Chapter Text
I've tried everything, but Dean refuses to be potty trained.
We confirmed from the doctor that Dean is officially three two months ago. It took him just over a year to reach two, but then almost three years to reach three. Ask me how done I am with changing diapers. But he wasn't ready before and he's trying to tell Daddy he's not ready now. I've been trying to make him ready.
We decided to hold off having him a birthday until we leave for our now annual trip back to Texas, everyone back there is excited to spend his birthday with him. In preparation, Cas and I thought it would be nice if he were out of diapers, so I've been working hard to achieve that.
It's worked out so well having Dally here, he's got one more year 'till he's done his undergrad and then he's talking about a Masters. Thank God. I've grown attached to having him here with us, I don't want him to go.
But currently, I'm looking for my toddler, who ran off. I suppose I have to stop calling him a toddler. He's not a toddler anymore, but he was one for a long time. From here he'll be my little one and said little one is hiding from me because he knows I want him to use the potty.
When Mama, Georgia and I trained all the others, it was easy. No one really wanted to stay in diapers. Dally was traumatized whenever he did have an accident and hated being wet. Not so for my babe. Dean doesn't care. I can just hear his thoughts on how it's my fault he's peed on the floor for not putting a diaper on him. He simply removes all wet clothes and runs around naked, which is his preference.
For the past five days, I've being trying this new method, one I heard about through one of the online parent groups (yeah I can't believe that me, Sam Winchester had to consult with a parent group). It's sort of a five-day potty training boot camp in which you stay home with your child. You leave their diaper off, you don't go anywhere; you get them to sit on the potty every hour. It's been four days of us getting cabin fever and Dean peeing (and pooing) all over the house. This method sucks and I don't recommend it. Least not for my tyke. Let's just say he's already won the diaper war and has his diaper back.
"Dean Daniel, where are you, Sur?"
I hear the cutest little giggle coming from behind the plant. It doesn't help that he's the most adorable monkey around town. I spot him and snatch him up. He continues to giggle at me, while I head toward the potty. "Was hidin' Daddy," I decipher from his smooshed, soother blocked words.
"I know you were, Daddy found you."
We have a potty in almost every room of the house, just in case we can get him to it. We have this theory that if he actually uses it once, he'll be so darn proud of himself, he'll want to do it all the time. I stand him in front of the one in the living room and take off his pants and the diaper he's wearing. "You're going to sit on the potty for a few minutes, baby boy."
He rips his soother out. "No way! Not sittin' on that stupid thing, Daddy."
"Where did you learn that word, Mister?"
"No place," he says biting his lip.
"It's not a nice word and you're not to use it. Do you understand me, Sur?"
His eyes well up. He doesn't like my scolding voice. "Uh-huh, Daddy." He puts his soother back in.
"It's okay, Sugar. Now you going to be a nice boy and sit on the potty a few minutes for Daddy?"
"Don't want to."
Frustrating. I could just sit him on it anyway and I may just, but he'll scream his head off. "I know, Dean sits on his potty for Daddy and you can have a candy." Yep. You heard it here folks. Sam Winchester has reached desperate and I'm bribing my child with candy. Uh, it's not candy-candy though. I've got versions that contain cane sugar versus the high-fructose garbage. Dean doesn't get that kind, but he doesn't know the difference and it's still very much sugar. At least it's natural.
"Candy?"
"Yeah. One candy." I'm hopeful; he's thinking about it.
He takes his soother out. "How long?"
Why did my son have to be a con artist in his last life? I'm pretty sure most three-year-old would miss asking 'how long.' "Five minutes." Great. Now I'm negotiating with a three-year-old. This is what my life has come to.
"No way. Dean, Dean, Dean only does it for seven minutes Daddy."
I smile inside. That's where Dean is like a three-year-old. They have no concept of time. He thinks seven minutes is shorter than five. "Okay, Dean Bean. You win. Seven minutes on the potty and you get a candy."
"Deal Daddy." His soother goes back in his mouth.
I'm holding my breath because I almost can't believe it. He's actually going to do it. He sits down on his potty, with no tears for the first time. God I love bribery. Not that I haven't already tried that, but I've been saving the candy thing. I've bribed him with other things he wasn't interested in, apparently. Even pie wasn't good enough. "You want Daddy to read you a story?"
"Please, Daddy."
I take longer than anyone has ever taken to read him "I have to Go," by Robert Munsch. He sits there in nothing but his t-shirt and Michael necklace laughing. He thinks that book is funny. At the end of seven minutes, he hasn't gone, but I feel extremely victorious. I do realize I should have told him he has to actually go pee to get the candy, but I'll try that next time. "Diaper please," he says, because he won't wear pull-ups.
"Okay, Dean. C'mon." I put him in a diaper and some shorts and we walk to the kitchen to get his 'candy.' I give him one little chewy gummy-type candy. "Thank you, Daddy." Least I've got a polite little boy, most of the time.
