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I tenderly rubbed lotion across his balls and dick, which hardened beneath my touch. But Tatum didn't mention it, so neither did I. His body was reacting, but this wasn't a sexual touch unless he wanted it to be. When he gave no signs of wanting more, I folded the front of his diaper and secured the sides.
After I wiggled his pants back up onto his waist, I told him, “I know you're feeling better now, so you may feel differently about using the diaper. It's okay if you want to, and it's okay if you don't.” Some littles liked the warm comfort of using their diapers, while others liked the security and softness of wearing one, or simply their Daddies looking after their basic needs. Whatever Tatum was searching for, was what I wanted for him.
His sweet smile brightened. “You answered my question before I asked.”
I chuckled and tickled his belly until he did the same. “You can always ask me anything; there are no secrets between us, and I never want you to feel embarrassed.”
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome, Taterbug. Hang on just one second.” I threw away the garbage and washed my hands before returning to him. I pulled on my jeans and a t-shirt, receiving a pouty look that made me chuckle. “Come on, let’s get to that surprise.”
I helped him off of the bed and led him into the kitchen, where I retrieved a pot from the cabinet, along with baking soda, cornstarch, and measuring cups. I placed the items on the countertop, and turned to face Tatum when he lightly tapped my arm.
Guilt plagued his face when he said, “I hope I don’t ruin the surprise, but I don’t think I can eat anything else right now. I’m sorry.”
I wasn’t shocked, given his illness, but luckily, that wasn’t what I had in mind. I cupped his cheek and told him, “Thank you for telling me. I wouldn’t want you to get sick again. But we’re not making food.”
“Really? What are we making?”
“You’ll see,” I winked, before using the measuring cup to scoop out some corn starch. “Do you want to do the pouring?”
“Yes, please!”
I handed the cup to my excited boy, who dumped the white powder into the pot. “Good job. Now we need a little of this.” I gathered some baking soda, which I also gave to Tatum to plop into the mixture. “Now just one more thing.” The last item was water, and Tatum was very careful not to spill a drop as he poured it in. “Great! I’ll do this part.” He nodded as I turned on the stove, and he watched intently as I stirred the mix until it bubbled.
The powder soon formed into a blob and I asked, “Do you know what it is yet?”
He squished his lips around as he studied it for a moment before gasping. “It’s PlayDoh!”
“That’s right, baby bear. And I think it’s just about done.” I turned off the burner and grabbed a cutting board. I plopped the white ball onto it and warned him, “It’s still hot, so don’t touch it yet.” He nodded and I grabbed one last thing; a box containing four small bottles of food coloring. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Purple.”
I was glad I chose the purple sippy cup earlier. I squeezed a few drops of blue and red dye onto the dough before testing its temperature with my finger. “Okay, it’s cool enough for you to mix the colors.” It was the best part, and I knew he would love it.
Tatum excitedly reached for the blob before stopping suddenly. He looked up at me and asked, “What’s your favorite color?”
“Purple is very nice, but I think my favorite is orange.”
He pinched off a chunk of the blob and asked, “Can we make some orange too?”
My heart warmed at the sweet request as I dripped red and yellow onto the second ball, and I smiled widely as he mashed each of them until the colors were perfectly blended.
“You did such a nice job,” I praised, and received a gorgeous grin in return. “Let’s take these to the island so you can play.”
I carried the colored dough to the small island, and pulled out Tatum’s barstool. Once he was settled, I sat beside him, wishing I had a bigger kitchen table to share with him. I had lived alone for so long, I never needed one. An idea popped into my head and I asked my boy, “Would you like to help me build a dining table one day soon?”
His green eyes widened with excitement. “Really? I’d love to! I’ve never built anything before!”
“I’ll show you everything,” I promised, and Tatum clapped his hands before turning his attention to the PlayDoh.
I rested my hand on his back and watched adoringly as he squished and squashed the dough into shapes. I’d tell him how pretty each one was, and then he’d smash it to pieces with a laugh before building something else.
Looking at him now, it was impossible to tell that he had been violently ill not long ago, or carelessly tossed away shortly before that. He didn’t appear to have a care in the world. He was blissful and free. That’s all I wanted for Tatum; to enjoy a happy life without limits or judgments.
I wondered how often he’d be in little space; if he preferred a schedule or to go by how he felt. Maybe he wished to be a full-time little. I didn’t want to interrupt the moment with questions; I’d just follow his cues. Because whatever he wanted was fine with me. I just wanted him. I’d spent so long alone, dreaming of the day I’d meet my boy, but having him by my side was better than I ever imagined.
I caressed my hand up and down Tatum’s spine as he made shape after shape. He’d make little animals and march them around the countertop before squishing them back into blobs.
