#learning to use the potty

[paleflower]

I survived 24 hours of my toddler not wearing a diaper! I don't want to say Day 1 of potty training, because I have occasionally let him go diaper free for a few hours here and there before to get some practice and to get him familiar with the concept and such... But today he went full 24 hours without a diaper. Yes even naps and a whole night without one, too! Because yesterday evening I asked if he needs a diaper during the night and he told me that he wants to sleep without one. So I gladly took him up on that and... he was right. I was nervous about this, but it has been months since he last peed during the night. I know that he usually doesn't do this. I am still impressed. However. During the day he was still a bit nervous about sitting on the potty. He does not pee very often and everytime I ask if he needs to pee or poop the answer is "no" - except for when he is already peeing. So we had a 50/50 day. Half of it went into the potty. Half of it somewhere else... But I think he did great! He didn't cry on the potty or while peeing his pants. Which he still used to do a month ago on one of our short trials. And he does a cute little pee pee dance before he starts peeing. If I keep an eye out for this and act quickly everything goes well. However since he is not peeing very often I am not always very alert. Oh and his poop went into the bathtub today, but that's 100% on me, because I turned my back on him for like two minutes (bad mom!).

Anyway. I'm proud of him and very optimistic that he will keep making progress. And please let him also not pee his bed tonight. 🙂

[acidheaddd]

Oh yeah, she looks ecstatic.

[uygfiug]

I think part of what makes school so difficult for me, is how forced it all is. It takes up so much of my time, and I don't even want to do any of it. I hate being told what to do, but when you go to school, your whole life seems to be taken up by commands. Telling me what to do is a good way to ensure I will never do it. On top of that, you're expected to act 'normal'? Fuck that.

When you don't do as they ask, every interaction with teachers feels like an attempt to get you to act the way they want you to. Every compliment is about how you're smart enough to do your work, so why don't you? Wow! You've grown so much, please grow just a little more. I saw you looking at the right answer, so why didn't you answer the question? Some of the stuff they mention isn't even real, because they just see what they want to see. And what they want to see is either a contrarian little bitch, or a miserable, depressed kid who needs urgent help before they kill themselves or something.

I don't like being called smart, because that almost always carries the implication that I'm wasting my natural capabilities, or it's so overdone, that it feels like they're not complimenting me, the compliment is for the idealised version of myself that they want me to be. I'll never live up to those compliments unless I throw my happiness away, and force myself to act all wrong. It always feels like I'm just being complimented because people want me to act a certain way

[samssims]

Iris has this headache that comes and goes...oh look there he is...

[kulemii]

raising three kids is hard as fuck! there's so much to do and there's so much going on- ALL THE TIME!!!! i'm so tired of this i wanna age them up so bad 😭 make them take care of themselves, shit.

[supercantaloupe]

my roommate laying down house rules for the cat making it really seem like she expects him to be like a dog

[cradle-quill]

I want to keep you in diapers all the time. Not just when it's fun or convenient, not just when you're feeling little and flirty. I want to ground you in your submission to me, and I want to do so through your diapers. I want them to be a constant reminder that not only are you incapable of being a big girl and using the potty like an adult, but also that you chose this. That no one forced you down this path, but you followed it anyway out of your own volition, because you wanted it that badly. You so desperately desired to be held that deep by me.

But that means wearing your diapers out in public, and adjusting your wardrobe to suit your new needs. But Daddy still wants you to look cute for him, so don't think it'll be all baggy sweats and long shirts every day. You'll have to learn to feel comfortable in your short little skirts with a diaper slightly peeking out beneath, just how Daddy likes to see you.

It means cutting up and throwing away all your big girl panties, because you won't be needing them anymore. You'll have to carry a large purse or diaper bag at all times, and keep it stocked up with your changing supplies. When you're by yourself, you'll be expected to change on your own, but when we're together, Daddy will always be the one to change you. You won't be allowed to do it without his assistance, even if that means having to change you in family bathrooms or the trunk of my car.

And you'll have to wear your diapers when seeing friends and family, too. No days off, under any circumstances. This is your life now; it's not just something you can do half-way once you've decided to commit. Daddy will let you decide whether or not to tell them, but honestly, he thinks your life would be much easier and happier if everyone knew what a baby you are, and nobody even attempted to treat you as anything else.

That means telling your doctor, too, because Daddy isn't going to allow you to not take care of yourself. You'll just have to tell them you can't stop having accidents, and that will be the truth. Because after awhile, you won't even feel it happening anymore. Give yourself enough time in diapers, without holding back, and you'll be having real accidents just like the helpless little baby you so desire to be. Don't fight it anymore, little one. We both know this is what we both want.

