Mary and Daphne #177

“I don’t think you appreciate that sometimes the things you say to me are mean.” There, I said it.

“Daffy,” Mary tried to say, but nope, I was having none of it.

“Seriously, Mary. Think about how that makes me feel.” I was not being dramatic, for the record.

“Daphne Ann, all I said was take a bite of your vegetables.” I may have been a smidge dramatic; the teeniest, tiniest amount at most (minus infinity).

“There you go again! We’re on vacation. Give it a rest.” Ooo, Mary’s you-are-this-close-to-taking-a-trip-to-the-restroom-with-me face. Been a while since I got spanked in a public restroom or in public at all, but something about being on the road where no one knows us and there’s a convenient highway getaway to make use of makes Mary very quick to spank no matter where we are or who may overhear.

“Daphne,” she said sorta firmly, like I’d pushed the wrong button or something. Don’t know why because I didn’t push the wrong button. Brats push the wrong button, and I’m not one of those. Really.

But I digress because Mary who loves to continue continued, “The rules still apply on vacation. We go over this every time, and every time ends the exact same way: me running out of patience and you getting seriously spanked on Day 2. Do we really hafta do that again?”

Good thing it was Day Zero. We were on our way to the lake; we stopped for lunch at place that serves, among many other things, green stuff. I’m okay with some green stuff, like a single piece of lettuce on a sandwich or a salad with yummy things in it or raw veggies and dip, but steamed veggies are just … flavorless mush? If you’re lucky, that is; otherwise they’re bitter mush.

“I don’t know,” I told Mary, which was very honest of me. I have moral fiber and rectitude and stuff. “I’ve been very good lately, and I’m not sure yet if I’m gonna be well behaved … It’s not like I plan it out in advance.” Well, not very far in advance. Heehee!

“What does you being good recently have to do with whether you behave this week?”

“I might decide I need a break from being good. It’s a lot of work for me, Mary. I mean, I’m saintly and stuff, but it takes a lot of forbearance. You should hear the things I don’t say! … You’re giving me your not-impressed face.”

“Tell ya what, Daffodil. This time there won’t be a big spanking on Day 2.”

“Aww, how sweet of you!”

“This time if you can’t make good choices, you’ll find out what a diaper punishment is really like.”

Well, color me concerned. And Mary nodding with her smirking you-better-believe-I’m-serious face wasn’t putting me at ease. So … crap.

“If I finish my vegetables, may I eat yours too?”

“You’ll be my baby girl for a whole week.”

“May I order more vegetables?”

“You’ll drink out of a baba.”

“There’s the waitress. I’ll just get her attention.”

“Baby food twice a day, and of course you’re too baby to feed yourself. I’ll get one of those rubber-coated baby spoons so you don’t hurt your toofers!”

“She’s not a very good waitress. How did she not see me?”

“Cuz you’re smol, sweetie. Too smol to ride up front. We’ll put you in the back, buckled in all tight, maybe even find a carseat for you. Maybe a stroller too.”

“Maybe the people at that table aren’t going to finish their vegetables.”

“I’ll have to hold your hand everywhere.”

“I’d like that, actually.” I mean, yes please. Mary’s hands are basically therapeutic for me.

“And diapers diapers diapers. Daytime diapers, nighttime diapers, and your favorite – swim diapers! I’d remind you they don’t hold weewee, but neither do little girls like you … cuz you’re baby.”

“We’re only two hours from home. I think I may have left some vegetables in our fridge. If we turn around now, we could …”

“And no potty except for giving you baths and brushing your teefies.”

“Should’ve packed some vegetables. Did you pack any vegetables?”

“You’ll make the cutest red faces when you fudge your huggies.”

“Mary, I’m begging you, please stop.”

“And we’ll get you changed right on the beach. No one cares if a baby gets their diapers changed in public no matter how messy their bottom is. And we’ll wait a little while to make sure you’re done. Babies don’t mind sitting in poopy diapers, and we wouldn’t wanna hafta wipe your bottom where everyone can see twice in ten minutes.”

“Okay, that’s just gross. Please stop talking.” How am I supposed to finish food when she’s talking about … Blech!

“I’ll rent a crib and playpen from the resort. We’ll set the playpen up outside. If you make stinky pants and I just don’t feel like dealing with you right then, I’ll just put you in the yard. Like a stinky puppy.”

“Nana would be livid to hear you say that.” True story.

“And we’ll give you a bath every night and when we come in from the beach.”

“I was gonna ask for that anyway.” And I wasn’t blushing! The plain, steamed, seasonless vegetables were just, uh, spicy. Really.

“And you’ll be so cute in your water wings and your floatie.”

“Okay, but now seriously, could you please?”

“And I might need some alone time after caring for such a needy baby all day and night, so I might hafta hire a babysitter.”

“… Would … Would we find this babysitter on Fetlife?” Asking because reasons.

“O shoot. I just remembered I didn’t bring any toys with us.”

“We packed a backpack full of toys … O. You didn’t mean that kinda toy.” I’m good at things besides innuendo … Or was that the lack of innuendo? See how she confuses me on purpose? Trickster, that’s what Mary is. I married a coyote, mythologies trickster.

“You wanna stop at a toy store,” Mary sked.

“I thought we were going to one already to get some water toys.” Rafts. Specifically the kind with cup holders cuz we had plans to drink frozen alcohol drinks while floating.

Mary got our waitress’s attention, not that I was irritated about her paying attention to Mary and not to me. Hmmph!

“Are we ready for a check,” I asked Mary. I certainly hoped so and that Mary wasn’t waving her over to do that thing where she embarrasses me in front of people we’ll never seen again. It’s very rude to those people (for real) even if she does keep it PG-13. I did finish my veggies, by the way. They tasted like the ground, except softened.

“We’re ready for our check,” Mary said. “Which way is the restroom? My little girl needs the potty.”

“(Sound of me not making any sounds as my jaw dropped).” They both probably heard the blood rushing through my veins as I blushed all the way to the top of my head.

“It’s … right that way?” That was a fair response from our waitress. She had this look on her face as if what she really wanted to say was ‘your what now needs the where now?’ So … good on her for catching herself.

And Miss Mary Owes-Me-Big-Time just couldn’t let it drop. Nope. “Can you hold it until we pay, or do you need me to come with you right now?”

“ … Muh?”

“You have your pull-up on just in case.”

“ … Suh?”

I think that was very articulate of me considering how little blood was actually getting to my brain. I really hope Mary left her a heccin good tip. And she owed me so big.