Five minutes later, he pees in his diaper. "M'wet Daddy."
"Lordy be Dean. Why won't you use the potty?"
His soother is popped out again, he doesn't seem to mind continuously popping it in and out when he talks. "Dean told you, but you said it isn't nice Dean 'Chester."
He calls himself Dean Chester. It's so fudging cute. I sigh. "You think the potty is stupid," I say.
"Yeah. And under's wear too."
That's it. I'm abandoning this method.
I change Dean's diaper then I let Pala in. I had kept her out, because it was just another thing while I was trying to potty train Dean and I wanted all my focus on him. He gets excited to have his dog inside with him. She's quite a bit bigger than he is, but she's well trained and takes good care of him. She's equally excited to come in and she barks at him. "Hi Pala," he says patting her. "Why's she outside so long, Daddy?"
"Because Dean was supposed to use the potty."
"Not usin' it Daddy."
"I know. But what are you going to do when you're older?"
"Diapers."
I laugh. "Adults can't use diapers Dean Bean."
"Can so."
And actually when I think about it, adults can use diapers. Great. Now I'm losing arguments with my three-year-old.
Our chef Andrew, comes into the kitchen with bags of fresh groceries. "Sorry I'm a little behind, sir. The market was insane."
"No problem, Andy," Dean says. I shake my head at him and pick my little monster up.
Andrew laughs. "Thank you little Winchester."
"Thank-you Andrew. Castiel is going to be late anyway. I'm going to take this one outside," I decide on second thought.
"We, we, we goin' outside, Daddy?" he says excited. We haven't been outside in four days and believe me he's asked.
"For a little bit. Let's get shoes on."
I put him down and he runs to the sliding door we just let Pala in, she follows us even though she was just happy to be inside. Really she just wants to be where we are. I let Dean take the time to put on his own shoes. I'd still do everything for him, but I know I have to let him some things. He needs to be independent much as I both hate seeing him grow up and worry he's not growing up at all. Sometimes he ages so slow, it's nerve-wracking.
It takes longer, but when he gets them on I open the door and Pala and I follow him outside. He runs fast for the playground. I sometimes wonder if he subconsciously thinks he's running from demons. He never says anything about it.
Dean has become far more adept at climbing things and I don't really have to help him, so I let him climb all over his playground, while Pala and I watch. Of course I have to congratulate him every time he makes it to the top of the ladder. He waits for it and reminds me if I don't.
It's not long before Dal approaches us. He's done school for the semester since it's June, but, he was out with friends today. I don't blame him—the potty training thing has got to be my least fun thing about the Dean experience so far. "You give up?" he says.
"Yeah, I'm done. Dean and I decided today that he really can wear diapers forever. Otherwise, why would they even invent adult diapers?"
Dal laughs his loud laugh and Dean hears him right away. "Uncle Dal!" He slides down the slide and run to his uncle who throws him up in the air and sets him on his hip.
"Dean sat on the dumb ol' potty today," he tells him.
"Dumb is not acceptable either Mr. Winchester," I say, but don't scold him as harshly.
"Nothin' is," Dean says.
Dal laughs. "You did? Daddy seems to think you're wearing diapers forever."
"Dean is."
"Then why sit on the potty?"
"Candy." He squirms to get down and return to the playground. Dally's laughing his face off at me.
"What happened to 'I probably won't need these, but just in case?'"
"Today I reached just in case."
Next to arrive is Michael. He stops by for dinner occasionally, but not as often as he used to. He's taller now, looks about twelve or thirteenish. His features are more cut and less boyish. "Hello Mr. Winchester. Dallas."
"Heya Michael," Dal says.
"Hi Michael," I say.
"Michael!" Dean notices right away and comes running back toward us. Michael picks him up as Dean bounds into his arms.
"Hello, Dean."
"C'mon. Let's play."
"You play. I'll stand here and ensure you don't smash your head in. Are you wearing a diaper?" Michael asks Dean, but looks at me. "I thought today was the last day of potty training boot camp?"
"It was tomorrow actually and that's over."
"No potty!" Dean says getting fed up with everyone asking him and especially since it's Michael. He wants Michael to think highly of him.
"On second thought Mr. Winchester. I think I will go play with Dean. He looks like he needs some cheering up."
"Thank you Michael. Would you mind if Dal and I went inside? I could use a…cup of tea." Where you see tea read break. I need a break. I love my little monster more than anything in the world, but it's been a trying four days.
"No problem Mr. Winchester," he says.
~GUW~
Yeah, fuck. Michael doesn't suddenly want to play with me; I'm not stupid. He's going to have a 'chat' with me.
Daddy's gone with Uncle Dal. I fucking love my daddy but I could use a little break from him. Four days locked in that house with him trying to get me to use that fucking plastic toilet? Yeah. We need to go our separate ways for a bit.