[scientia-rex]

One of my patients used to be a Big Deal Specialist in the city and you can just TELL he’s SEETHING that no one out here is even qualified to understand what he did, much less how important he was. He’s also terrified of death. It’s both annoying and really sad. Like, sir, I hate to break it to you, but no amount of knowledge will protect you from the ravages of time. It’s a special kind of hell to know the stages of various fatal diseases intimately. What is it going to feel like when it’s my turn? How do doctors want to die? Suddenly, quietly. Slip away painlessly in my sleep. But how likely is that? Not very. More likely I’ll get cardiovascular disease or cancer, the greatest killers of our time.

He was so afraid of cancer he had an organ that wasn’t cancerous removed just in case. He talks down to me as if I’m his student, and who knows? Maybe I was. He was in the same city as me, and they were forever dragging Big Name Doctors in to teach us things. Maybe I learned how to elicit Achilles tendon reflexes from him.

But mostly I find myself a little scornful. Who lives without the shadow of death? Who doesn’t think about death all the time? When you die, life is a round thing, finished and whole. What will your life look like when God holds it in the palm of his hand?

Also don’t fucking call me by my first name unless I’ve specifically said you can. I don’t GIVE that permission to patients, except for my mentally ill trans and queer patients. If I wanted to be disrespected by an older man I would have married young.

You do not have time. This important doctor who based his whole life around his importance lived as rich and full a life as anyone. And now he’s clinging to it, leaving fingernail marks on the walls on his way out. No one has time. There will be a moment when you’re dying when you think, I would give anything I have to be back in that moment. Any ordinary moment. Taking the dogs out to go potty. Browsing at the grocery store. When you’re being crucified on a hospital bed, dying and aware of it through the morphine, you would give anything you ever possessed to go back and have one more agony-free afternoon. Sit on a curb or a stoop. Walk through a park. Hug your spouse. These tiny fragmentary moments that we are constantly sliding through, tobogganing past at high speeds, these are what will be our life when our life is over.

I am accountable to that self. To the dying me. What did I do with this gift and curse? I don’t believe in God, but I know that I will die, and I have watched enough dying people by now to know the kinds of things I’ll think about. I want to make that me proud of what I’ve done and how I’ve spent my life. She will be a harder judge than God, and I want her to look at this one little life and think, yes. I did what I meant to.

[paleflower]

Right now was the first time he asked me to take him potty. Before I always had to suggest it, because he was doing this funny "I have to pee" dance.

Well technically he didn't ask for the potty, he said "mommy take me there quickly", but we both knew what he meant. 😅

So proud of you my sunshine.

[teaboot]

As someone who learnt english as a second language via textbook, I have to say "flying by the seat of my pants" is a hilarious idiom xD

It's the first time I've seen/heard it.

Could you share another one you like using?

Idk about idioms specifically, but there's a bunch of phrases I learned from my mom!

Lord love a duck! (Incredulous, like 'oh my god')

Lord suffer in sheep dip! (Sheep dip meaning sheep poop. Incredulous, but for annoying things- like 'are you kidding me?')

Is there a piano tied to your ass? ('Don't be lazy, do it yourself')

Someone's cruising for a bruising. (You're picking a fight.)

I don't give a rat's rip. ('I don't care'- a rat's 'rip' is it's butt crack.)

Pull up a stump! (Get yourself a chair, sit down.)

Everybody out of the pool! (Get out of the car)

I'm flying by the seat of my pants. (I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm doing it.)

Don't go blowing smoke up my ass. (Don't over-compliment me, don't flatter me, don't stroke my ego, don't tell me positive lies)

Looks like it's gonna rain on our parade. (A storm is coming.)

Sorry to rain on your parade. (I've given you bad news- can be used sincerely or sarcastically to denote sympathy for incurring a bad mood.)

Better button that lip. (Stop talking.)

Someone's gonna stick a boot up your ass. ('Stick a boot up your ass'- fight you, beat you, kick your ass.)

Stick that lip out any further, and a pigeon'll shit on it. (Stop whining.)

Suck it up, buttercup. (Stop whining.)

Dumber than a fence post. (Very stupid.)

The back forty. (The wild or forested area behind a rural home. The 'forty' being forty acres, or farmland.)

Don't go begging for a fat lip. (Whatever you're saying or doing is going to bother people and get you in trouble.)

What on God's green earth (What the fuck)

I'm sweating like a pig in a porta-potty (like a pig in a plastic outhouse- I'm very warm, it's hot here)

He thinks the universe flew out of his ass. (He thinks he's more impressive than he is.)

