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Second Generation AB

Hi. I’m Tom. I’m 16. I thought I’d write the story of my childhood which was….unusual. Now if you’re reading this you will know what it’s all about. I am, well a teen-baby - I’m a teenager, but I like to be treated like a baby. I wear diapers, sometimes 24/7, and always at night, because I wet the bed. I like to use a pacifier and have a favourite teddy. I even sleep in a crib. I love being babied. But the thing is, and get this, not only do my parents know about my baby feelings – they encourage them. They always have. And that’s because – they’re adult babies themselves. Hence, the title.

I’m not alone in my situation. I’ve got two brothers, both younger than me, Rob, who is 13 and Wade, who’s 10. Although I say I was encouraged to enjoy being a baby and stay as much like one as possible – we all were - I wasn’t forced to become a teen baby (I found a T-shirt on the net, with ‘TEENBABY’ written on the back. Awesome!) I was just…….persuaded. And if my parents did, in a sense, abuse me then…..I’m glad. I love them and, most of the time, I love me. Even as a baby.

Incidentally, you’ll be wondering about my brothers. More about them later, but briefly Rob is not a tb, stopped wetting the bed before 5, and thinks we’re all crazy (though even he likes to baby Wade). And Wade? Completely the opposite. He’s never grown out of being a baby, always wears diapers, and is fed, carried, and fussed over by everyone. It’s sometimes difficult to get him out of the house and into the real world, in real boy clothes, but we love him and, of course, let him live the fantasy, at least until he’s 10. He’ll be an AB for sure.

So how did all this start? And would I be where I am now if my dad hadn’t discovered the glories of diapers in his boyhood? Probably not – but then most of you ABs out there got here without anything like the ease and happiness I did. I’m writing this story because, to many people, It is just how they would have liked their childhood to be – soft, warm, caring and … in diapers.

So. My first memories. Well I was a real baby at first, and as things began to swim into focus I discovered that I was a little more of a baby than my buddies. First, my parents made no real effort to toilet train me (except, about 4, to poo in potty, at least during the day) so I was in diapers. They explained to me that most kids didn’t need diapers much beyond 3 because they could control themselves, but that I would have difficulty, because it was a family thing - they wet themselves and wore diapers too (my dad wore diapers to bed every night, my mom sometimes. By the time I realised this was unusual it didn’t matter anymore, as you’ll find out). There was nothing wrong with this, odd yes, but that was the situation and there I was. I would always find it difficult to control my bladder, diapers were nice, and there was no problem, except in the heads of narrow-minded people. Well’ I didn’t care. Up until school at 6 – kept at home an extra year – I lived a blissful baby life and never knew there was anything wrong with it.

Of course things were odd, even apart from the constant diapers. I slept in a crib – do now too – and would be woken every morning by mom or dad, with a bottle of warm milk. They would remove my wet and stinky (usually) diaper as I supped it, then bath me, then diapered me for the day. Plastic pants on, even over disposables, then some kind of cute little boy clothes. If I’d finished the bottle they would plonk a pacifier in my mouth, as they dressed and cudlled and washed and changed their oldest baby. Mom or dad always dressed me, do to this day (I find it hard to do myself), and bottles and pacifiers were always in my mouth. Throughout the day I let myself go in the diaper whenever I felt the urge, and was changed frequently, always with love and cuddles and lots of praise. As you can imagine, I was perfectly happy.

Now I don’t know how much I really would have been wet and in diapers if I hadn’t been in this family. Certainly I would have wet the bed, but maybe grown out of it by now (actually I did stop for a short time, but then started again); as for the daywetting I might have stopped this much sooner. As I said, up until 4 I just wet and pooed all the time without any control. Then in one of the only two bits of toilet training my folks ever did, they persuaded me to use the potty to poo in during the day, saying that it would be embarrassing to be stinky and that I couldn’t do it at school, first mention of the dread word. I was OK with this – I just asked to go potty and was put on it by mom or dad, then strapped back into my diaper. I still pooed in it at night if I felt like it. As for wetting, I was always told that I would always wet, and I have. My parents made a slight concession to normality by, in my 5th year, encouraging me to wear light training pants and pee in the toilet, but this wasn’t totally successful and I had a lot of accidents. Here again, the situation did improve for most of my ordinary school years, but now that I really have made a lifestyle choice and know how much I like being in diapers, I’ve done my best to forget about the little bit of control I gained and now it seems like I just wet during the day without knowing until my diaper feels wet.

