There aren’t any unattended diaper bags that Oliver can grab something from, so she reluctantly goes over to a nearby woman playing with a boy about Oliver’s current age.
“Hello, sweetheart,” the mom coos at Oliver. Oliver smiles weakly. “Did you need something?”
“Change,” Oliver squeaks, unsure of how well a toddler her age can talk. The mom cocks her head curiously, then sees the liquid running down Oliver’s legs.
“Oh! You lost your training pants?” she asks. Oliver nods. “That’s not a problem. Here!” The mom grabs a pair of training pants out of her purse and hands them over to Oliver, who pulls them up. “Let me wipe you down a bit before you go back to your mommy and daddy,” the mom says, now pulling wipes out of her purse. She crouches in front of Oliver and wipes the urine off her legs. “There! All done!”
“Thank you,” Oliver says politely. The mom beams.
“No problem, honey! Have a good day!” she chirps. Oliver walks away from the mom, relieved to have gotten cleaned in addition to protection. The training pants are preferable to a diaper, too, making Oliver feel even better about her situation.
As Oliver walks past the playground, someone a bit bigger than her runs by and taps her on the shoulder.
“Tag, you’re it!” the child shouts, running away from Oliver. Oliver blinks, surprised to have been roped into a game of tag.