Your mouth wrote a cheque your ass couldn't cash. (You promised more than you were capable of providing.)

You've got a horseshoe up your ass. (You're very, very lucky.)

Taking a dirt nap. (Dead.)

Pushing (up) daisies. (Dead.)

Give me forty acres to turn this rig around. (I need time and space to move this large, heavy, or unwieldy thing. Usually about navigating a vehicle. Taken from a song lyric.)

Jesus take the wheel. (God help me, I can't handle this, I give up.)

Gone belly-up. (Has died.)

We've got a floater. (This one is dead.)

Herding cats. (Trying to organize chaos, managing an impossibly complicated situation.)

I've got a black thumb. (I am bad at growing plants, all my plants die- reference to having a 'green thumb', or being good at growing plants.)

Stop trackin' floor cookies. (Floor cookies are bits of animal shit that fall off your work boots- 'tracking floor cookies' means wearing your boots in the house; take your shoes off at the door.)

Running around like a headless chicken. (Frantic, disorganized, stressed out by many tasks or panicked by a big situation.)

Spinning my wheels. (Waiting around for something to happen, getting nowhere, frustrated by inactivity, not making any progress towards a goal.)

He's gonna blow a gasket. (He's going to lose his temper, he's going to be angry.)

They'll tan your hide. (They'll punish you severely; usually through violence. Specifically in reference to a spanking.)

He's a few bricks short a load. (He's not clever / he doesn't think things through / he's crazy)

Not the sharpest tool in the shed. (Not the smartest person. Very dumb, clumsy, or absent-minded.)

I'm not going to bail you out. (Not going to save your sinking boat- not going to help you out of your bad situation.)

Looks like things are going south. (The situation is growing worse.)

I'll start making tracks. (I'll leave now, I'll start working, I'll get going.)

He's fucking the dog. (He's not being productive, he's doing a bad job, he's made things worse, he's screwing around.)

He's making puppies. (Less graphic version of 'fucking the dog'.)

Plant your ass. (Sit.)

Playing grab-ass. (Procrastinating- accomplishing nothing, slowing people down.)

He couldn't find his ass in the dark. (He's stupid, ineffective, underqualified, or incompetent.)

He couldn't pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel. (He is unbelievably, comically dumb or ineffective. He can't do anything right.)

One foot in the ground. (Dying, or half-dead.)

I'm kicking rocks. (I'm not doing anything productive.)

I'm hauling ass. (I'm running away.)

Madder than a wet hen. (Very, very angry.)

Like I said I'm not sure that these are all idioms but they're all the phrases and sayings from my childhood that I can remember right now

EDIT: Cannot BELIEVE I forgot my mom's favourite

52. Wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which gets filled first. (Wishes don't come true by themselves)

Plus some more I forgot:

53. You make a better door than a window. (You're in the way of my view.)

54. You can take a long walk off a short pier. (Go fuck yourself.)

55. He's about as sharp as a bowling ball. (He's stupid.)

56. Scoot your poot. (Move over.)

57. Not my first rodeo. (I know what I'm doing.)

58. He's built like a brick shithouse. (He's broad and sturdy and very strong, solid.)

59. I smell bacon. (I saw a cop nearby.)

60. I don't want to hear a peep. (Stop talking.)

61. You're thinking with the wrong head. (You're making bad decisions because you're horny.)

62. I'd lose my ass/head if it wasn't tied on. (I'm very absent-minded, forgetful.)

63. That went down like a lead balloon. (That situation was bad.)

[pumpkin-cake]

Family Man Farmer Logan

dad!logan howlett x fem!reader

i cannot get this out of my head- logan out in the country with his little family has my brain rotting!!!!! also girl dad logan has me in a chokehold!

part two

divider by @cafekitsune

The rooster's crow echoed in the wide open space of land, stretching across the fields and barns and the small wooden playhouse he himself had built. To ensure Logan's consciousness, the small alarm clock started ringing. He groaned. He hated that damn thing, but oh well. His wife insisted on keeping one around.

That wife, you, were regretting your decision. You matched his groan, shoving Logan as the beeping continued to invade the silence you'd been enjoying. "Turn it off." You grumbled, and he grunted in response. He reached over and sloppily felt for the button and hit it like it had personally wronged him. He inhaled deeply and rolled over to wrap his buff arms around you.

"Mornin'." He said in his raspy morning voice, his beard tickling and pricking your neck. You didn't mind. It was a good look on him.

"Morning, honey." You yawned, turning around to face him. "Who's on daughter duty this morning?" You murmured, and Logan's heart fluttered seeing your eyes open halfway sleepily. God you were perfect, even with a bedhead.

