@diapereddaughter: Like you, I had terrible middle-ear infections when I was an infant, a toddler, and a little boy (very narrow Eustachian tubes, tonsil and adenoid infections, the works), and I recall even today how painful they were and how scary the exams and treatments for them could be. The sad irony was that the paregoric the pediatrician prescribed (tincture of opium -- not to be trifled with) gave me terrible nightmares and, after my diapers had been taken away at three-and-a-half, made me wet the bed something awful (even more than usual). Throughout these episodes, and throughout my childhood, I longed for diapers, love, and comfort, but they were always denied me. So I would awaken with a start, fearing I had gone deaf (one of the subjects of my nightmares), and then discover, in helpless terror, that I had wet right through all my layers and had once again soaked the mattress. I received many inescapable punishments for these bedwettings, including beatings, cuffings, and spankings, and they only intensified my fear of ear infections and all that accompanied them.
Total diaper care would have helped immensely. Nothing is quite so reassuring as being cuddled and comforted and cleaned by a loving caretaker who understands, and who doesn't hurt or punish you for wetting or messing your bed or your pants or your diapers. No one should have to suffer the ignominy or the anguish of punishment for uncontrollable nocturnal enuresis (partly iatrogenic in etiology, and quite uncomfortable) on top of the searing pain from an inflamed ear canal.
You were so lucky to be diapered as you were in preschool. In the school I attended from three-and-a-half until eight, there were always boxes of Daytime, Overnight, and Toddler Pampers up on the shelf just above where the full-time students played and were kindly changed in plain view, but in the day program, diapers (even disposables) were strictly forbidden. When I would have an accident, I would be sternly dragged by the arm to the bathroom by an angry female teacher who would put my wet or soiled underpants in a brown paper bag (which I then had to tote around all day like a totem -- apologies to Tom Wolfe), clean me hastily, and then forcibly put me in "fresh" underpants (which my Mom had already left for me at the school -- they were clean, but permanently stained, and I hated them) -- all the while berating me and chastising me and scolding me in the stall, just as my Mom would do to me at home every single day. (Fortunately, the teachers decided not to abuse me physically. Whenever I had an accident at home, my Mom would spank me while I stood naked and shaking at the diaper-pail (by then used exclusively for my soiled underpants), slap my face and call me unspeakable names, and then shove my head into the toilet with the wet or messy underpants, causing me to cry uncontrollably and to convulse with choking tears and horror. At least in that respect, preschool was something of a temporary respite from the worst forms of abuse.) I longed every day for those soft, silky, sweetly-scented Pampers, and for the same loving, total preschool diaper care that some other, lucky ones received, but forever they remained just beyond arm's reach.
It would be so splendid to be an adult-toddler diaper boy and to receive Mommy's total diaper care, never having to worry again about punishment or abuse for wetting or soiling. As a Daddy, I would also be eminently sympathetic to any adult-baby, -toddler, or -little girl who wet or soiled and who needed daytime, nighttime, or even full-time diapering. I hope all those who seek and need total diaper care can experience it, even on an occasional basis.