After a moment of silent consideration, Erika knew what she had to do.
The girl inhaled slowly, taking in a large amount of air that she similarly took her time about exhaling. This
was going to be so, so awkward. . .
"Okay, I can live with that," Erika decided aloud. She reached to pick up the spray off of the floor - the
stupid spray that had resulted in her current predicament - with the idea in mind that it would potentially
help to be able to demonstrate that her strange story was true. "I just have to go down there and. . . God,
it's gonna be so embarrassing telling them that I made poopsies in my diaper. . ."
Wait. Wait.
Erika gave a hard shake of her head, desperate to get those particular thoughts out of it. "The fact that I've
gotta diaper on, that's the important thing. . . Yeah. It doesn't matter if I poo-pooed my diapee, I. . .
SOILED! I [i]soiled[/i] my [i]diaper[/i]! That's it."
Strange thing to exclaim to reassure herself, but it'd have to do for now. Gulping, the little girl now began
to inch her way out of her bedroom - or perhaps more accurately now, nursery. Wow, it was just taking
everything she had not to cry with her mess squashing and slapping against her with every step - how was this
going to feel going down the stairs?
Erika couldn't help but shudder just thinking about it, but she knew what she had to do. After what felt like
ages, and after many tears had been just barely kept from turning into all-out wailing, the little girl
reached the foot of the staircase. She stopped just short of going around the archway into the living room,
but a turn of her head around showed that both of her parents were present - she supposed maybe her dad got
off of work a little early today then. Convenient, in an odd way.
After one last heavy sigh, the smelly eleven-year-old spoke up with, "M-Mom? Dad?"