And into this came my two brothers. They were treated the same as me, bottles, pacifiers etc, constant diapers, and as I said Wade at ten is even more of a baby than I was. Rob, however, was more independent. He wasn’t toilet trained either, so he trained himself. At about 3 ½ he was at a little friends house who was being toilet trained and encouraged to potty; he came back with the news that Jake, his friend, “didn’t need to wear diapers because he goes in the potty”. He began to take himself off to the bathroom and managed to use it himself. I guess my folks were kind of disappointed that he wanted to be a big boy, but they ended up by praising him. At the age of 4 he stopped wetting his diapers during the day, and soon became dry at night, too. By 5 he was out of diapers altogether, proud and independent – but he was still surrounded by diaper wearers.

Now, my parents. I guess dad’s the founding figure of our family. He’s called Ray, he’s 49, and he’s a photographer and graphical designer for an ad agency – a good one. He’s only recently told me his story and only then at an age when I’d found out about ABs, realised I was one, then realised he was one, then realised mom was one, that we all were……..so, well, briefly, dad was quite normal as a kid. Until the day that he was staying with cousins, and he saw his 7-year-old buddy dressed in a diaper for bed. It fucked with his mind, man. I mean, when he went to bed, his mom and dad would say ‘off to bed now Raymond, goodnight’, and off he went. What he saw that night was a kid, the same age, very much alike, his cousin, kissed and cuddled and cooed over, put in a diaper and plastic pants, and sent to bed. ‘Little Jon’s a bedwetter,’ said his aunt smiling, ‘so he has to wear diapers at night’. He didn’t see much more, but that was enough. If this was what wetting the bed did, he was going to do it.

So he did. The next night at home, with much difficulty and discomfort (ugh! Those wet sheets!) he wet the bed deliberately. Then the next night (set the alarm this time, lie in it while it’s warm) then the next night (a little before bed, some in the morning) and carried on until the plastic sheet appeared and then……..

The scoldings. I love Gramps dearly (Grammy’s dead) but they were like really cold as parents. No hugs, not many kisses. Cold. They scolded him. No sympathy. They asked him why (‘I don’t know, I can’t help it’). They took him to doctor’s (‘I don’t know, I can’t help it’). Psychologists, paediatrician, all the Ps. But he carried on, for months, until they found the solution my dad wanted them to find.

Before that, and to his surprise, he said that he had actually begun to enjoy the bedwetting. At first it was just disgusting. Then it became OK, like, normal, tolerable. Then it suddenly became really nice, and just as he started to enjoy it – he couldn’t stop. First he began to sleep through it – no more waking up in the middle of the night to wet sheets; if he did wake he’d just turn over, maybe wet a little more to make it warm, then sleep again, and soon he wouldn’t wake at all till the morning. He began to really like the feeling, to be warm and wet in bed, and he soon knew that he didn’t have to try anymore – it was just happening. He was waking up wet and didn’t know when he’d wet. Then he was waking up wet thinking he hadn’t wet – but he had. Then, and soon every night, he was waking up wet. Within 6 months, by force of will, he’d become a chronic bedwetter.

Then, finally, came the diapers. His Aunt (Jon’s mom) had been round and he’d heard the conversation between her and his mom, along the lines of ‘well my Jon wets the bed so we use diapers’ ‘Diapers? But he’s seven!’ ‘So’s Jon, at least it keeps the bed dry….’. The next morning he woke up really soaked (he’d drunk lots the night before). His mom got really cross. She said ‘If this carries on, I’m going to treat you like Jon – we’ll put you back in diapers at night.’ Dad burst into tears and said he couldn’t help it, and told her, sobbing, that he hated it and hated waking up in a wet bed. His mom softened a bit. ‘Well then, it looks like we’ll have to try diapers.’ Dad sobbed some more. ‘But I’m not a baby…….’ ‘No’, said his mom, ‘but this way we won’t have to worry about waking up in a wet bed, now will we?’

