bum as they scoot off to play.

All of those feelings, all of those thoughts, were held in that hug.

Because I had spent months sorting out my own feelings about a boy who had surprised me, moved me, and revealed to me my own sense that everything that had come before, all of my past and all of my experiences, were just a rehearsal for meeting Cody.

The hug, being called Daddy: I had found my place – and all my feelings of protectiveness and gentle care had found a home in a young man who was also, now, my baby boy. And I cried too as I held him, as the hug expanded out to turn a page on the past while tracing the outlines of a future in which we were, at last, who we were both born to be.

Daddy’s Baby Boy
“My baby boy is wet,” I said as I held Cody in my arms that morning. My hand gently pat his bum and felt the spreading warmth of a wet diaper.

Relaxed and emotional in my arms, there was a gentle hissing sound as Cody used his diaper and I felt another rush of feeling as I realized that even being held in a close hug he could wet freely.

It almost felt as if wetting his babyish looking diaper was a kind of gesture to me – another kind of hug, a symbol that he now needed me in so many different ways.

I think he even gurgled slightly as I held him, I felt his head nod slightly ‘yes’, and I pat his bum and felt the reassuring warmth and a sense of calm certainty that he truly did need to be kept in diapers and thus might always truly need me too.

We hugged a while longer and then I gently pulled back, ruffled his hair and touched his cheek, and then guided him onto his back so I could change his wet diaper.

His eyes still glistened with tears as I cleaned him up and taped the diaper up snugly.

“Does my boy want to wear his new romper?”

I searched his face for hesitation but there was none. Instead, Cody nodded a vigorous yes.

I helped him in to the babyish clothing and carefully did up the snaps along the legs, glancing now and then into Cody’s eyes. He seemed to blush slightly as he looked down at the romper and he got that familiar far-away look in his eyes as I did up the snaps.

“You’re such a cute looking little toddler,” I said, a slight hesitation in my voice. He nodded slightly and I continued: “Do you like being Daddy’s baby boy?”

And he nodded again.

And perhaps I wondered for a second how long he had held those feelings in, or whether perhaps he was just discovering them now. What I knew was that when I looked down I saw the body of a young man, but what I truly saw was a toddler and I was proud to be his Daddy.

The Fourth Gift
Seeing Cody’s nod, I felt a sense of confidence in my fourth gift: the key.

I had wondered for weeks if I was taking too big a risk: asking Cody to accept too much, opening the door to things he might find too big a leap into the unknown.

But seeing him in his romper with the words “Daddy’s Baby Boy” embroidered on the front, seeing the reassuring bulge of his diaper, and hearing the way he cooed slightly as I cuddled him, I decided it was worth the risk.

“Cody, there is ONE more gift,” I said. “And like the other ones, you can say no.”

He looked up at me and his eyes were filled with a gentle innocence and love. “OK, Daddy,” he said.

I pulled out a small box and handed it to him. Opening it, he found a key. He looked up at me with a questioning glance.

“Now, don’t answer just yet son. But that’s a key to the house. And I need you to know two things. The first is that I’ve discussed this with your Gramma Joan. And she agrees that if you say yes, you can move in with me.”

Cody’s eyes widened and his mouth opened, ready to form a word. But before he did I brought a finger gently to his lips.

“Before you say anything, baby, I need to show you something. And then you can decide.”

Which is when I led him to the nursery.

Baby, First
There were a lot of first with Cody. And all of them were special, all of them became part of our history together, our love, the growing feeling of being Daddy and baby boy.

But I suppose seeing his nursery for the first time released something in Cody that would forever change him – because although I was nervous about his reaction, I couldn’t know that as he glanced around the room he was filled with something unexpected: a feeling that he had arrived, at last, to a safe place he could call home.

I watched his face as he glanced around, taking in the soft blue color of the walls, the toy box in the corner, the shelves stacked with diapers and plastic pants, the change table with the crinkly mat and babyish patterns, and most of all the crib.

I guess he was shocked at first. Or maybe he felt like he was imagining what he saw.

I know now that it was his deepest secret, his lifelong dream – and that he had suppressed the feelings for so long that it was like they were being pulled into the light as if from some dark cupboard.

I remember him walking to the crib and gently putting his hand on the bars. And then I remember him turning to me and almost collapsing into my arms.

“Yes, Daddy,” he said, the moment that would change our lives forever as simple as two words.

