The term this community has used for years to identify itself and distinguish itself as a label, would no longer be allowed to be used legally outside of identifying Rearz products. They could sue any person or company attempting to use âABDLâ or derivatives to identify itself or products. They would have a huge choke-hold on the market and our community.
Iâm all for free market and competition, especially in our very niche market, but, this would completely stifle the market and tie a single supplier and company to that term and label weâve grown and developed over the years.
They have no right to it.
If there are any lawyer babies out there who can help fight this, this is a worthy cause.
Hey guys. Please take a look at this and spread it like wildfire. Iâm all for competition between brands and such, but TRADEMARKING THE ACRONYM âABDLâ?! Come on, how low can you get.
I enjoy Rearz products, but I am definitely willing to not give them further support if they continue this shifty shit.
For people questioning if this is authentic or not, hereâs the URL for the case:
You can get a hold of Rearz and let them know your opinion of this:
Email: diapers@rearz.ca
Phone: (519) 745-1000
I really hope this is false and they arenât trying to do this.
So from reading in the link. They applied for the trademark in October of last year. I seriously hope they get denied like Taylor Swift did for trying to trade mark a year
So I spoke with a rearz representative. She said that rearz has had a trade mark on the turn abdl shop since last year and are applying for the blanket turn âAbdlâ because many online retailers are blocking the term. They wonât be policing or with holding use of the term. Just so Amazon and eBay canât deny them listings based off of the term being in the description. Apparently they have had over 2600 listings removed do to this.
I donât know how true this is. The lady on the phone sounded like she was reading a script. But who knows. Hope they are being honest.
Sadie:
Santa came!!! And he brought presents! Trucks and rings and hammers and a ball pit! And a new playhouse! And a wagon full of blocks!
A short, (hopefully) sweet Christmas drabble to get me back into the swing of things.
Happy Holidays, everyone!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
âMYâCOFF!â
Mycroft Holmes stifled a sigh; â…Indoor voice, Jawn. Please.â
There was a beat pause before he heard his name again, this time in the form of a stage whisper. âMYâCOFF!!!â
Little smart-arse.
He could hear Gregory giggling at the other end of the counter, and a faint smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. âYes, darling?â
âHeâs eaâding the dough again!â Jawn whinged.
âAt least his voice was back at a normal decibel,â Mycroft thought…for someone who was standing right at his shoulder, in any case. âItâs fine, Jawn,â he said, the smirk on his face growing. âThatâs why he has his own.â
âBuâd heâs eaâding hanâfulls,â Jawn whinged again, and tugged on Mycroftâs sleeve. âIâds noâd good forâim!â
The giggling from Gregoryâs end of the counter was becoming more evident. Ignoring it, Mycroft finally set down his rolling pin and turned to Jawn, giving him his whole attention. âJawn, heâs not–â
âHeâs too liâddol,â Jawn insisted and frowned at Sherlock, who was sitting in his high chair ( an adult-sized booster seat which could be buckled to a regular chair, which made it all the more easy to pull up to the counter so he could be a part of all the fun) and sucking the raw sugar cookie dough from his fingers. There was still a goodly amount of dough on his tray (and his cheeks, and down his bib, and his chin, and his hair), so he couldnât have eaten that much.
Mycroftâs smirk turned into a full smile at the notion that Jawn thought he was anywhere near big enough to call someone else âtoo littleâ. âHeâs fine, Jawn,â Mycroft said again, and reached down to pinch his baby brotherâs cheek, leaving behind a smudge of flour.
Sherlock scrunched his neck and gave Mycroft a beautiful smile that wrinkled the top of his nose adorable.
âHeâs gonna eaâd iâd all…â
âNo, he wo–â Mycroft was cut short as Sherlock, ever insistent on proving him wrong no matter his headspace, pulled an admittedly large piece of dough from the pile on his tray and stuff it in his mouth. â…Hm.â
âSeeeeeeeeeee,â Jawn said smugly, and crossed his arms over his chest as he gloated up at Mycroft.
âHush.â Mycroft gathered the rest of the dough from Sherlockâs tray while he was still occupied with getting it off of his fingers, and put it on the counter-top with the rest of their cookie-making mess. âGregory, be a peach and bring me the bin with all the play-doh in it.â
âYes, dearest,â replied Greg (who was looking quite smart in his gingerbread man pinny), leaving his bowls of red, green, and white frosting that heâd painstakingly mixed behind as he went to go fetch the play-doh bin.
Jawn eyed the crumbled pile of cookie dough on the counter. âWhaâder you gonna do with thaâd?…â
Mycroft dutifully resisted the urge (and it was a strong one, by God) to imply that Sherlockâs spit wasnât the lewdest thing Jawn had ever had in his mouth. âIt will bake out,â he said dryly.
âIâds still gâwoss.â
âThen donât eat them.â Mycroft picked up his rolling pin and quickly flattened the offending dough. âHere, take your cookie cutters and get back to work, or we wonât have cookies enough for Santa.â
Well, that was all the encouragement Jawn needed to hear! He picked up the nearest cookie cutter, a Christmas tree-shaped one, and began punching out tree-shaped blobs of dough.