"Baby duty." He corrected a bit grumpily.

"She isn't a baby anymore, honey."

"Yeah she is." He said, absolutely no room to argue. He sat up and stretched, his back popping as he did so. He gave you a kiss. "I'll meet ya in the kitchen, yeah?"

You offered a tired mutter in response. He chuckled and left the room, dressed only in gray sweatpants. He gently creaked open the door to his little girl's room, which was filled with toys and anything of the like. She had a lot of wolf plushies. Her favorite animal. It made him feel warm, like she subconsciously loved him everywhere. She of course didn't know what the hell an actual Wolverine was (she called it a woofewine), but word association apparently.

His heart swelled at his sweet girl passed out sleeping in her new big girl bed that he had built for her. He'd painted the wood white and found some stencils of some butterflies, which were painted yellow. Her favorite color. Logan gently sat at the edge of her bed, reaching over and gently shaking her shoulder.

"Hey, sweetie. Time to wake up." He whispered, like he didn't actually want to wake her up. He loved the peacefulness of her expression when she was sleeping. Looked so much like her mother.

His little girl squirmed a bit, whining and trying to pull her blankets over her face. It just made him laugh a bit, softly but firmly pulling the covers back down. She squealed.

"Daddy!! It's cold!!" She exclaimed, trying to reach for the blanket with her eyes still closed.

Logan laughed and grabbed her from her spot, gently pulling her into his lap and holding her tight. "How's this? Daddy's warm, yeah?" He smiled.

She huffed sassily. "Not as warm as the blankies." She argued, and Logan just laughed again. He grabbed the blanket you'd knit her and wrapped her up. "Better, Daddy." She hummed, leaning into him. He stood up off the bed and kept her close.

"You need to go potty?" He asked her as they walked to the bathroom so she could brush her teeth. Never in a million years did he think he'd have a perfect little girl who he was asking to go 'potty', but God did he not care about whatever dumb child lingo he had to use. Especially if it meant less dirty diapers. Ugh. Sometimes the smell was unbearable.

"No!" She said simply, letting him place her on the bathroom sink's counter. He handed her the Bluey themed toothbrush and she frowned. "You do it!" She demanded.

Your words echoed in his head. "She needs to be a little more independent, she can learn to brush her own teeth."

He sucked in a breath. "Why don't ya give it a shot yourself, sweetheart?" He asked, trying to keep his voice from straining. "You have a big girl bed, how 'bout brushing your teeth like a big girl?"

Your little girl just pouted. “No, Daddy.” She said firmly, baring her little baby toofers. “You do it.”

His heart strained. Oh her little eyes. They were so cute but she had the same little crease he himself got when he was upset. “Okay, sweetie. Maybe tonight.” He gave in almost immediately. It was pathetic, he’d killed so many people without a second thought, but this little girl had his heart in the palms of her itty bitty hands. Just one look and he was giving in.

He held the little toothbrush and got a small amount of bubblegum toothpaste (she didn’t like the ‘spicy’ kind) and gently held her face while he took care of her teeth for her. She grinned the whole time, very proud of herself for winning once again.

After that ordeal was done, Logan picked her up in the blanket and brought her to the kitchen where eggs and bacon reached his nose. You stood in nothing but Logan’s shirt and very short shorts, yawning while you cooked for your family.

"Mommy!" You heard your child shout, and you looked over your shoulder to see her snuggled up against Logan's hairy chest.

"Good morning, sweetie. Did you brush your teeth?" You asked.

"No! Daddy did it!" She chirped, and Logan smiled rather sheepishly at your unimpressed look.

"You know I can't help it." He sighed, placing her in one of the ranch chairs at the table. He tried to make up for it. "Breakfast smells delicious, honey." Well, he would have said that either way, but it made you smile as you served the food, two egg eyes and a bacon smile.

"There's more if you want seconds." You hummed, sitting down and beginning to eat.

Your daughter freed her arms from the blanket cocoon so she could eat. "Can I feed the horsies today?" She asked happily, pointing to the apples in the fruit bowl.

You and Logan exchanged glances. "'Course, babygirl." Logan said simply. The two horses at the farm were both gentle, but your baby could be pretty loud and scare them. You trusted Logan to keep her safe.

"You have to listen to Daddy and be careful." You warned, really not wanting your baby getting bitten or kicked by a horse.

"Okay, Mommy!" She said, hurriedly finishing her breakfast and was going to go outside.

"Clothes, sweetie." Logan reminded, and she ran back to her room to change. He smiled at you. "She'll be fine, darlin'. I got her."

