She headed upstairs and into her room. Standing at the closet door, looking down on her diapers, however, she discovered herself to be immobilized. She couldn’t throw them out. She picked one up and the smell wafted up through her nose and the soft feel of it in her hand brought on a rush of feeling and excitement.
“I don’t want to be a baby!” she whined. “I want to be an adult. I’m almost eighteen. I want to be my sister’s role model and I want to be an adult and I want to go off to college and get a job and be an adult.”
“Perhaps,” the voice argued, “the real mature thing in this situation is to know you’re still your mommy’s baby.”
“Shut up!”