Michael turns his glowing blue angel eyes on me. "Is it okay to speak to me like that Dean?"
"Fuck off, Michael."
"Wouldn't Daddy like to know that is little bitty Dean says words like 'fuck?'
"You do too."
"Yes. I do. Well I won't tell him, for now, but you will behave yourself. Now why won't you use the potty?"
"It's, it's, it's stupid!" Yeah, I fucking do that now and there doesn't seem to be a way to control it. I repeat random words sometimes.
"Your tiny kid brain would think that an acceptable answer. You aren't really planning on wearing diapers forever are you?"
"Yep. Under's wear is stupid too."
"You can't."
"Can too."
"The only adults that wear diapers are those who are incontinent."
"What does n-cont…contin… what does that mean?"
"It means one cannot control his or her bladder."
"What's, bladder?"
"It's the place in your body that holds pee."
"Ew. Dean doesn't have that."
"Yes you do. Everyone has one."
"Not me."
"It's not something you get to decide."
"Can too."
"Can not."
"Can too."
"Can no—will you stop it?"
"Not goin' pee on the potty, ever never."
"You will someday."
"All see."
"It's I'll see. As in, I will see. Not 'all' see. That doesn't make sense. And it would be nice if you did start saying some 'I's.'"
"Stop it Michael. Youse is just bein' mean!"
"I'm being mean? What do you think you're being like to your daddy by not going potty?"
He probably has a point, but I don't care and I don't like it. I start sniffling a little. It's been a pretty exhausting day. I'm tired of fighting with everyone over this.
"Oh, come here then." He picks me up and I curl into him. "I'm just trying to help. Is there something you're not telling us?"
"No. Dean tol' everyone already. Don't like the stupid potty."
"Hmmm," he says to himself.
"C'we play now Michael? Please?" I'm still sniffling and wiping at tears, but I'm trying not to cry like a baby in front of Michael.
"Okay, Duck. We won't say another word about it."
~GUW~
I come in the door to a very serious looking tea party. Chef Andrew is just heading out the door, he tells us the dishes of hot are in the oven and the salad is ready on the counter. "What's going on? Where's Dean?"
Sam's already balling his fists. I know what that means; things didn’t got well today and he knows I'm just going to tell him to try again. The balled fists are a clear indication he wants to argue with me, which is not on. We can have a discussion about it; he knows this, so I assume this means he doesn't feel there's a discussion to have; he's decided and that's that.
But some time, not so very long ago he and I made a decision. I didn't feel confident with Dean when he was littler and I told Sam I would just follow his lead with every and all things Dean. That of course blew up in our faces. It isn't our dynamic; it's not how we work best. Without the firm structure we were used to, Sam relaxed everything. And relaxed is being nice; he basically let Dean do whatever he wanted. Yes, we are still talking about the same Sam. Sam, Captain of the ship Sam who almost flawlessly ran a crew of a billion Colts.
I think part of it had to do with Dean being his own cute little bear cub, but most of it was that he was now in a role he neither wanted, nor had lived on a permanent basis for a very long time. Everything was okay for awhile, amazing even, but slowly things began to slip; it was Sam's way of asking me to take over again, without actually asking me to take over again, because, well, he couldn't out right ask. Technically me throwing the reigns at him was still a decision I had made, he didn't want to 'argue' that with me either.
So, I came home one day to a completely destroyed house, a Dean screeching all over the place, and Sam watching over Dean like there was nothing wrong with the picture.
"What's going on in here?" I asked.
"Well, Dean wanted to play with the pots and pans, but then he got bored with that and dumped out his toy box. And, oh, sorry about the plant, I tried to stop him, told him no at least seven times, but he wouldn't listen, so I gave up. It's just a plant Cassy, it can be cleaned up…" he went on like that for twenty minutes telling me all the things he couldn't stop our son from doing, things that of course he could and had in the past. So long as it wasn't threatening, he just let him do it rather than make him cry.
It was one of the hardest conversations of our marriage to have. The trickiest part is understanding it's not that Sam isn't capable of disciplining Dean, of course he is. But now I'd left everything completely up to him, so he reverted to Colt. But not just Colt, because believe it or not Colt's do have some modicum of discipline (just not a lot in my opinion) it was Colt on Xanax. After an almost all night talk, Sam basically asked me if I would be 'the bad guy,' with Dean. He wanted the structure back. He wanted particular things to be because 'I said so.'
"If I do this Sam, what I say goes. No arguing with me about hard decisions. You aren't going to like some of my decisions and neither is Dean."
He readily agreed. "Yes, Cassy, please. I trust you. You're so good with him now. You've learned so much. I want my big alpha male back."