Beyond the First
There were a lot of firsts that day. And all of my firsts with Cody were special and contained lifelong memories.

But there is something I have discovered too: it is not really the first that matters, it’s the second, and the third, and the 1,000th.

That night, Cody slept in his crib for the first time. And I remember the sense of peace and joy I felt when I raised the bars of his crib and heard the reassuring ‘click’.

But I remember just as well the second time, the third, the hundredth.

The ritual of waking Cody in the morning and seeing him in his footed sleeper, hugging his plushy – it is the ritual which matters, the fact it happens every day, the sense of peace that grows over time, which takes you beyond the first into being a part of your life.

Firsts start out new but they gain a rhythm: the first diaper change leads to others; the first bubble bath leads to bath time each evening; the first trip to the zoo is followed by other ‘outings’ with your baby boy; the first morning in his high chair leads to each day starting with him being fed by his Daddy, a bib securely tied around his neck.

First times matter because of all the other times that follow.

My first day as Cody’s Daddy mattered most not just because it was the first, but because it opened the promise of all the days to come.

The first of many and then, at last, the first of ‘forever’.

Morning
It’s almost dawn.

The horizon is pale and it won’t be long before it turns red, glows, and it will be one of those perfect days, one of many.

Today is special, one-of-a-kind, and although I haven’t slept, I feel a sense of calm and peace whose energy will carry me through the day.

The night held memories, emotions, dreams.

At times I felt like I was floating – just like that Christmas so many months ago.

At times I felt like crying with joy, remembering little things: a crinkle, a hug, a pacifier left on the kitchen counter or splashes on the floor after a bath.

Today is a special day and yet I felt nervous and unprepared.

You had given me a gift – the gift of being you, and yet I felt my own gifts on this special day wouldn’t be enough to explain what you mean to me.

These past months have brought me joy, a hundred firsts and countless moments of love and amazement.

Maybe I’ve managed to capture some of those moments with my story.

They’re just words. But maybe my words will be enough this time.

In a few hours, I will officially adopt you Cody, and you will be my son forever. My baby boy. My light, my love, and the extension of my spirit.

I have tried, tonight, to write down what you have meant to me, what it has felt like to come to know you, love you, and to discover both the fine young man and the adorable baby boy.

It’s almost dawn and soon you’ll shift in your crib, I’ll come and wake you, and I’ll get you ready for the day that you officially become my son.

Accept these words as my gift to you my baby boy: the story of how we became Daddy and son, and how we came to arrive at the future we have together.

And for each word please know that there should be a million more.

And that from this day forward each hug I give you as your Daddy will be real, and will contain them all.

~ The End ~

Thanks to BabySpencey for the Photos!

As you get ready for the day, you glance into the living room and see your little boy playing with his Legos or plushy, dressed in his diaper and the cute t-shirt with the little cuddly bears on it.

You hear him make little gurgle noises as he plays, you watch as he sucks on his paci, and you see the happy face of….well, of a toddler or little boy – someone who looks like a grown man to a lot of the world, but who looks to you like a baby boy in diapers.

As you get ready to take your little guy out shopping there’s a part of you that wants to just slip him into a pair of overalls with snaps up the legs, or if it’s warm enough shortalls with a paci pinned to his shirt.

But being a Daddy to an adult baby means respecting limits – not just for your little guy, but for other people in the world too.

So is there a magic ‘limit’ you shouldn’t cross with your little boy in public? If you dress him in more ‘adult’ clothes does it mean you don’t recognize that he’s really just a baby boy who needs his Daddy and his diapers?

Safety and Boundaries

First, as a Daddy, the most important thing you can do is to help make your little guy feel safe to be who he is: an adult baby who needs to express the toddler inside, the little boy – but who also has an ‘adult’ side with responsibilities and friends and his own limits and boundaries.

Over time, you’ll discover what those boundaries are. Some little guys will have very few: they’re proud of who they are and don’t mind if all the world knows. It’s a decision they’ve made and you can feel comfortable respecting that decision.

Others might have school or jobs and for them it’s very important to have a balance between the ‘adult’ things they want in life and knowing that in spite of that they’re still your baby boy and need more than anything a lot of space to express the little sides of themselves and all the needs they have.

Establishing an understanding of what makes your little guy feel secure in the world is something that will change over time and the way that it changes is the reason you’re his Daddy: to be there as you build a safe ‘island’ in the world for who he is, and to explore new ways to care for him over time.

