Megan leaned in to hug her parents. As she did so, she relaxed the rigid posture she had been purposefully maintaining throughout the conversation. Before she could even think about finding another way to stop it, her bowels relaxed and she filled her diaper. Shamed by her flatulence and lack of control, Megan abruptly pulled away and cast her gaze down low.
“It’s OK,” Nancy comforted, noting the panic in her eyes. She wasn’t expecting Megan to mess herself either, but after her whole spiel about being there for her, now was no time to not lend support.
“No it’s not,” she sulked.
“Megan, why don’t you come here a minute,” Drew quietly urged.
She hesitantly approached and he pulled down her shorts and placed her firmly upon his lap.
“Dad…” She felt vulnerable and scared.
“I don’t know if you remember,” he said. “But you used to sit on my lap and I used to read to you all the time.”
“That was Mom.”
“No,” Nancy interjected. “On nights when you couldn’t sleep, it was your father.”
“So?”
“So. You had dirty diapers then and it didn’t bother me, just as it won’t bother me now. You are my daughter, Megan, and nothing is going to change that.”
Megan gradually relaxed and allowed her father to comfort her. She hardly even flinched when Nancy called her siblings down.
“Who ripped one?” Stephen remarked in reaction to the smell. When he noticed Megan in diapers sitting on their father’s lap, he burst out into laughter. Carrie appeared a moment later, no less surprised but considerably more tactful.

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