"I know, I know." You said softly as Logan finished eating and went to change too. The two came back down in matching denim: Logan with jeans and your little girl with overalls.

"Bye Mommy!" She said and ran out, the screen door slamming shut.

"Bye, hon." Logan said with a wink, heading out to spend time with his girl.

i'd love to do a part 2! i probably will, thank u for reading!

[mellowsadistic]

"Mmmmmm!"

"You hush, little girl!" Veronica's mother snapped, bringing the hairbrush down again on her daughter's rapidly reddening backside. "And don't you glare at me like that! I am your mother, young lady, and you will learn to treat me with respect by the time your regression punishment is over!"

Veronica squealed behind her pacifier again as another stinging blow landed on her rear.

Over on the bed, Kylie mewled in fear around her own soother, knowing she'd be next over her auntie's knee. Why had she agreed to sneak out and go partying with her cousin? Her aunt had made it quite plain there was to be no drinking, smoking, or any other 'inappropriate' activities as long as she was living under her roof, but ever since she'd moved in to attend the nearby college, she'd been desperate for a bit of adult excitement.

"Bad girl, Ronnie!" Veronica's mother scolded, delivering swat after swat with the hairbrush. "Very bad girl! You are not a grown-up. I don't care if you're legally an adult! I decide when you get to grow up, not you!"

Kylie would've felt bad for her poor cousin, twenty-one years old and kicking her legs and crying over her mother's knee, if she wasn't more worried about her own hiney. Veronica had lived with those infantilizing rules, along with many others, her whole life. She wasn't even allowed to dress herself in the mornings! Her mother picked all her clothes for her, and she even had a number of outfits specifically designed for punishments, like the kind the two girls were wearing now...

"Six months under toddler rules, Ronnie! You know what that means!"

"Nnnnnn!"

"Yes, little girl! You will wear pull-ups at all times. No more using the toilet for tinkle! You will wet yourself the moment you feel the urge, and you will ask permission, politely, to be escorted to the potty to do your number twos when you need to go. You will wear childish clothes. You will go to bed at eight o' clock. And the same goes for you, young lady!"

Kylie wet her pants a little in fright as her auntie's head snapped around to look in her direction.

"Some time as a toddler ought to do my naughty little niece some good too!"

Kylie whimpered. She could feel the warm, slightly soggy padding pressing against her crotch. It was awful and disgusting and babyish, and the thought that it would become a familiar feeling, that she would be peeing herself every day for the next six months, not to mention being supervised on the toilet while she pooped, made her almost faint with embarrassment.

Veronica had started to bawl. Whatever dignity or resistance she'd tried to hold onto at the beginning of her spanking had gone, and she was left wailing like a little girl, her dummy dropping from her lips as she pleaded. "P'ease, Mama! I sowwy! P'ease dobbit! I be a goo' giwl! I p'omise!"

"You understand why I'm spanking you?" her mother asked, still raining down smacks with the hairbrush.

"Yes, Mama!" Veronica sobbed. Her pale bottom had turned a bright, sore red. "Ronnie was a bad giwl!"

"You admit you deserve to spend the next six months wetting yourself and being treated like a very little girl?"

"Yes, Mama! P'ease!"

"Alright then. Good girl." Veronica's mother lowered the hairbrush and helped her hiccupping daughter off her lap. "Go stand in the corner with your hands on your head. I have another little girl to deal with before I send you to bed."

Kylie started to suck her soother for comfort. Maybe she could talk her way out of this! Then her auntie turned to face her with a look that made her bladder control fail, and a stream of pee-pee flooded into her training pants.

"Your turn, missy. Over my lap. Now!"

[amsznn]

can you do one with dad matt?

him and the reader have a potty training toddler who walks around with a naked bottom half for easier access to the potty 😭 .

the kid has to tell the reader or matt when they need to use the potty so they can take them and theres a lot of accidents and stuff and its really cute

ACCIDENTS - m. sturniolo

it was a regular sunday evening for you and matt. at least, it’s your regular. typically if it was two years ago you and matt would be cuddled up on his bed enjoying the sweet silence and each other’s company.

well those times have changed. especially with your new edition to your family. your baby girl, aria, brought a whole new world to you and matt’s life. bringing joy and sometimes destruction.

and as of right now? she’s bringing destruction.

all you were trying to do was relax a bit on the couch. no matter what anyone says, parenting was not easy. especially not chasing around a toddler that refuses to use the bathroom.