That's the Cole's notes of a long story. Of why my Sam's fists are balled. We've of course returned to our place of happy medium, where Sam makes all the smaller decisions for Dean day to day; he's got no problem disciplining Dean once again. But the potty training thing has become a big decision. We're supposed to talk about it and I decide. I have a feeling he's already decided without me.
"He's with Michael outside Cassy, I'll go get him."
Yeah, see? I'm right. He's not supposed to be outside. "No, hold on. Excuse us for a moment, will you Dal?"
He nods and leaves. Sam's sitting at the bench style kitchen table we have, tea mug in front of him, staring at it.
"What's going on, Sam?"
"I can't do it. I can't believe it. I've trained countless kids, but I can't seem to train my own son."
"The method you've been trying these four days, it's not working?"
"It's not."
"There's still one more day. It was supposed to take five. Let's finish the one more day, Sam."
He balls his fists harder. "Please, Cas. I can't do one more day."
"We committed to five days."
"I know we did Cassy, but it's not working and it's exhausting both of us. In all these months I've been trying, these four days have definitely been the worst."
"Do you have another strategy?"
"Not yet Cas, but—"
"Then we go ahead as planned."
"Yes, Cas."
We turn to the sound of the sliding door; Dean climbs inside with Pala and Michael at his heels. "Papa!" Our little boy runs to me and I grab him up pressing kisses all over his face.
"Did you miss me, Kiddo?"
"Yeah, Papa."
"I missed you too."
We all sit down to eat, including Michael who is almost like a barnacle around here. I feel like he never goes home; I'd like to scrape him away so he'd float out to sea. Dinner feels tense for some reason, but I have no idea why, unless, has it really got to this state because of the whole potty training fiasco? I haven't exactly helped out as much as I should because work has been crazy lately. Maybe I'll rectify the situation after dinner. I'll have a go with Dean and the potty. How hard can it be?
When Dean's all done, I pick him up off the bench (our table isn't too tall, he doesn't need a booster seat) and tell him, "okay, Kiddo. Time to try the potty with Papa."
"But, but, but. Don't want to, Papa. Dean doesn't like it."
"I know you don't, but Papa says you have to. We must do what Papa says."
"Noooo. No Papa!"
"Excuse me little man. You don't tell your papa no."
"Daddy! Daddy, please!" he says scrambling to get down.
"You can sit on the potty, or the naughty step," I say firmly. There, that should clear things up. "Chose."
That calms him down, but he firmly says, "naughty step."
Sam is trying not to smile at me by biting his cheeks. "Okay. Naughty step it is Dean."
I sit him on there, but somehow I feel like the jerk when he glares at me as he hugs his knees. I count to three in my head and walk back to the kitchen. "That's what I've been dealing with for four days, Cassy."
"Okay. You've made your point, Sam. What do we do about it?"
"If I may interject, Mr. Winchester, sir?"
At least the little urchin is respectful. "Yes, Michael?" I say through grit teeth.
"It's the potty Dean doesn't like."
"Yes, we know that Michael, honey. He wants to wear diapers forever," Sam says.
"Yes. He'd rather wear diapers than use the potty, but what if he used the regular toilet?"
The toilet? That's crazy. He's too little. But Dal and Sam are already having a private brother-brother talk without words. I can tell their minds are spinning with ideas from Michael's input. "Cheerios," they suddenly say at the same time.
"Cheerios?"
"Of course, Michael! You're a genius," Sam says.
"He is?"
"Dally you get the step stool. I'll get the cheerios, Michael come with us. Cas, you'd better be the one to get Dean, meet us in his bathroom upstairs." Sam's grinning ear-to-ear, happier than I've seen him in days. Dal's excited. Michael doesn't seem to know what's going on, but he follows Sam. I think I'd better just do as I've been told.
I go back out to Dean who's still on the naughty step, but now he's got his head in his knees, hugging them and crying his eyes out, his little body shaking. Yep. I'm an asshole. It's the kind of crying that I'm hearing; that's why I know I'm an asshole. It's not just the 'Dean didn't get his way' cry, that one doesn't bother me. It's his heartbroken sob, and I know Papa wasn't being a good Dean listener. "Okay Dean. Come see Papa." I'm lucky Dean is extremely forgiving.
He perks up right away and reaches for me. "De-dean's s-s-sorry, Pa-papa," his jagged little crying voice pushes out, clearly scared I'm never going to forgive him for misbehaving.
"Papa's sorry too. Papa was too harsh, but you can't say no to Papa when he says something."
"Okay, Papa. Don’t like that potty," he says apologetically.
"What if Papa told you, you never have to see that potty again?" I know I'm making this promise too soon, but I have complete faith in whatever it is that Sam and Dal are doing.
"Thank-you, Papa! Just gonna wear diapers for always. Dean doesn't mind," he says squeezing my neck tight. "Love you Papa."