Diapered at the Mall

Once you understand your little guy’s limits….it’s also time to understand your own: your own needs and what makes you feel connected to your little boy.

For example, imagine you take your little guy to the mall to buy new shoes. Or to a movie to watch the new Disney movie. How would you feel as his Daddy if he didn’t have a diaper on?

For myself, keeping a little guy in diapers is an important way to let him know that you love him for being your little boy, and knowing he’s diapered makes me feel safe and secure.

Knowing that he’s protected and that he’ll need Daddy to check and change him is a special feeling for me and gives me an important sense of connection.

Even if a little boy is nervous about wearing diapers in public, your job as his Daddy is to make him feel secure and to gently protect him and make him know that everything will be all right.

BabySpencey Almost Ready for School

As his Daddy, you can diaper your little boy and dress him for a day out and know you’re making the right decision: a toddler needs his diapers, and you’re simply  fulfilling his needs.

He may be nervous, but in this case Daddy knows best: only you and your little guy will notice the crinkle as he walks down the street, or notice the diaper peeking up slightly at the back of his jeans.

Dressed for a Day
But other than diapers, how should you dress your little guy for a day out?

It might depend if you’re going for dinner with friends. Or maybe you’ve planned a Daddy/Son day at the zoo.

But I think of dressing a little boy for a day out as the ‘magic of the in-between’ – finding clothes and outfits that are somewhere ‘in-between’ adult and baby boy.

For example, a onesie with cute bears on it might be too babyish, but a t-shirt with Toy Story characters on it is ‘in-between’.

A paci on a ribbon might be too babyish, but a paci on a little silver chain can look like he’s a cool club kid (or gang member, I guess – so maybe it depends where you live! HAHA)

Or think of getting him some colorful sneakers with velcro straps instead of laces. Or a backpack with cartoon characters on them.

There are lots of ways to make sure your boy feels happy and comfortable being your little boy – without offending other people or stepping over boundaries.

As a Daddy you can be creative in making sure your adult baby boy always knows that you’re his Daddy and that there’s no ‘on/off’ switch for being little.

But what about you? If Daddy dressed you for a day out, what are your limits? What’s your favorite outfit for a trip to the movies or the mall? And do you mind when Daddy diapers you for a day at the park?

Two superstars! *wave hi to Floppy!*

You’re at school or work and you can’t focus. Every time you feel your diaper grow a little warmer under your jeans or pants you feel a little blush and remember your Daddy.

You can’t help slipping your hand in your pocket to feel your paci, and touching it reminds you that no matter where you are you are Daddy’s little boy regardless of what the rest of the world sees.

But today you’re distracted because there’s something on your mind. Something’s been gnawing at you and you really want to tell Daddy but every time you think of it you feel a flutter in your tummy and you feel your face turn red.

You spend the day working yourself up to telling him. You try to picture the conversation and you might even convince yourself: “I can be a bigger boy and just take a deep breath and get it out. I’ll tell him and then I’ll feel a lot better.”

Best Laid Plans
When you get home Daddy meets you at the door. You’re ready to just blurt it out. But the first thing he does is check your diaper and something inside you turns all soft and floaty.

Maybe Daddy senses it – but he takes care in changing your diaper first, putting you in a cute play suit, romper or shortalls.

Before you know it your plan to tell Daddy has, well, changed. And suddenly you find that it’s Daddy who starts the conversation.

Somehow he has sensed a feeling bubbling up inside you. He cuddles you on the couch and he can sense your body language, your tone of voice, the way you hug your plushy close to your chest.

And instead of you being the one to bring up a topic, it’s Daddy who says:

“Baby, what’s on your mind. You can tell Daddy.”

Being Safe to Be Little
Being a Daddy to an adult baby or little boy is filled with joy. But it’s also filled with lessons that might not seem obvious at first.

When you start a relationship with an AB or little boy there will be (and should be) lots of space for ‘adult’ talk.

An AB is both and adult and a baby. As a Daddy you are helping to give a safe, secure and trusting space for him to express the sides of himself that may have been bottled up for years, but which have been part of him since as long as he can remember.

You give assurance and trust by sharing ‘adult’ feelings and histories and by using those discussions to understand boundaries, triggers and how his ‘little’ side fits into his larger world view.

But over time, as your little guy feels more comfortable in being who he is, then he’ll start seeing you as a true parent figure.

More and more, you’ll find that he has difficult ‘shifting’ from a toddler or baby space into that mind-set when you first met.