So that night, at bedtime, his mom, very embarrassed, had taken him upstairs at bedtime and pinned him into a diaper. Then she pulled up the plastic pants and said ‘Let’s see if this works’. Dad says that he laid on the tears himself, but finally, when she left him diapered in bed, became very very happy. He liked the feel of the diapers immediately – it was just as nice as he’d thought. The next morning when he woke up he felt confused at first – what was it? Was he wet? He moved about under the bedclothes and felt the thick diaper between his legs and remembered….yes, the diaper was thick and heavy and very damp, but the bed and his pajamas were both dry. It felt…it felt…great. Yes. Much better than just the wet bed. It felt lovely, and he lay back to enjoy the strange sensations until his mom had come in.

Still, it wasn’t quite as good as it could have been. His mum didn’t baby him or cuddle him, just changed him – while his dad was simply disgusted. The only time he really enjoyed was when he went to his cousin’s, but that was just once when he was 8. Then, his aunt put him in diapers along with Jon, and for two nights he was warm and secure and loved. His aunt diapered them early and let them run around for an hour or so before bedtime, then, in the morning, she didn’t bother changing them till after breakfast. Jon, he remembers, said that he liked the diapering too and was sometimes allowed to wear them in the daytime if he was ill. But dad’s night time diapering carried on until he was 12 or 13. Then, as he got interested in girls and started going out and wanting to go on sleepovers, he made an effort to give it up, and by 14 he was pretty much dry, to the relief of his mom and dad. He kind of forgot about it all till he was in college.

One day he was out with the guys and one of them mentioned that he’d had a bedwetting problem. “Oh,” said dad, “did you wear diapers too?” “No!” said the guy, looking horrified, and the subject was dropped. But it suddenly rekindled all those desires. That night, my dad thought about it again, and masturbated as images and thoughts of wet beds and diapers sped through his mind. As he was coming, he knew then that he wanted them back, so badly. Well. To cut a long story short, it wasn’t long before he had a plastic sheet on the bed, had improvised a diaper, bought some plastic pants from a medical supply centre, and was lying in bed wetting himself. From then on he was hooked again. He scanned the ads in the local sex press until he found one for the DPF, joined, and through it met my mum.

Now my mum is Amie, and she’s 44. She’s not much of an AB really, but she sure likes them. She wet the bed till she was 8, and was diapered for it, but says she never really liked it. What she did like doing though was diapering her little brother. He was a heavy bedwetter and wore diapers to bed right through till about 12. She got to like putting him in diapers at night and having him as “her baby”. She knew that as she pinned him in at night he would turn from being a boisterous, noisy 10-year-old into a calm, loving little infant. It’s what she does to all the men in her life – me included. She’s a wonderful mum, pretty, soft, loving and caring. She says that she likes all her boys to be babies, and to have that wonderful warm freedom to wet and mess whenever they feel like it, and to have bottles and pacis even if you’re 10 or 15.

But back to me. So I’m 6 years old, and I’ve been kept back from school a year. I wear mostly trainers and plastic pants during the day, and I’m diapered heavily at night. My two brothers, 3 and 1, are in the same situation, except that Rob is just getting out of the diapering. I can control my wetting a bit during the day, just a few dribbles, and my pooing, but oftentimes I don’t bother. If I’ve got a diaper on I might as well use it. And since my mom and dad are happy to have me running around with just a diaper on, and to change me, it’s easy and nice to forget about my bladder and my bowels and let go. But by this time I had discovered, much to my alarm, that not all kids of my age are still such babies – in fact, not many of them were, in fact I was the only one! At first it never occurred to me to hide it or that it was anything to be ashamed of. It was just….well, reality for me. So I wouldn’t worry about wearing diapers to play out in – I gave them no more thought than you would a swimming costume. Then I started to hear the comments: “My but you’re a big boy to be still in diapers!” “Well – look at that big boy still in baby diapers!” and from the kids, a little bit of teasing. I had a “so what?” attitude to all this (I still do – and hey if you have bedwetting children, diaper wearers or not, at the very least encourage them to be outfront about their problems, cos no-one can be teased about something they’re at peace with) but I soon made sure I wore shorts or overalls to cover my diapers, and I stopped having my paci during the day – or at least outside the house, Also, because of the school, my parents started encouraging me to dry up during the day, and by the time I started school my day-wetting was manageable with training pants and frequent trips to the bathroom.

