But there’s time to muse on that later. I step back tentatively, raising my free hand to show him what I’ve brought into thebathroom with me. “Let’s get you cleaned up now, hmm? I have wipes, and some new shorts, and—”
“A diaper.” His blue gaze locks onto the item in question and he worries his bottom lip with his teeth.
“I know you don’t usually wear them,” I explain carefully, watching his expression for any signs that this is going out of his comfort zone in the wrong way, “and you can safe word if I’m wrong, but with how little you are right now, I think it’s safer to use one just in case.”
His pink cheeks turn a deeper shade of red, and he looks down at himself, grimacing.
“I went potty in my pants,” Benji says, back to sounding extremely little for him. “I didn’t make it in time.”
“What’s your traffic light color?”
His eyes dance between the diaper, his wet shorts, and my face. “Green,” he answers quietly before sighing resignedly. “I’m feelinglittle.”
“You don’t feel this little very often, do you?”
He shakes his head. “No. ’S’weird for me.”
“Does it feel bad?”
“No. Just…different.” His nose scrunches. “I feel…um…” He gives a whole-body wriggle while he seems to struggle to find the word he’s looking for. “Like I can’t hide?”
“Visible?” I offer, and he shakes his head. “Seen?” Another shake. “Exposed? Vulnerable?”
“Yeah, that.” He nods, then looks back down at the floor.
My heart aches for him, and I secretly wonder if this is one of the reasons he leans more towards Middlespace than Littlespace. Not that regressing to Middlespace doesn’t bring its own set of vulnerabilities, mind you.
As I guide him towards one of the change tables, I acknowledge, “It’s scary feeling unprotected and like all your soft spots are on show, huh?”
“Uh-huh,” his gaze is still glued to his feet.
“Well, I hope I can make it less scary. But I’m just going to finish cleaning up around the potty before I get you changed, okay?” Taking a step back, I gesture to the door for the larger stall I’ve just led him into. “You can close this door while you wait for me. I’ll only be a couple of minutes.” I drop my collection of wipes, the diaper, and the spare shorts on top of the change table. “You did a good job starting the clean up, Benji.”
He bites his lip and nods again, but remains uncharacteristically quiet while I retreat to finish the job he started. It doesn’t take me long —there are cleaning supplies under the sinks lining the wall near the door specifically for this kind of situation— and after I’ve thoroughly washed my hands, I tap on the changing room’s stall door to announce my return.
The door is still unlocked, so it swings open at my knock, revealing Benji still standing in the middle of the small, brightly-colored space, his shoulders curled inwards and silent tears slipping down his cheeks.
“Oh, honey.”
He sniffles, but raises his chin to look up at me. “ ‘M sorry.”
“We’ve been through this. You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.”
“Not for peeing,” he clarifies as I turn the lock on the stall door. Scuffing the toe of his sneaker across the tiled floor, he says, “For leaving camp without saying goodbye.”
Oh.
“I’d rather have this conversation with you when you’re out of headspace,” I reply gently, “but you didn’t owe me anything, Benji, so you don’t have to apologize.”
His expression crumples into one of devastated confusion. “B-but…”
“Later, honey,” I promise, reaching for his shoulders and squeezing gently. “We will talk about it later. Because I was sad that you left, and I have missed you.”
Some of his sadness seems to melt away, replaced by a fleeting glimpse of surprise and wonder, before he cautiously asks, “Really?”
“Really,” I smile softly. “But for right now, we need to get you cleaned up and changed. Then if you want to go back to playing—”
“No!” Benji suddenly looksterrified, which makes my stomach clench. His face has gone pale and his hands are trembling. “No. I can’t. They…they allknow. And they won’t wanna be my friends anymore.”