"Love you too, Angel. C'mon. I think Daddy's got something to show you upstairs."
I keep him on my hip as he squeezes me tight and bring him to the upstairs bathroom. The step stool is in front of the toilet; Dal and Sam are smiling like loons. Michael's got a confused scowl on his face.
"Hey Uncle Dal," Sam says when Dean and I enter. "I have to pee, do you?"
"Funny you should ask Sammy, I do have to pee."
"Should we pee in a potty?" Sam says.
"No way. Potty's are silly. I've got a better idea," Dal says.
Dal reaches into the cereal box. They aren't actual Cheerios, they're a brand called "Organic-O's" that Sam buys for Dean instead. But they look a lot like Cheerios. He sprinkles some into the toilet. Then both he and Sam unzip their pants, pull out their dicks and start peeing into the toilet and aim at the Cheerios with their pee streams, almost like they're using their dicks as a laser guns. Michael looks disgusted, but when Dean starts laughing, Michael doesn't look quite so disgusted anymore.
I bring him closer so he can see better. He points and laughs as Sam and Dal really make a show of shooting the Cheerios, but eventually they run out of pee. "Again, Daddy!" he says.
"Aw, Dean Bean, we'd like to, but we're all out of pee. Wait, I know. Maybe Dean and Papa want to try?"
"Dean does it?" He can't believe his good luck at getting to try something that looks like so much fun.
"Yep. Dean does it."
He nods excited. I give him to Sam and Sam pulls his pants and diaper off. He stands him on the stool. I trade places with Dal and pull out my penis. Dean watches closely to what I'm doing; how I'm holding my penis and tries to mimic it. "Can Daddy help you a little Dean Bean?"
"Please, Daddy." Sam just guides Dean's hands a little, so they're more firmly on his 'little Dean.'
"Okay, Papa and Dean. You ready?"
Dean nods. I begin by letting a trickle out of my penis, Dean looks up and smiles at me, then back at his daddy. "C'mon baby boy, shoot the Cheerios," Sam says.
It's a little trickle at first, but then Dean pushes out more pee and hits one of the Cheerios. "Got it Papa!"
"Good job, Kiddo."
He stops though and looks over at Michael who's clearly trying to fade into the background; I stop peeing too in order to save it in case I need to coax Dean again. "Michael does it too," Dean says.
"Oh no. I'm good."
We all know Dean's waiting for Michael to join in, so we all look pleadingly over at him. "You can't be serious. You want me to join in on this little family pee party?"
Yep. That's what we're asking him to do. Nope, none of us feel weird about it, so long as Dean will pee in the toilet. "It's 'cause he's continent, prolly. He tol' me afore. Think it means he can't pee," Dean explains sagely.
"That's incontinent and I'm not—oh never mind." Michael joins us whipping out his dick. "Well, carry on then," Michael says.
Dean laughs as he starts peeing into the toilet again with Michael and me, all of us aiming for Cheerios. "Got it! Got one Daddy!"
"Ha, ha! I got several," Michael says. "I win."
"No. Dean wins," Dean informs him. I shake off my penis when I run out of pee and try not too laugh at them. I do smile wide.
"You did it Dean Bean!" Sam says picking Dean up and kissing him all over. "You peed in the toilet like a big boy!"
We all zip our penises back in. "I think this calls for a celebration," I say.
"How about ice cream, sweetheart?" Sam says.
"Yeah Daddy."
~GUW~
"You owe me for that, Dean. I peed in a toilet across from your papa. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?"
I don't know what he's talking about. That was seriously fun. "You're apposed to be readin' to me. It's time for all the Deans to go to sleep Daddy says."
"Your speech and your grammar are atrocious."
"What's 'trocious?"
"It means, not good."
"Oh. Say that then."
"Or you could learn some new words."
"Read Michael."
"All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, "Oh, why can't you remain like this for ever!" This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end," he reads.
But I'm already getting tired. It's been a long day. I yawn. I'm all snuggled up to him as he reads. "That's it. Close your eyes my little Duck. Tomorrow's going to be a better day than this one."
"You comin' back tomorrow?"
"If I can."
"Why you can't?"
"That's hard to explain. I just can't."
"But you'll come back sometime?"
"Always."
~GUW~
When I enter the bedroom Sam is waiting, kneeling, with the black paddle out. "Put that away, Sam."
"But I broke a rule, Cas, you can't just—"
"I can't just what?" Giving him my 'are you really challenging me,' eyes.
"I'm sorry, Cas. I'll put it away."
I sit on the bed. I'm only in a pair of black boxer briefs, but Sam is completely naked. After he's put the paddle away, he returns to me and I pull him up and guide him over my lap. I open with a firm swat. "You did break a rule, but it was my fault you did. I haven't been providing proper guidance."
"I make my own choices Cassy."