Simple Secrets and Being a Daddy
Being a Daddy to an adult baby or little boy is filled with joy. But it’s also filled with lessons that might not seem obvious at first.

Your little guy will have things he really wants to say but will have difficulty saying them. When you first met him, it might have felt like he was happy to confess every fantasy, dream or desire – whether about being a little boy or more adult things.

But as time goes on, he will feel safe. He will sense your care and guidance. And he will increasingly look to you for direction and to sense the feelings that he needs protected or understood.

But this can be confusing, especially if you’re a first-time Daddy.

You’ll sense that your little guy has something on his mind, and you’ll immediately think it’s something important. The way he seems to bottle something up, the way he blushes as he tries to tell you, the way he pulls his blanky up so it covers his face – your mind will be spinning with scenarios and you’ll be expecting something ‘monumental’.

But remember, he’s your little boy. He’s your toddler. He’s diapered and dressed by you, bathed and changed by you.

And more often than not, the ‘big confession’ will be something simple:

- He spilled some juice on the floor and didn’t tell you
- He was mean to his plushy one night (your little guy will often have important ‘events’ related to his plushy) – maybe he forgot his plushy while he was watching cartoons and feels guilty about it
- When he was at school, he didn’t change his diaper as quickly as he should have because of circumstances
- He used a mild swear word and feels horrible about it.

As a Daddy, these might seem like trivial things.

They’re not.

Small things take on very big meanings for your little guy and you need to treat them with all of the assurance and understanding that you would for any toddler.

Baby Spencey - Cute Lil Boy (thanks for the photo!)

The Big Stuff of Being Little
And then there’s the ‘big stuff’. The most common things are related to confessions or boundaries.

These are the things where maybe your little guy really has done something really wrong and he knows it.

Or maybe he wants to ask you for something and it might be a major topic for him.

One example that comes to mind is a little guy who confesses to you that he wishes you would give him a proper bed time. Or maybe he’s unsure about your feelings about something like messy diapers and he wants to know what you think.

In all cases, the first thing to remember is that however you respond, he will be feeling vulnerable, possibly afraid, worried about whether he’ll upset you or scare you away, or concerned about the consequences of you saying no.

How a Daddy Responds

Every Daddy will have his own approach and it will depend on the topic, but I suppose there’s a few things that might help think through how you respond:

1. There are boundaries. Those boundaries should always be openly discussed and your respect for those boundaries should be absolute. Very common boundaries include things related to ‘adult’ touching, punishment, public displays, or family members. You need to know what those boundaries are and your respect for those boundaries is of absolute and paramount importance. You need to determine if the issue is related to those boundaries and address it accordingly.

2. So long as it’s within the safe space of the Daddy/son relationship and his (and your) boundaries are being respected, just remember: you’re the Daddy. Your decision will stand. You can ask his opinion, ask how he feels, but at the end of the day you’re in a position to decide what’s right, what makes sense, and what’s going to keep your little guy safe and secure.

3. Take your time. He might press you or want an answer, a response, but you should also feel very confident that you can take your time. You don’t need to solve every problem right now. Sometimes it’s better to wait a day or two, or to help a little guy deal with one issue at a time.

4. If you are disappointed, hurt or you feel he has done something bad or wrong, express it right away. If he has done something bad, hurtful or wrong the consequences of that on your feelings should be made clear. How you feel should be clear, how you will act about it can be deferred as you think about what he has done.

5. Keep an open mind, always. Maybe there are things he wants to explore which you’ve never thought about. You don’t respond immediately and can try to understand where his feelings are coming from. But also don’t let an issue linger too long – your job as a Daddy is to establish structure and safety for your little guy.

Fears and Joy

But most of all remember this: your little guy will be filled with joy at being able to express who he is. You have given him a gateway to that joy, just as he has given one to you.

Understand that this may be the most emotional, connected and important relationship he has been in with someone.

His greatest fear will be losing you, just as you will fear losing him.

No matter what he has done, no matter what he has asked for, no matter how small or big the secret or request – you need to respond honestly with your disappointment or uncertainty, but you also need to respond in the full knowledge that these things are not things that will break the bonds you have together.

You will learn and grow from these moments, and that have the potential to deepen the very special, sometimes fragile, but incredibly deep relationship between a Daddy and adult baby boy.

And finally – there’s an expression which should be adapted for your life as a Daddy.