“aria, baby, i need you to go potty.” you try and plead with the stubborn two year old. but she only pouts and turns her back on you letting out a stern, “no!” before running off again.

you heavily sighed before walking towards your daughter. swiftly picking her up, you removed the diapers that were on her. she needed to learn how to use the bathroom on her own eventually. you set your baby down, now bottomless, watching as she ran towards her dads room.

aria bursted into matt’s room as you followed behind, plopping down on the bed. “dada!” your girl’s sweet voice rang through the room before she collided with matt’s leg as he was seated on his desk chair.

“hey my beautiful girl, where are your diapers?” matt questioned softly before holding her up by her armpits. aria only pointed at you that was nearly passed put on the bed from exhaustion.

“she didn’t wanna potty.” was all you mumbled before dozing off. matt could only chuckle but somewhat felt bad since youve been battling with the girl to potty on her own for weeks now.

matt rose up from his seat and carried his daughter to the bathroom before stopping infront of her potty that was next to the big toilet. he sat her down and she only looked at him in confusion.

“sweetheart, if you go potty ill give you ice cream, okay?” maybe bribery wasnt the best parenting technique, but hey, you seemed desperate and worn out so if this could work maybe it could help you. at least thats what matt thought.

“okay, dada!”

matt smiled and nodded before walking out towards the door, making sure to leave it open just in case. “i’ll be right here sweetheart.”

a couple of minutes had passed before matt heard aria yell out, “done!” matt smiled to himself before yelling back. “did you wipe?” the girl answered back with a yes and matt walked into the bathroom.

lets just say..

she did go potty,

she just missed.

the potty.

after cleaning up both the bathroom and his daughter, matt made sure to put a diaper back on aria to avoid the same outcome. by the time he was done you had already woken up to see both your husband and your daughter eating ice cream on the kitchen island.

“guess what?” matt said as he saw your figure emerged from the room. “i went potty, mommy!” your baby proudly said with a mouth filled with ice cream. you couldn’t help but smile and give her a bunch of kisses on her chubby cheeks that you loved.

you also gave matt a bunch of kisses as well as one on his lips, as a thank you.

“i can’t believe you did it.” you said in disbelief as you also grabbed a bowl for ice cream.

“yeah well, there were some accidents.” both your husband and your daughter started giggling like a secret was shared but just for the two of them. you only shrugged, just happy about this milestone.

-

a/n: ugh this was so cute chat i love dad matt

[pucksandpower]

Heyyyyy how are you? Hope you're doing well and taking care of yourself. How is medical school hope you're doing good. So I was thinking about the grid kids series and a scenario appeared in my head. So basically the baby still a toddler say a swear word and when asked who taught her that she just tell she heard that from Yuki, but in reality it was the grid kids that braided her with candy. It's just so funny to me

Grid Kids: Potty Mouth

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids help expand their sister’s vocabulary in interesting ways

Series Masterlist

It’s a lazy Saturday morning and you’re making breakfast. Your toddler daughter is happily perched on Sebastian’s lap at the kitchen island, babbling about anything and everything while he nods along seriously.

The grid kids lounge around, still half-asleep. Game night ran late, fueled by one too many Red Bulls and everyone’s chronic competitiveness.

Charles yawns loudly. “I don’t know how she has so much energy already.”

“Right?” Lando grumbles. “It should be illegal to be awake before 10 am on weekends.”

Max stumbles to the coffee maker, nearly tripping over George who’s fallen back asleep on the floor. Mick and Lance are slumped together on the couch, bleary-eyes barely open.

As you finish cooking, you turn to your daughter. “Okay sweetie, breakfast is ready!”

She grins, kicking her little legs excitedly. As Sebastian goes to lift her into the highchair, she suddenly shrieks “FUCK!”

A stunned silence descends on the room. Eight heads swivel towards the little girl, eyes wide. Sebastian and you exchange horrified looks.

“Where did you learn that word?” You ask gently.

She blinks up at you innocently. “Yuki said it!”

The grid kids practically dive over each other to appear shocked and appalled.

“Yuki? Using language like that?” George exclaims.

“How disgraceful!” Max adds. “We’ll be having a stern talking to with him about this.”

You raise an eyebrow at them.

Something seems … off.

Sebastian kneels to your daughter’s level. “Honigbienchen, are you sure Yuki said that? Not one of your brothers?”

She nods vigorously. “Yuki said it when we were playing race cars!”

The boys subtly sigh in relief.

Crisis averted.

Or so they think.

“You know, I don’t recall Yuki having a chance to play with you recently,” you say slowly.

A tense pause.

Sideways glances are exchanged.

The grid kids develop a sudden fascination with the ceiling.