But as far as the school was concerned, that wasn’t good enough. I don’t know if you’ve read stories where the school nurse diapers the kid and it’s all OK? Bullshit. In my school they were very scathing if I wet too heavily and it leaked, which happened about once a week. Mrs Ferguson, the teacher in 1st and 2nd grade just told me I was a messy little baby. She’d hand me a pair of training pants and tell me to go change, and because she said it in front of the whole class they soon picked up on it and I was teased, at first, then began to be bullied, which the teacher didn’t stop

Then there was one awful day, which I’ll never forget. I’d struggled through 1st and 2nd grade and was just starting 3rd grade; it was also about a week since Rob had started in the 1st - my little brother who was dry, while I wasn’t. That day I had a stomach upset, which came on quite suddenly, just after lunch. I had retreated to a corner of the playground, feeling off-colour. Three of the boys in my class who liked to bully me turned and looked towards me, then nodded to each other and, to my horror, started walking towards me. I was in a corner, hemmed in by a fence on two sides. So up they came.

“Here’s the baby,” said one. “Hey baby…….show us your baby diapers!”

I said to let me be, but they wouldn’t. “Let’s see your diapers…”

“They ain’t diapers” I cried out but they gathered round and started pulling at my pants. I tried to get away and as my arms flailed around I caught the biggest of the three on the ear. He pulled back shocked, then went in angry “you little motherfucker….” And struck me full in the stomach. I bent double, winded, and at the same time opened my bowels……..with an explosive force my pants were full; then, gasping for air, I peed myself too, and ended up hunched over my legs taking huge gulps of air, while pee and diahrrea cascaded down the back of my legs in wet, stinking streams.

The bullies ran off and the teacher came, and as she led me into the school all the boys and girls watched as I went past them covered in my own excrement. As we reached the top of the steps someone shouted ‘baby!’ and I looked back at the crowd of them and burst into tears. Sobbing, I wrenched my hand from the teacher’s, pushed through the crowd of kids and ran towards the school gate. I just kept running, and crying, till I made it home, and banging in through the back door threw myself in my mom’s arms.

Well, she did the necessary. She kissed and cuddled me and as she cleaned me off asked what happened, so I kind of told her, and cried again. She said not to worry that it wouldn’t happen any more. I was sick, and she put me to bed. But first she diapered me, and that diapering was the most vivid I ever remember, and the first time I really got diapered and I really enjoyed it. It took away all the pain I had and made it into love.

She bathed me first, with bubble bath, and washed me all over with a flannel. Then she towelled me all dry and led me into my bedroom. Rob and Wade were playing on the floor. She put me on Wade’s changing table and wiped me all over with baby lotion, then talc. As she was doing this she talked to me soothingly, explaining things and comforting me. It wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t help having accidents and having to wear diapers, why she and Ray sometimes did (up till now I hadn’t paid any attention to this, but now it all made sense to me) and that maybe she should keep me in diapers while my stomach was still upset. She pulled the folded diapers tight around my waist and began to pin it in place. Rob wandered over. “Rob doesn’t have to wear diapers anymore”, he said, smiling. “No dear,” she said “Tom doesn’t need them in the daytime, except now, because he’s ill and he’s been hurt. So mom will keep him in diapers till he’s better. Is that all right sweetheart?” I remember her pulling the plastic pants up over the diaper. I felt a wonderful rush of warmth inside, and I knew that yes, everything was all right. She carried me over to my crib to lie down, and as she let go of me I asked for the only thing which would really make me all right. “Mom, can I have a paci….please.” She looked at me, then shook her head, then smiled. “Well….OK. I think we’ve got a little boy here who still wants to a bit of a baby…..All right, honey, if it makes you happy.” At that point Wade came over, sucking on his. When he heard what I said he went “Tom, wants a paci…” then he popped it out of his mouth and put it in mine, which was really sweet of him. Mom kissed me as I laid back and as I sucked and let myself go all into myself it felt like I was falling back down the years and was warm and snugly and I never wanted that to end.

This was a momentous day in another way too. Mom and dad had some friends round, with their two kids. Now, I didn’t know it then, but Ted and Trish were an AB couple too. Their kids were 4 and 2, and both in diapers, though obviously this didn’t seem strange to me. We were all in the front room, the kids in jammies and diapers, and the adults, I expect, in diapers too. We were watching television or playing – I was doing legos I think. The conversation went round to what had happened to me at school.

“It’s awful,” said Ted. “I used to wet at school sometimes, till I was about 9. I got treated shit for it. I hope he don’t go through all that.”

