I woke up in the morning with a horribly messy diaper. Every time I moved it squished beneath me and the smell of ammonia was overpowering. I started crying without even trying to call for help. All of a sudden, her daughter was in the room, undressing, cleaning me up and rediapering me. Then she carried me to the kitchen and strapped me into the high chair, tying a bib around my neck. I closed my eyes and yawned sleepily while Gina prepared my breakfast. The next thing I knew she had spooned a heaping helping of baby cereal into my open mouth.