“Alright boys, enough playing dumb. Who taught her the swear word?” Sebastian asks, his Dad Voice™ making them squirm.

“It was Max!”

“It was Charles!”

“It was Lando!”

“It was Lance!”

“It was George!”

“It was Mick!”

They all exclaim in unison, pointing fingers.

A fierce blame game erupts as their bickering intensifies to chaos.

“Enough!” You shout over the noise.

The six drivers fall silent, heads hanging guiltily.

You sigh, lifting your daughter into her highchair. “We’re very disappointed in all of you. You know she’s at the stage where she repeats everything she hears.”

“We’re sorry,” Mick says quietly. “We should have been more responsible.” The others nod, mumbling apologies.

“And we’re sorry we made you say it was Yuki, munchkin,” Lance adds. “We just didn’t want Mom and Dad to be mad at us.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “Lying makes it worse. But we know you didn’t mean any harm.”

“Tell you what,” you offer. “Whoever teaches her the most educational words this week is forgiven. Good, clean words only!”

The boys’ faces light up. Charles grabs a notepad and they huddle together, beginning to strategize.

You can’t help but smile.

Crisis averted.

***

What follows is a week of mayhem.

“Look Lando, it’s an AARDVARK!” George points excitedly at a cartoon aardvark in a book. “Aardvark starts with A!”

Lando nods seriously. “Aardvark. Aaaaardvark.”

Your daughter claps her little hands. “Aawdvawk!”

The boys high-five. One point for them.

Later, Max drives his toy model RB22 towards her. “Vroom vroom! This is a race car! It has DRS. Can you say drag reduction system?”

She scrunches her nose. “Dwag wedection system!”

“Nice one!” Lance whispers. Max grins, ruffling your daughter’s hair smugly.

At dinner, Charles scans his food. “Mmm, broccoli! This is BROCCOLI!” He holds up a roasted floret. “Can you try and say it?”

“Bwock-lee!” Your daughter squeals through a mouthful of the vegetable. Charles pumps his fist.

Mick doesn’t waste time and pulls out a small globe as soon as she finishes eating, pointing at a certain country. “Look! It’s Germany! That’s where Papa and I come from. Can you say Germany?”

Your daughter scrunches her face in concentration. “Ger...mummy?”

Mick chuckles, “Close enough!”

Sebastian winks at you with a smirk, “Well Mummy sure did conquer Germany, didn’t she?”

You playfully raise an eyebrow, “If by Germany you mean one particularly sexy German driver, then yes, I guess I did.” The grid kids pretend to gag.

Too bad. You’ll take the payback any way you can.

This continues for days. Meal times become vocabulary lessons, walks around the house are accompanied by exaggerated pointing at objects. Books are read with ridiculous enthusiasm, animal noises amplified.

You and Sebastian exchange amused looks as the boys vie for your daughter’s attention, each hoping to teach her the most complex word or phrase. Their efforts have become less about earning forgiveness and more about one-upping each other.

By the end of the week, her vocabulary has expanded exponentially. The boys even taught themselves some new words in the process.

As the boys argue over who should be declared the winner during dinner the following Saturday, Sebastian whistles loudly. “Enough! You all went above and beyond this week with her.”

You smile. “You’re all forgiven. And I think we can thank you for increasing her word bank more in a week than months of normal teaching.”

They cheer, exchanging pleased grins.

You lean down to your daughter’s level. “Now, can we agree no more bad words?”

She nods seriously. “No fuck!”

The room descends into chaos once again.

***

It’s race day and the paddock is hectic as usual. You and Sebastian finally relented and brought your daughter along after weeks of nonstop begging from the grid kids to have their sister on the sideline cheering for them.

As you walk through the pit lane, she squeals and points. “Max! Lando! Chawles! Lance! Mick! Geowge!”

The boys grin, waving enthusiastically as they rush to crowd around her, cooing over how big she’s gotten in the few days they haven’t seen her while she giggles and soaks up the attention.

Nearby, Yuki is chatting with his trainer. Your daughter tugs Sebastian’s hand and skips over to him. “Yuki! Hi Yuki!”

Yuki turns, smiling. “Hi, o-joh-chan! Excited for the race?”

She nods, pigtails bouncing. As Yuki leans down to chat with her, a two-way radio falls off a passing golf cart, narrowly missing his foot.

“Ah shit!” He exclaims before freezing. Your daughter’s eyes go wide. The grid kids stiffen, bracing themselves.

Yuki stares at you and Sebastian in horror, realizing his mistake. “Oops! Uh, I mean ... shoot!”

But it’s too late. A devilish grin spreads across your daughter’s face.