I give him another firm swat, hard enough he hisses this time. "I'm talking, Samuel." I wait to see if he's going to be quiet, rubbing his beautiful ass, deciding where I'll put my next swat. Left cheek. I spank him again. When I think I've got his attention, I start. "I've been working too much lately and unfortunately that's not likely to change for a bit, but you've been left to deal with Dean and I haven't been much help except to be a domineering prick. Would you agree?"
"Definitely not, I like when you're domineering."
"I haven't been helpful though. And I can't say I'm likely to be anymore helpful with what's going on at work, but I will listen harder to both you and Dean." I spank him ten more times alternating cheeks. This may seem kind of fucked up to you. I'm the one who's fucked up, yet he's getting the spanking. I hope you can see by now that he's not being punished. We're reestablishing safety. I'm telling him he can depend on me, even if I'm not perfect. Sam's the one who taught me this one.
"I know you will Cassy, but Cassy I need…"
"You need something harder than my hand, Baby?"
"Please," he chokes out. He's already starting to cry. This has been rough on him, rougher than I've been able to pick up on at present.
"All right then. Go grab my wooden paddle." It's important it's not the black one, that's for rule breaking only. And yes he did technically break the rule, but I want it to be clear that despite the broken rule, this time calls for a different kind of spanking because of the circumstances surrounding the breaking of that rule.
He's quick and when he returns I begin without further discussion. His ass is fairly red and looks sore, before I know he's done. I don't even let him dwell over my lap, I pull him up on the bed with me and we lie there wrapped together as he finishes crying. I'll rub lotion on him in a bit. "I'm sorry Baby."
"Don't apologize Cas, please. I shouldn't have made that decision without you."
"I wasn't likely to listen Sam."
"That's what I signed on for. No one would have gotten hurt if we'd gone the one more day—it just would have been the day from hell."
"I don't want you to have days from hell. So I'm glad you broke the rule. You needed to break the rule; you needed the spanking and I needed to see." Having Dean has changed me so much. I'm still fairly ridged, controlling, protective and obsessive, but I've learned to bend some. Well, bending as much as someone like me can bend.
"Thanks for that spanking, Cas. I so needed that."
"Good, Baby. Glad to oblige. But what do we do from here? I'm having a hard time imaging that Dean's just going to comply from here. And sure he's peed in the toilet, but how do we get him to do the other thing?"
"There are smaller, Dean sized toilet seats we can install on the toilets. Dal and I are going to do it tomorrow. I was so focused on trying to get Dean to use the potty, I forgot they existed. I think that will work. And if it doesn't, Cas, I think we need to let it go. He'll go at some point. I'd rather just wait for him than continue to force him. This is one of those times where we need to let Dean decide."
"Rumor has it, our boy also does not like 'under's wear.'"
Sam laughs. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do about that yet. One thing at a time though. It will all work out, Cas. I know it."
If he says so, I believe him. "Okay, Sam. I'm in for that. I think you're right. Let's abort operation potty training and how do you say it? Just go with it? Why do I feel like I've been hustled by a Colt?"
Sam laughs. "No really, Cassy. If you think we should keep trying, I'll find something else. I'm just telling you what I think."
"After tonight. I'm convinced. Oh god, his little face Sam—it's really tearing him up. I like your plan. I support it. Let me know what I can to help."
"I love you, Cassy."
"I love you too, Baby. But enough of this heavy stuff for now, I think some congratulations are in order for a certain genius Daddy."
Sam smiles wide as I crawl down his body then swallow up his cock.
~GUW~
"Peanuuuut! Peanut butter! Jelly! Peanuuuut! Peanut Butter! Jelly!" I'm singing for Daddy as he gets me my breakfast and am sitting like a good boy at the table with Tigger. He's going to help me eat. He's also guarding my soother. Yes, I'm three and still have a soother. Another thing I plan to keep forever.
"That's a good song Dean Bean," he says putting a plate of toast and peanut butter and jelly in front of me, along with some juice. "You have to go pee yet?"
"No Daddy."
"But you'll tell Daddy, and we'll go shoot at cheerios together?"
"Yeah Daddy! It's fun!"
"Okay. And you sure you don't want to put underwear on? If you pee in the toilet, you don't need a diaper."
"Dean's sure, Daddy."
"Okay, but you might regret it when we can't get you out of your diaper fast enough and you miss out on shooting Cheerios."
"Dean's fast, Daddy."
He sighs. "And stubborn."
"What's stubburn?"
"It means you won't do anything but the things you want to do, no matter what anyone else says."
That does sound like me. "Yeah Daddy. Dean's stubburn."
For some reason, it makes him laugh. Don't know why—he said it. I was just agreeing. Uncle Dal walks in. "I'm going out to get what we talked about Sammy, I'll eat when I get back." Daddy nods at him. "Hey there half-pint. Looks like you got peanut butter and jelly?"
