There was enough sunlight leaking through her curtains that she could see to shuffle across the room to her closet. She shed her pajamas, tossing them back in the direction of her bed, and stood there in just her diaper, staring at her new outfit, hanging there, waiting.
In the mirror on the back of the closet door, she saw the crotch of her diaper begin to sag. For some reason, though that was hardly an unusual sight, it got a giggle out of her. Maybe it was just looking at her new clothes – perhaps not “grown-up”, per se, but not little girl-ish either – while wearing only something so clearly babyish. Or maybe she wasn’t even thinking about that, but rather just about how, no matter how stupid it was, and how much she sometimes thought she should give all of it up, it was just nice.