It’s not “never go to bed angry”. It’s “never let him go to bed without a diaper”.

Because whatever happens, never let your little guy go to bed without knowing he’s still your little boy.

Make sure he has his diaper, his paci, and that one of his last memories of the day is Daddy tucking him in, kissing his forehead and saying: “I love you baby boy, and my world is better because of you.”

From Tumblr - credit anyone?

I wanted to send out a special thank you to one of our regular readers, and to share with you comments which I think are profound and heart-felt.

BabyJohnnie has really helped to put into words things that I find difficult to do. He has clearly thought a lot about what ‘adult baby’ means to the broader culture, and his comments always touch me, amaze me, and make me feel proud to be even loosely part of a community that can have such brilliant and wise contributors.

Yesterday, BabyJohnnie had this to say:

.. and the number of visiters to this site demonstrates how many people there are who crave the gentle nurturing love that is expressed here..

The media-driven world in which we now find ouselves is a noisy brutal crowded-out world, a world driven by fear, sexual pleasure, domination, requirement and demand, theat and litigation ..

As Pope Benedict once put it, humanity bellows and brays, and has forgotten how to sing and fly with the birds, or to be silent with the silent depths..

Many of the people who visit this site are no doubt already babies or daddies ( or, as with me, both !), but maybe some visiters are just people who feel instinctivly that this modern artificially created world is not a healthy place to be, who feel some itch of dissatisfaction, and who find here some hint or awareness that there may be other more gentle ways of being-in-the-world.

I find the huge growth in the numbers visiting this site encouraging. There are many, apparently, who are fascinated by a “counter culture” like the AB world.

Baby Johnnie (Sydney, Australia.)

And I’ll share this one as well:

Thank you for the insightful phrase “sensual caring”. Of course there is sensual delight in caring for a baby, or in being cared for as a baby.

This is the way it is in nature, and the way it must be.. How confused and unloved a baby of any age would feel if the mother ( or father ) who cared for him never felt a warm sensual thrill when hugging him or powdering him, touching and caressing his soft skin. Most mothers who breatfeed will testify that breastfeeding is a highly sensual bonding experience for both mother and child. Really, love that has no element of warm sensuality is not lover at all, but just some sort of duty.

In a dirty-minded media-brainwashed world most people can only understand this sensual delight in terms of “sexuality”, and some of us have been made to experience guilt or self-doubt, a fear that we might be “sexual perverts”, “in denial”, hiding behind an AB excuse.. But “sensual” does not necessarily imply “sexual”.

Thank you for your most tender and gentle website.

James ( Sydney, Australia ).

Now, I don’t really like to single out one person. Because whether you simply read this blog or comment I can assure you that every one of you makes a difference in my life.

I have found my own form of self-acceptance because of you, I read every comment, and I will often think about things you write or share for days afterwards.

You are all inspirations and I wish you all the best for 2012.

(Now, anyone want to volunteer to be the 2012 New Years Baby? )

Thanks D and Sammy for the photo!

There’s a little game people play: if you were stranded on a deserted island, what three people/books/movies would you want with you.

Today, I thought we’d play the game too!

But here’s the question (and yes, I’ve added two so it’s not such an agonizing decision):

If you were stranded on a deserted island (which magically has a crib and a lifetime supply of diapers) what five items would you want to bring with you?

Now, I suppose little guys will always look for sneaky ways to bend the rules. So you might put “my baby wardrobe!”….but I’m really interested in knowing what things you have a special attachment to.

Would you want onesies or rompers? Shortalls or your paci? Your plushy or your bottle?

Different little guys will have different things that make them feel special or that they have a special attachment to.

What are your five things?

Thank you Brandyn for the photos! *Snuggles!*

If you’re a new Daddy (or Mommy!) to the world of taking care of an adult baby or little boy, it can sometimes feel like you’re learning a new language. Or, at the very least, you’re learning an old language all over again!

Terms that seem like a contradiction will soon make perfect sense. An ‘adult baby’ is amazing because he is both – an adult who can talk to you about his day, a book he read, or what happened at school – and a little boy who has the gift of being able to express the tender sides of himself and who needs his Daddy to check his diapers and read him a story before bed.

In chat the other night, a relative newcomer to the community asked: “What’s a Big Bro?” and I realized that it was another term that might cause confusion because it has a meaning that is often very specific to certain communities.

In most cases, a ‘big brother’ (or sister) refers to someone who plays a caretaker role but who might need care also.

