The Day The Sloth Tried Diapers

Milo’s nose twitched at the bright blue box beside the sofa.

It smelled like clean cotton and soft paper. A picture of a smiling baby sat on the front, wearing a diaper with tiny yellow stars. Milo leaned closer, one long arm curled around the sofa cushion.

“Ready,” he whispered.

The living room was warm and quiet. Sunlight made golden squares on the rug. A little clock ticked on the wall, and the curtains puffed gently whenever the fan turned. Milo liked this room. He liked the soft sofa, the round coffee table, and the tall plant that brushed his fur when he passed.

But today, he wanted to feel ready for anything.

He had seen the diaper box near the door earlier, but he had not paid much attention to it. Now it seemed to call to him. The box had a shiny picture, a blue lid, and a row of cheerful stars.

Milo stretched one claw toward it.

The box was just out of reach.

He stretched farther.

His belly slid across the sofa cushion. His back legs stayed tucked behind him. With a slow, soft plop, Milo landed on the rug.

“Oof,” he said.

He sat up and looked at the box. It had not moved.

Milo reached again. His fingers touched the corner. The box made a tiny scraping sound as he pulled it closer.

“Come here, little box.”

The box slid across the rug and bumped his toes. Milo smiled. He felt like an explorer who had found a treasure chest.

He lifted the lid. Inside were neat white diapers, folded like little clouds. Each one had a strip of blue along the middle.

Milo picked one up.

It was soft and crinkly. When he squeezed it, it made a sound like a tiny paper bird.

“Crinkle, crinkle,” he sang.

He turned the diaper around. Then he turned it the other way. The picture on the front showed where the diaper went, but Milo was not quite sure what the picture meant.

He held it against his middle.

It covered his tummy.

Milo nodded. “That looks ready.”

He had one small problem. He did not know how to put it on.

Milo tried the first way that came to him. He wrapped the diaper around his middle and pressed the sticky tabs together.

Rip!

One tab caught his fur.

Milo froze.

“Ouch. Not too bad,” he said, though his eyes grew wide.

He carefully pulled the tab away. A tiny tuft of fur came loose with it. Milo rubbed the spot and gave the diaper a worried look.

“Maybe not that way.”

He tried again, this time holding the diaper farther from his fur. He wrapped it around his middle, pressed one tab, then pressed the other.

The diaper stayed.

Milo sat very still.

It felt snug. It felt warmer than he expected. It made a soft squeeze around his middle.

“Ready,” he said again, but his voice was not as sure.

He lifted one arm.

The diaper stayed.

He lifted the other arm.

The diaper pulled tighter.

Milo lowered both arms. The blue strip pressed into his tummy.

“Maybe I need to stand.”

He placed his palms on the rug and pushed. His body rose slowly, inch by inch. His feet slid forward. His arms shook with effort.

At last, Milo stood.

The diaper made a loud crinkle.

Milo looked toward the door.

He took one step.

The diaper tugged.

He took another step.

The corner of the diaper caught on the leg of the coffee table.

Milo stopped.

“Hello?” he said to the table.

The table did not answer. It only stood there with its smooth wooden legs and a small bowl of buttons on top.

Milo pulled gently.

The diaper stayed caught.

He pulled a little harder.

The table wobbled. The buttons in the bowl clicked together.

Milo quickly sat down. The table settled with a soft tap.

“Sorry,” Milo told it.

He looked at the diaper. One side was still fastened, but the other side had folded under him. The blue strip was crooked. A white flap poked out near his elbow.

Milo tried to smooth it down.

The flap stuck to his arm.

He lifted his arm.

The diaper lifted too.

Milo blinked.

He lowered his arm.

The diaper dropped with it.

“Oh,” he said.

He tried his other arm. The same thing happened. Now both arms had little white flaps stuck to them.

Milo looked like a very slow, very confused bird.

He moved one arm to the left.

Crinkle.

He moved the other arm to the right.

Crinkle-crinkle.

The diaper pulled across his middle and squeezed again.

Milo’s eyes grew round. He wanted to take it off, but the sticky tabs were hidden beneath the folds. He reached down, but his long arm bumped the coffee table.

The table bumped back.

Milo scooted away. His back met the sofa.

The diaper caught on the sofa cushion.

Milo was stuck between the sofa and the table, with his arms held out and the diaper fastened around his middle.

“Stay calm,” he told himself.

He took a slow breath. The room still smelled like clean cotton. The fan still hummed. The sunlight still warmed the rug.

Nothing scary had happened.

Still, Milo did not like being stuck.

“I am calm,” he said.

He tried to turn left. His arm brushed the sofa.

He tried to turn right. His knee bumped the table.

He tried to move forward....