“Yes,” said dad, “it isn’t fair. You know I’m thinking more and more about what we discussed. It’s like, he could be really miserable. Maybe he’ll dry up completely – he’s nearly there. But there aren’t any points at the age of eight in only wetting yourself once a week. If we did it we could home school him, or all of them. And the diaper problem wouldn’t be a problem at all – for any of us.”

My mom agreed. “Yes we could both do work from home, most of the time. And your art….” - Ted is an artist – “can easily be done in the woods”

My folks had vaguely been talking of moving, somewhere in the hills, but the topic hadn’t come up much before. Trish said:

“Yeah, but is it right? I mean…..” she lowered her voice but I moved closer. “Let’s not kid ourselves. We’d be bringing up our kids in diapers, as big babies. Would that really be right?”

My dad leaned towards her. “I don’t know. Except that there isn’t one of us who wouldn’t rather have had a happily diapered childhood rather than the guilt and misery we all went through. Our kids enjoy them, well, not Rob, but the other kids are quite happy. and they’re nice, relaxed kids, though the school thing is a problem. I reckon that if we move to the lake they’ll be able to do their own thing, and completely relax, and us too, we could –“ at that point he saw me listening, and the conversation was over, and it was bed time, but I’d heard the first news about the rest of my life.

Anyway, I didn’t end up going back to school. The very next day we set off in a camper van, to the lake, which is where we all live now. It’s a remote place when we first got there all there was was a rundown log cabin, up a long dirt track, beside a lake all fringed with pine trees. We swam and ran around and played, and it was really cool. When we were having our supper Mom said:

“Hey kids, would anyone like to live here?”

“Here? Well, yeah,” said Rob. “It’s exciting, I’m gonna get a tree house”

“Good, because we’re thinking of moving here,” said my dad. Yes, we liked the idea. Yeah it would be cool. “The thing is,” he added, “that we could move here with Ted and Trish. Now you know that a lot of us have to wear diapers –“

“You mean you like to wear diapers,” said Rob

Dad ignored this. “So we thought we could have a little community. We’d teach you ourselves, and well, it’s a lot healthier here than living in the city…”

So we moved and then Ted and Trish joined us. I expect it’s the only AB community in the world. I love it, and like I say, I’m quite happy here, so I guess I’d better describe life for us.

Now there are three couples and 7 kids who live here regularly, and another few people who drop in. We only have parents and kids, no singles, because we all know about perverts and we don’t want any of that. Each family lives in a big log cabin. We’ve all got separate rooms. Mine is done up half teenager, half baby (which is what I am) so I’ve got lots of Football posters, and, like Nirvana posters, and that, but I’ve got a big crib that Ted made me and diapers and plastic pants and changing pads, and my teddies. Rob’s room is totally teenage (go Buffy, go!) while Wade’s room is just a big nursery.

Mom and Dad’s room is pretty straight, but there’s plastic sheets on the beds and lots of diaper stuff hidden away.

Ok so I wake up in the morning, in wet diapers. I went through a six months patch about a year ago when I was pretty much dry at night, so I tried giving up the diapers. But it only meant that when I did wet I got all soaked. Then I just decided that I liked the diapers and wanted to wear them – like pretty much everyone else here – so I put them back on. Then if I had a dry night I sort of missed the wetness (and I’d started masturbating in them too) so I decided to go back to the bedwetting and maybe grow out of it later. Dad helped me in this – he had one of those bedwetting hypnosis tapes. I was really surprised when he told me what it was, but he just said: “some people don’t like waking up in the night when they have to pee, so this is a tape you listen to to help you relax, so it doesn’t matter.” I didn’t quite realise how much he liked it till later, but I started listening to it and I liked it, It was very soothing. A ladies voice make you all relax first of all by imagining going down stairs and down in lifts, then she began to tell you that you were going to wet the bed (or your diapers) and that you couldn’t help it, and that when you woke up it would feel real good. Well it worked. It made me want to wet more and then all of a sudden I was back to nightly wetting again, not knowing when I was doing it, and because of the suggestions on the tape, also waking up really happy. Well I was soon back to proper heavy bedwetting again. I really enjoy it now. Sometimes I even wet my diaper before I go to sleep, and this means I’m pretty sure to wed the bed too; a bit like dad, sometimes I find it great to wake up damp all down the back of my PJs, but I like the diapers too much to leave them off, and I guess there’s also a thrill in waking up in really soaking diapers and a dry bed. I dunno which I like the best….