So, an adult baby might meet another “little”. They both feel young inside, they might both feel like toddlers, and they might both feel safe and secure in their diapers and snuggling their teddy bears.

But together, one of them might gravitate to being an “older brother” and he’ll play more of a caretaker role for his other little friend.

The Joy of Family
For many little guys, meeting a Daddy fills an important role in their life. They may have had a wonderful childhood, they may love their biological parents and have nothing but praise for them – and yet it’s often only through a “Daddy” that they can create a parental bond with someone who validates the feelings they have of being ‘little’.

Whether you’re a Daddy on-line, over a weekend, or full-time with a live-in baby boy and nursery to match, you’re providing a little guy with a safe space to be the toddler or baby that is a deep expression of who they truly are. This expression often doesn’t have a home at – well, at home.

And nor should it: most families provide an environment to ‘grow up in’. How well they provide that environment will vary. Yet the purpose of your biological family is to prepare you for a life ahead.

For an adult baby or little boy, the life they have ahead can include lots of things, but some of it will include exploring a side that usually feels like its been there forever: inside, they feel like an innocent toddler, a mischievous little boy, or simply someone who needs time to accept care and unconditional love.

Your role as a Daddy, for however long or brief the time, provides a safe space in which they can feel safe, secure, and accepted for being little.

Even Teddy is 'Chosen Family' for the adult baby!

These relationships are often expressed in family terms. Someone is a brother or sister, a big brother, a little brother, an Uncle or a Daddy.

They are often a short-hand for very specific kinds of relationships.

But what a Daddy can appreciate is that a little guy will often have a network of ‘relationships’. These relationships represent an important community of support – people your little guy can chat with, listen to, or go to for advice or guidance.

As a Daddy, you should encourage and learn to appreciate this larger ‘family’ that a little guy will often bring to his relationship with you. They may be people he wants to have play dates with (in person, chatting on-line, or playing video games with maybe) but who he certainly should stay in touch with.

While you give your little guy validation and love, it’s important for him (like any little guy!) to also have friends he can play with, who he respects, and who he can turn to for acceptance and understanding.

As a Daddy, you are part of a ‘chosen family’. Your little guy has accepted people into his life and has created relationships that hopefully validate who he is, that provide support, and that generate a sense of acceptance and mutual care and trust.

As a Daddy, you are entering a special circle of trust and care, and it’s important to acknowledge and respect your place in that chosen circle.

Who’s Your Family?
But who is your ‘chosen family’? What do you call members of that family? Do you have a big brother or sister, an Uncle or a special friend?

And what advice would you give to new Daddy’s to help them understand their role in your life? Would you want them to know your friends and ‘brothers’? What expectations would you have?

All-time record views! (Thanks Maxen for the photo)

I was confused. I had spent years struggling with my feelings about being a caretaker, a ‘Daddy’, and had a hard time knowing whether my feelings were valid. I didn’t know whether there was a place for my feelings in a world that often seems to focus on sexual pleasure over sensual caring, on domination over giving, on the requirements of love rather than loving unconditionally.

Through this blog, I set out to simply share my feelings and to hope that one or two people might share their own in response. Over time, your e-mails kept coming, you contributed through comments, and I feel like I know some of you very deeply although we’ve never met or chatted – you’ve simply made a comment, sent an e-mail, and I feel connected to you in a very special way.

In other cases I’ve lost the trail of the conversation – sometimes I’ve met you on-line or in person but the demands of life have made it difficult to stay connected over distance and time, and I wish I could apologize to anyone I’ve ever lost track of because the demands of life took my ‘on-line focus’ away.

Over the last three days over 14,000 visits to ABDLDaddy.com have also helped to break the record for traffic to the site. On Boxing Day we set a new record with 5,000 views, and today I woke up to find that I had 5,800 in one day, an all-time record.

I don’t care about the numbers – but when I set out I thought I might get a few dozen visits per day. Your interest and attention means a lot to me, and I feel so grateful for the gifts you give both to me and the world. Thank you.

This has become a community as much as a blog and I hope we can continue to share time together. So with a New Year coming – a gift back! I’d love to hear your ideas for future posts. Put them in the comments below or e-mail me! And hugs to everyone.

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.

Special thanks to Corey for the photo: Merry Christmas little one.

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.

Cody, Ready for Santa! (Thanks Corey for the Photo!)

“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.”