Oh no.
You have to pee.
Still dark... it's kind of scary in here, except for the nightlight. Your blanket peels off of you as you struggle away from your bed. Roll, roll... you swing over the side of the mattress, dangle precariously, and THUMP. You land softly, and even that gentle impact makes your gut churn. The clock says... Kim can't read clocks, but the arms didn't move very much. Knees knocking together as close as your diaper will allow, toes turned inwards as you hold it all in as well as you can, you take a deep breath and try to think lucidly.
You're still locked into your rubber pants- for your own safety, of course. Waddling all the way through the hallway and into the bathroom wouldn't be too hard, but there wouldn't be anything you could do when you get there. Just cut through the rubber pants? The hairdressing scissors are all the way up in the medicine cabinet, you'll overexert yourself trying to reach them and pee anyways. Downstairs is the playroom where your safety scissors are, but those barely cut construction paper, much less an entire diaper. The kitchen has knives- no! No, you'll get hurt! That won't work.
The key! Do you know where she leaves the key? Think Kim, think. When you were settling in to bed earlier, you heard her... walking downstairs! That's it, the key to your lock is in the basement! All you have to do is wobble all the way down two flights of stairs, get the basement door open, find the key, hope it's in a place you can reach, wobble back up the stairs, and enjoy a glorious bathroom break. Easy, simple, over in 10 minutes. You can do this.
"Awwwh," you groan as you wonder if you can really do this. The second floor stairs are so steep for a girl as tiny as you, it's near impossible to get down without getting on all fours and crawling down like a diagonal, carpeted ladder. At the very bottom you trip over yourself and tilt over backwards-
POOF! "MMH!" you land on your mercifully still-clean diaper butt, bouncing off of the layers of plush and soft fabric. Gotta be quiet, Kim, don't want to wake Mommy. Moving as quietly as your footie pajamas allow- which isn't much- you jump up and grab the doorknob on the basement door. Success! Now to get down there...
Click. Tugging on the hanging chain, you turn on the lightbulb. It's dusty down here, smells a bit like paint... you're starting to get chilly actually, the vinyl soles on these pajamas don't insulate as well as they look like. Better just find the key and skedaddle. Nothing here but cardboard boxes, plastic tubs of Christmas decorations, a crack in the wall- HUH?
There it is, a crack in the wall. Are basement walls normally covered in red gym pads? You rack your mind to remember your distant adult past and- no, of course not. Between these two gym pads there is a crack and behind that crack is a dim light. Could this be a secret door? Could the key be over there? Only one way to find out!
"Nnf, NNF." You push your hands through the crack... hmm, it's not as tall as you thought. It looks like you'll have to crawl through an oddly kid-sized space to get past. Pushing your face in briefly smothers you as you find yourself surrounded by stiff foam pads. Kick, kick, kick. Squirm, squirm, squirm.
Your hands find freedom! You pull through the tunnel and immediately fall through into a pit of foam blocks. What is this, a gymnastics center? Climbing up the ladder on the side of the pit, you size the place up.
Fluorescent lighting hums overhead, illuminating the padded walls and floor. There are warning signs on the walls showing pinched hands and lightning bolts, looks scary. A conveyor belt speedily rolls along, carrying a line of unadorned robot skeletons about your size. A much larger robot balances on a single gyroscopic wheel, looking like something out of an old cartoon. It's currently ignoring you, but for how long? And where is that key?
Looks like your bathroom break just got way more complicated.