Alongside this, as I mentioned before, I’m usually back in diapers of training pants during the day too. Perhaps because of this, and having that lovely feeling of baby dampness in my diapers, I began to wear them a bit longer during the day, and then to let myself go more during the daytime and now for the past year or so my daytime control isn’t so good. Of course, I don’t mind. Sometimes we kids don’t wear diapers, which is cool too – we’re free to wear what we want. Yesterday though when I went out with just shorts and a T-shirt on I soon ended up damp, then wet. But that was cool. Now I’m totally at the age when I can do what I want, and if I want to wet, day or night, that’s up to me and no one criticises me for it.

As for Wade, I guess he’s the most babyish nine-year-old in the US, perhaps even the world! In fact it’s gotten so bad that for the first time ever our little community has decided to help him grow up a little, and from his 10th birthday we’re all going to help to toilet train him and get him just a bit more grown-up. He knows this, but it probably won’t make much difference to him.

He is totally babified. When he wakes up in the morning mom or dad or me or Rob will go in and bath him, change him and dress him (Rob is particularly devoted to him – whenever he complains of how much we all wear diapers we just remind him how much he loves doing it to Wade) Wade has never had the least bladder or bowel control and no one has ever encouraged him to try. He wears cloth diapers almost all the time, and has a range of baby clothes which he’s dressed in. He is fed and given bottles and the pacifier is never out of his mouth; but he’s still a lively and lovely little kid. He just seems so happy that no one wants him to change (till he’s 10). Actually he is quite useful because he always looks after the real babies who stay, and plays with them for hours. But he just loves being a baby and has never been anything else. But that’s mostly going to change, as I said.

Now the occasion for this little piece of mine is my dad’s 50th birthday (or his 5th birthday as he styles it. It’s tomorrow, and I’m writing this account partly as a birthday present – I love you dad! In fact he’s given himself a birthday present already – and I’m the only kid who knows about. He hasn’t told the others because he doesn’t think they’ll understand, but he did tell me because I’m interested in all this stuff. Basically, he’s just come back from Mexico after having a little medical procedure done. Yup, he’s gone and had his sphincter knocked out for good. It seems there’s a doctor (ex-doctor in fact) who will perform little medical procedures on people who……don’t really need them, and well, my dad’s one of those. So he went off to get sorted out, and he came back yesterday, delighted. I asked him when we were alone together how it had all gone.

“Great,” he said. The doctor had given him a series of injections over three or four days, where some stuff was injected into the sphincter muscles in his bladder. “It’s incredible,” he told me, pointing to the diaper bulge under his shorts “it was pretty near painless. It was a combination of two drugs – one ate away at the muscles and made them shrivel, and the other makes it so that the nerves don’t really work to tell you when you need to go. So it’s like, first the urine dribbles out when it needs to, and then I don’t feel the need to go until it’s too late.” It had only been a week since he’d had the last dose but already he had pretty much lost all control of his bladder. Before that, he says, he’d been a fairly consistent bedwetter (the tape had helped him in the past) but not every night. Now it was every night, several times – we know because he designed a bedwetting monitor which we’d all used, one which plots the time of each spurt so you can log when it’s happening. Using this I know that I generally wet twice (now) and that Wade just dribbles more or less every half hour, day and night.

And during the daytime too it got better and better. “It just doesn’t register at all when I need to go, suddenly my pants are wet and that’s that. So now,” he said happily snapping the band of his plastic pants, “I just have to wear diapers or else I’ll be wetting myself all the time. It’s bad, man. For the first time since I was a real baby I really need my diapers fulltime.” I asked him if it had been anyway inconvenient. “Nah,” he said, with a mischievous grin. “I was pretty used to wearing diapers anyway. The only difference is that now I have to put them on, and I have to carry them around with me, and sometimes I can end up really soaking and not be able to stop anymore coming out. But basically no, I love it. I feel quite happy. And hey – maybe you’ll get this operation sometime!” Yeah maybe, but I’m doing pretty well without!

Anyway I want to get this written and pass it over to my dad and put it out on the net. I could go on and on about our life – maybe I’ll do that when Wade has his 10th birthday and we all help him to grow up a little. Yeah, I’ll tell you more about the other residents of our diapered community in a few month’s time. Stay tuned…..

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