Page 22 of Daddy's Little Camping Trip
And suddenly, I wished that I hadn’t brought clothes that I’d worn before—not in front of anyone else.
“Hey, sweet boy, tell Daddy what’s going on.” He suddenly got very serious. Of course he noticed. He was paying attention. When I was with him, it was like I was—
“I wish I brought new clothes for you, Daddy. You got all special for me, and I just picked out something that looked comfortable.”
“You don’t need to buy special clothes for me. I think you’ve looked adorable every time I’ve seen you little. And your styles change.”
“You see me, Daddy, don’t you?”
“Only you.” He kissed my cheek. “There’s one last thing I want to show you.”
He led me to the bathroom, and there on the counter was a pair of Fuji jams—and not just any jams. Zbear jams. “I didn’t know if you like this kind, the ones with the hoods, but they were so adorable I couldn’t help myself. I thought maybe after you took a bath, you could wear that and color while I cook dinner for you.”
I picked the jams up and hugged them close.
“I love them so much.” And I did. Not just because they were adorable—which they were—and not because they were soft or kind of fit our relationship. I loved his gift because it was special, just between the two of us.
“I’ll take that as a yes, sweet boy.” He tapped my nose then turned on the taps. “Why don’t we get you ready for your bath while it fills up?”
I nodded and walked out into the main bedroom, where it would be easier to get undressed, but it was hard to remember that we had a tub waiting for us. I wanted to launch myself at him.
Before the night was over, I probably would. But, for now, this time was special just as it was.
I hadn’t seen Daddy add the bubble bath, but when we got back into the bathroom, the tub was just about filled and there were bubbles galore. He tested the water, and, once he’d deemedit the perfect temperature, he helped me climb inside and sink into the warm suds.
It felt so decadent—and it was only the beginning.
He washed me from head to toe, careful not to get certain parts of me too excited—but also not ignoring them—keeping me close to the edge.
And then came the toys. There weren’t a lot of them: a plastic measuring cup, a rubber duckie designed to look like a bear, and a little squirting fish. But they were all I needed.
I playedsink the duckusing the measuring cup. Unsuccessfully, but I tried. I squirted the fishy, tried to get the duckie to capsize the way our kayak nearly did. And I listened to Daddy make up a story about the little ducky bear.
I could’ve stayed in there all day if the water hadn’t started to turn cold. But that was fine. We had plans.
Daddy helped me get out of the tub and dried me off, helping me slip into my new jams. And then, while I sat in front of him, coloring, he dried my hair—first with a towel and then with a low hairdryer, careful to stroke my head the way I liked.
It was so easy sinking into little space while he did that. And the next thing I knew, I was finishing my picture and dinner was on the table: my favorite—chicken nuggies, and veggies cut in all sorts of fun shapes that made them enjoyable to eat, despite some of them being green.
We spent the evening playing together and watching TV.
I’d been little, or known I was little, for many years. I played with friends, and I played with mommies and daddies, but I’d never been so deep into little space as I was that night.
And I owed it all to Daddy G.
He knew exactly what I needed.
He said it was because I communicated and he listened, and there was some truth in that. But it was more than that. Becausecommunication alone wasn’t enough to free me into this little space.
Daddy being who he was and making me feel so completely safe—that did. And that was 100 percent Daddy G.
“Night, Daddy G.” I snuggled onto his chest and in bed after falling asleep watching my favorite show for the third time. “Thank you for the perfect night. Thank you for being you.”
He ran his hand over the back of my head.
“My sweet, sweet boy.”
Epilogue
