Page 18 of Colby's Lost Binky

I did have my onesie, and I splurged on a pair of knee-high socks and some little shorts from one of my favorite Etsy sellers who shipped out almost the second you ordered. Not really, but it did get there in record speed every single time.

It was hardly my most adorable little outfit ever, but it was cute. And really, this wasn’t about what clothes I was wearing. They were for fun, and I enjoyed them, but they were hardly the “important” part of a playdate. At least for me, they weren’t. I was sure for some littles, the right clothing was how they slipped into little space.

This date, this afternoon, was more about how he took care of me and how I let him. Let was a shitty word, but also, it was kind of the most precise way to describe what we were doing. We were exploring what a daddy/little relationship might look like between the two of us.

I showed up shortly before lunch, my clothes in a backpack with the exception of my onesie, which I once again wore underneath my clothing.

When Barrister opened the door, all the trepidation building up inside me fell away. This was my space. He was going to take care of me. My job was to come here and allow him to do so. Nothing more.

“How was traffic?” he asked, taking my backpack from me and shutting the door behind us.

“Terrible. There’s no two ways around it. The traffic is always awful.” It wasn’t going to be long before I got rid of my vehicle. I much preferred having someone else navigate the busy streets.

“Let’s get you dressed, and I’ll show you your surprise.” He had me at surprise.

I asked him question after question about it on the way into his bedroom, and he was pretty much saying no to everything.

“Daddies tell their boys everything.” I stuck my bottom lip out in a pout.

“And Daddies put little boys who don’t listen into time-out.” Right then and there, I vowed to myself never to get in time-out.

“I’m a good boy, Daddy. I don’t need a time-out.” Not now or ever, thank you very much. “I try to never get in trouble.”

“I can see that about you.” He brushed the hair from my brow. “Would you like to start today with a story?”

I nodded up and down like a little bobblehead.

“Then story time it is.” Daddy pulled a picture book from the coffee table to show me. He said it was a book from when he was a small boy and had always been one of his favorites. I could see why.

It didn’t have a ton of words, but it did have a prince, a unicorn, and a fairy godmother. It was pretty much the perfect story for the kind of day we had planned. He read it to me and, when he was done, I said, “Again, again, again,” until he agreed to do so.

He ended up reading the book to me three more times. Most people looking at our time together so far would say we hadn’t really done much, that our day was boring. Only I wasn’t on the outside. I was in the center of it all and it was far more exciting than boring. I’d go so far as to say it was also absolutely perfect.

“Does somebody need a nap?” Daddy asked when I didn’t hold back my yawns. “I think somebody needs a nap.”

I nodded. There was no denying it. I needed to sleep.

“I couldn’t sleep last night. I was excited about our playdate.” I rubbed my cheek against his.

My stomach betrayed me, rumbling loud enough I had hopes Daddy would think it was a truck rolling by and ignore it. That was very much not how that played out.

“But, first, you need to eat.” He was right, of course. That didn’t mean I wanted to delay my naptime snuggles. Wanting to be good won out, just as it always did.

“Okay, Daddy.”

He took me to the kitchen and proceeded to ask if I wanted oatmeal with fruit or more of a sandwich kind of meal. I told him sandwiches. I’d eat anything. Fine, mostly anything.

“Peanut butter and jelly?” he offered, and I nodded.

PB&J worked for me. It was one of my favorites. And I told him so with both my words and a slightly too-loud squee.

I sat at the table, watching him prepare it. He explained each step as he was doing it. It was fun listening to him explain the process, including how to get the jelly and peanut butter ratio just right. He could probably be reading the ingredients on the bread and I’d be there for it.

Lunch was great. But snuggling in bed with him was going to be far better. I just knew it.

I caught a glimpse of the clock. It was pushing one, and I hadn’t eaten breakfast. Not that I was letting Daddy in on that secret unless he asked. I wouldn’t lie to him, but that didn’t mean I was going to offer him information randomly.

“Thanks for lunch.” I popped the last bit of my sandwich into my mouth. “I ready for sleepies.”

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