This is her moment.

“SHIT!” She shouts gleefully.

Yuki turns bright red as laughter erupts around him. “I am so sorry!” He sputters. “I didn’t mean to—”

Sebastian just chuckles, patting his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we know it was an accident.”

Your daughter is thrilled with this new word she can very clearly enunciate. She spots two team principals across the paddock.

“Chwistian! Shit!” She yells. “Toto! Shiiit!”

Christian trips over his own feet. Toto turns an alarming shade of splotchy red but can’t help laughing. You and Sebastian hurry over, trying to shush her excited swearing.

The grid kids are crying with laughter. Charles is wheezing. “This is even better than I imagined!”

Max high-fives your daughter. “That’s my girl! You tell them!”

You shoot him a warning look and he gives you an innocent grin. Sebastian scoops up your still-cursing daughter, bouncing her gently. “Alright sweetie, I think that’s enough for today.”

Her lip wobbles. “But it’s fun, Papa.”

The boys are zero help, doubled over cackling. Yuki still looks mortified.

Sebastian kisses your daughter’s forehead, stifling a grin. “I know but let’s keep the excitement PG for now, okay? You can say those words when you’re a grown up too.”

You take her little hand, ready to steer her away before she can scar any more eardrums. As you walk off, she peeks over Sebastian’s shoulder and yells one last farewell.

“Bye Yuki! SHIIIT!”

[michelangleo]

What helps me as an age regressor who has nightmares:

I set my stuffies up all around me, so they can guard me while I sleep (stuffies are the best protectors)

I use multiple nightlights, so there's no dark corners

I'm a cold sleeper so I sleep with multiple blankets, and when I'm completely covered up no one can get me

If you're a hot sleeper, I wake up in cold sweat sometimes, I'll sleep with just my feet covered, and it still makes me feel safer

I recommend bed tents, you can put fairy lights inside and be completely protected without having to use blankets

I make a nest to sleep in

Sometimes when the nightmares are really bad I'll sep up alarms during the night, works best if you're a light sleeper (which I am not)

Regressing before bed helps me, but often it's hard when I'm already scared to go to sleep

Watch your favorite show, or little show to help you regress and fall asleep (I leave on cartoons sometimes all night)

Pick a new stuffie every night to sleep with, or have a dedicated stuffie you sleep with every night, and imagine them as your protector in your dreams, at the very least it helps me fall asleep not scared

I use a comfort item, this could also be a stuffie, but I use a paci

For sometimes padded regressors, make sure you go potty before bed, don't learn the hard way like I did

Your favorite, non-caffeinated drink, warm milk, or in my case I drink chocolate milk (If I was a caregiver I would say no sugary drinks either, but I am an regressor with no caregiver so I will drink apple juice before bed if I want to lol)

Listen to white noise, or in my case I listen to piano music

Feel free to add please

[wittlesissyb4by]

"What's the matter, sweetheart? Can't go? I thought you wanted to use the potty?”

Eric whimpered and whined, clenching and pushing his bladder and sphincter muscles with everything he had, trying to force anything out into the toilet. But he’d just unloaded it all into his diaper only moments before.

Not even 10 seconds after pissing and pooping himself in the nursery, his Mistress came in. “Should the wittle pamper princess try to use the potty today??”

It was almost as if she did it on purpose, like she’d been watching him through the monitor as he crouched and emptied himself into his diaper.

It was the the quickest change she ever gave him. Usually it was a long, drawn-out, humiliating experience, but this time she seemed to be in a hurry.

“Look at how many diapers you’re going through per day” She said while balling up his soiled diaper and motioning to the sack of others in the corner in the room. “Surely my pretty sissy gurl can learn to use the toilet!”

Eric tried to tell her he didn’t have to go yet, that if she just waited an hour or two, he would be ready to pee through his penis prison again, but a pacifier in his mouth silenced his protest.

“You have 30 seconds.” She said once he’d hiked up his skirt and his cheeks hit the porcelain. “Prove to Mommy that you can use the potty like a big girl!”

Eric’s pitiful pleas for more time were ignored. He could maybe squeeze out a few drops, but they probably wouldn’t even make it out of his chastity cage and into the bowl. Before he knew it, Mistress’s watch was dinging.

“Awww!! That’s too bad, sweetheart!” She cooed, not sounding the least bit sorry. “I guess we’ll have to put you back in diapers. The potty just seems too big and scary for you! Maybe next month you’ll be less intimidated!”

Eric cried genuine tears as she took him by the hand and led him back to the nursery to get a poofy potty back around his waist where it belongs.