"Yep and Dean's stubburn 'cause m'not wearin' under's wear." I want to show him I learned a new word from Daddy.
For some reason he looks at Daddy and they're both smiling really huge and biting their cheeks. "Okay, Half-pint. See you in a bit."
Daddy sits with me, but doesn't start his breakfast, he's waiting for Papa. I wonder if I should wait on mine, but the peanut butter and jelly looks so fucking good. "Go ahead Dean Bean," he says. If Daddy says it's okay, I'm gonna eat. I dig in.
"Wow Kiddo. Peanut butter and jelly?" Papa says when he sits at the table with us.
"Nana's jelly," Daddy tells him. I like Nana's jelly. "It's a special occasion. Dean said he's going to tell Daddy when he needs to pee and we'll go shoot Cheerios."
"Sounds like you guys get to have all the fun. Papa has to go to boring old work."
"Sounds like you need to be stubburn like Dean, Papa. Then youse can stay home."
Papa looks at Daddy and he's smiling too. I didn't realize stubborn makes people so happy.
I eat all my breakfast. Always do, yet I always get congratulated for it like I've never done it before. I'm pretty much a rock star around this house. Everyone's interested in what Dean's doing and I get praised for the smallest of things.
"I will take your suggestion under advisement, Dean," Papa says as he gets ready to leave.
"What's that?" They're always saying such big words, but I'm gonna learn as many as I can.
"Take your suggestion under advisement? Means, I will remember what you said and perhaps do that thing when the right time arises."
"Oh. Thank you, Papa." I'm very polite. Well except to Michael sometimes, but he can be a real dick.
He stands and picks me up out of my seat, squishing me to him. "I love you so much little boy," Papa says. "Can you stay like this forever?"
"You're silly Papa. Dean has to grow up someday."
"Oh yeah? Why's that? If you can wear diapers forever, why not just stay a little boy too?"
"Um, 'cause then Dean hasta move to Neverland. And it's only little boys and girls that can go there. Don't wanna leave my daddies."
"Well reasoned, son. Besides I would forbid it. Peter Pan can't have you. You're mine and Daddy's little boy." He kisses my cheek and sets me near Pala on the floor. She always sits by me when we eat, just in case I drop something. She's very helpful that way.
He pulls Daddy to him and gives him a long kiss. "I'm sorry, Baby. It's another long one today. Just eat dinner without me. And I think I have to T-R-A-V-E-L next week."
I'm not fucking stupid. Whenever they spell shit, it's shit they don't want me to know. Well I'm gonna learn how to spell too. Assholes.
"It's okay, Cassy. We'll talk later." Papa kisses Daddy again, as I pet Pala and try to figure out what they're talking about.
When Papa's long gone I ask Daddy, "what's T-R-V-L Daddy?"
"How'd you remember all that?"
"Dean's smart."
"Too smart," he frowns. Isn't it good I'm smart? "Papa's going away next week, Sugar."
I tear up. "Papa stays with Daddy and Dean."
Daddy picks me up. "He always comes back, baby boy."
I cuddle into him, not fucking happy about this news, the news they tried to hide, and sniffle and wipe tears. "Maybe we can have Michael sleep over when Papa's away. Would you like that, Dean Bean?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, we'll ask Papa later."
I stay clung to him as he cleans up a little bit. When he's done he says, "okay. Daddy has to pee. You want to pee with me?"
"Okay, Daddy." He puts me down and I run to the stairs. He helps me with my pants and diaper and I climb the step stool.
"If Daddy pees with you, I can't help you aim. You think you can try on your own?"
"Dean does it, Daddy," I assure him.
"Okay." He puts some new Cheerios in the toilet and we have fun shooting at them together. I do dribble some onto the toilet seat and the step stool and my feet, but Daddy says it's okay. It can all be cleaned up and it's fine because I'm practicing. Yeah. Let's just be glad Michael's not here to see the mess.
Daddy cleans me up. "How about a pull-up Dean?"
"Don't like those, Daddy. Diaper please."
"They're the same as diapers, Dean and they're faster."
"No thank you Daddy."
We go to my room where I have a bed that's lower to the ground than Papa and Daddy's bed. It's just for Dean, they told me. I grab a new soother off my little side table, pop it in my mouth and lay my half-naked self down for Daddy. He puts a new diaper on me and some shorts.
"Thank you for peeing with Daddy, Dean."
When Uncle Dal returns, he's got big bags with him, but he sets them down and takes me out to play with Pala, 'till he notices me getting sleepy. Fucking tiny body. "Okay, Half-pint. Time for a small snooze then we'll do something fun after."
~GUW~
Dal and I install the smaller toilet seats in a couple of the washrooms. "I hope this works. It's really the last thing we've got. If not, Dean will just have to explain to his future lovers why he's in a diaper."
Dally laughs at me. "He'll change his mind at some point. It won't get to that."
"I know. I'm only joking. My real concern is that soother. You had yours 'till four. It doesn't look like Dean's parting with it any time soon."
"Let's worry about one thing at a time big brother."
I hear my sleepy baby call for me. Yeah, I know he's not technically a baby anymore, but I'm still allowed to call him that, right? I go on up to retrieve him. He's agile enough to make it out of his little bed and down the stairs on his own, but the house is so big, I hate imagining sleepy little Dean frantically searching for me when he wakes up. Instead, I carry a wireless monitor around with me and I've instructed him to call for me. Despite all this potty stuff, he actually is a very good boy and listens well for Cas and I. I know he especially tries to please his papa.
I open the door and he's laying there, hair tousled, cuddled around Tigger and sucking his soother. He looks sleepy green eyes at me. I snatch him up and he cuddles into me like a koala. "Did Dean have a nice snooze?"
He nods into me.
"Good." Dal and I get him set up with his lunch. It's after that we decide to show him what we've done. We spent his naptime reading many stories online and I confirmed what I was already thinking many times over. It seems that some little boys and girls (and as luck would have it my little boy) just need to decide on their own when it's time to use the toilet. We've already overcome a huge hurdle figuring out that he really is never going to use a little plastic potty.
"So half-pint, today Daddy and I put this on the toilet, just special for Dean," Dally says showing him the smaller seat and how it lifts. "That way if Dean wants to try going number two, he won't fall in the toilet."
Dean began that expression in our house. When he began talking more, he told me one day, "number two, Daddy." I'd heard it before, so I knew what he meant, but I couldn't believe it was coming out of him since none of us use that expression, least we didn't before, now we use it all the time. We think it's something he remembers from his old life. That's where I think 'no place' is.
"Do you want to see what it feels like Dean? Daddy won't even take your pants or diaper off."
He looks unsure, but he nods slowly. He's got his brave face on. I've seen him do this lots, when he knows I really want him to do something, but he's scared. The potty thing was different than now. He thought the potty was 'stupid' so of course had no problem telling me just how stupid. But now, he's afraid. Does he think he'll fall in?
"This is where Daddy, Papa, Dally and even Michael come to do number two."
"Michael?"
"Yep. Michael too," I say.
"Dean does it Daddy." He wants to be like Michael.
"Okay. Here we go." I slowly sit him on the smaller seat and let go. He sits there for all of thirty seconds, with his little feet just hanging off the edge and he just can't do it.
"Daddy please get Dean," he screams with his little arms flailing out for me. I scoop him up right away and hug him tight.
"It's okay, Dean Bean. Daddy thanks you for trying. You don't have to use it. It's here when you want to try and Daddy, Uncle Dal and even Papa will help you, okay?"
"Kay."
If it hadn't already been decided, after seeing his scared face, it's decided now: The new plan is to completely ease off. I'd really lucked out with my brother, sisters and cousins. They wanted to be out of diapers. Dean just doesn't. Cas and I might be ready for him to be, but it's not up to us. It's up to Dean. I don't want him upset everyday over this, it's no wonder he's pushing back so hard. I'm letting him know what's available for him and he'll tell me what he needs.
"And you can have diapers as long as you want. 'Till you're forty and Daddy will still change them for you." Now that I'm not obsessed over reaching a goal, I can more rationally see that it won't be the case that Dean will wear diapers forever. He'll reach a point and he'll want to get rid of diapers.
"Thank-you Daddy. That mean you took Dean's 'visement?"
"I did take Dean's advisement. That's very good sweetheart—you're a smart cookie."
He smiles.
"Hey, I've got an idea," Dal says. "Let's go outside with Uncle Dal's guitar and sing some of your favorite Sharon, Lois and Bram songs. How about that?"
That Canadian trio is still one of Dean's favorites. He's a lot more open to admitting that. He dives for Uncle Dal.
It's sunny, so we set up on a patch of grass near one of the giant willow trees on the property, with Pala and Tigger. Dal sturms a chord. "Ready, Dean?"
"Yep." He's standing ready to dance and sing. He's already given me his soother for safe keeping.
"One bottle of pop, two bottle a pop, three bottle a pop, four bottle a pop, five bottle a pop, six bottle of pop, seven bottle…Pop! Sammy!"
"Fish and chips and vinegar, vinegar, vinegar. Fish and chips and vinegar, pepper, pepper, pepper, salt."
"Dean!"
"Don't throw junk in my yard! My yard! My backyard! Don't throw junk in my yard. My yard's all full." He does pretty darn good for his age. It's not all the right words, but it's pretty close.
"Everyone!"
Now we all have to sing our parts simultaneously. Of course Dally and I do well, and Dean is all over the place practically shouting his part, but he's fudging cute, he's dancing his little heart out and is having a great time.