Sherlock, having scraped every last bit of dough off his fingers while watching Jawn work, looked to his big brother and held his slobber-covered hands up as if waiting for his turn. âHm?â
Mycroft smiled and clucked his tongue at him. âMucky pup…Gregory will be right back with something for you–look, there he is!â
Sherlock craned his neck and, yes indeed! Greg was right behind him with a plastic storage bin full of child-safe clay and the toys to go with it.
He set it on the table and opened it, and began pulling containers out of it. â…This is gonna be a terrible mess,â Greg said as he glanced the leftoverâs bit of chewed-up dough and spit on the babyâs tray.
âThatâs what soap and hot water is for, darling.â
Greg grinned and started to pop lids off of all the small tubs. âI love it when youâre like this,â he said, handing Sherlock the green play-doh.
âLike what?â
âLike the rest of us…in a good mood and not a high-maintenance tit,â Greg said…then squealed loudly and bounced away, rubbing a spot on his bum. âMean!â
Mycroft laid the wooden spoon back on the counter. âLuckily,â he said, raising an eyebrow at Greg, âIâm in a good mood.â There was a mischievous little gleam in his eye.
âCheeky.â Greg kept his backside pointed away from his lover and gave Sherlock the red dough next, then a small plastic rolling pin, and a couple of plastic cookie cutters. âHave at it, munchkin,â he said, giving the baby a kiss on one of the only clean spots on his forehead.
âCan you say âthank you, Gregoryâ?â Mycroft prompted. He doubted that Sherlock would, being in his Tiny headspace and all, but it was cute to hear him try.Â
âGâeck!!â Sherlock waved the rolling pin, and Greg laughed. âClose enough!â
Mycroft looked over Jawnâs work; âPerfect,â he said, and went to lick the powdered sugar from his sleeve where tiny fingers had been. âFourteen cookies out of one batch; magnificent job, pet,â he added, and watched Jawnâs chest puff up with pride. âLetâs get those on the tray.â
âAnâ then deâgoratâde?!?!?!â
âWe bake them first–â
âAnâ then deâgoraâde??!!!â
â–And then we let them cool…â
âAwww.â
â…And then we decorate them.â
âYâah!â Jawn whooped, and jumped down off his stool. âI wanâ deâgoraâde allâa mines!â
âThereâs enough cookies for everyone to decorate.â
âBuâd Sherâyockâs…!â
âSherlockâs very excited to decorate, too.â Mycroft interrupted. âWhere did we put all the candies, darling?â
âTopâo the pantry, love.â
âYouâre a peach, dear.â
âI know, sweetcheeks.â
Mycroft ignored the sounds of Jawn gagging and started to walk to the pantry, passing by the baby and his own little mini-bakery set up on his tray, when Sherlock stopped him:
âBâAH!â
âYes, what is it, âMycoft cooed down at him. âAre you a busy little baker-bee, hm?â
Sherlock proudly held up a cragged, lumpy piece of red play-doh in the shape of a star. âGâAH!â
Mycroft pressed his hands to his cheeks in over-the-top amazement. âBeautiful! The most wonderful star Iâve ever seen!â
âYâAH!â Sherlock leaned forward in his seat, offering Mycroft his star.
âPerfect.â Mycroft gingerly took it into his hands. âHere, Gregory…take this and put it on the âtrayâ with the rest.â
âOh, yeah. On the tray, âwink-winkâ.â
Mycroft chuckled and, after passing off Sherlockâs âcookieâ, wiped his hands on his pinny and went into the pantry.
As he stood on his toes and reached for the bag of brightly-coloured chocolate candies that theyâd bought (and hidden) for tonight, Mycroft found himself humming…humming âJingle Bell Rockâ, of all things.
He would have started smiling, if he hadnât been already.
Yes, he supposed he was in a good mood tonight. Hard not to be, with everyone–
Shouting came from the kitchen. âMYâCOFF!!!â
âIndoor voice.â
âHEâS HIâDDING ME WITH THAâD ROâYYING PIN!!!â
Mycroft bit his lip to stifle a laugh, even as he heard his little brother cackling.
squeakpigsrevenge: They just put it on him, hence the blinking Trying to decide how soon to take it off
sadieandmo: “You can’t play in the snow if you don’t have your hat, muffin.”
squeakpigsrevenge: âBuâd I cân. I pâwomise.â
sadieandmo: “No.” “Bu’d I c’n! Wa’ss me!” “Uncle Greg said no.”
squeakpigsrevenge: âIâm bâery gooâ aâd pâyaying.â âBut not very good at listening.â
sadieandmo: “Ye’th I am.” “No you aren’t.” “Uh’huh.” “You’re not using your listening ears right now, little boy.” “You no’d, ei’ver.” “…‘Scuse you?” “G’eg no’d y’isten’a me.”
squeakpigsrevenge: âGentlemen!â Mycroft interrupts, âSherlock. You are not Allowed to play in snow without a hat on.â âBuuuuâd I haaaaaâd haâds!â
sadieandmo: “I’m sorry, but that’s the rule.” “Nooooooo, p’ease!” “Sherlock–” “Off, I wan’d i’d off!” “Sherlock, if you take one more step outside without your hat on you’re coming right back in for a spanking and a nap.” “My’cooooff, nooooo!”
squeakpigsrevenge: Greg stepped in and pulled the hat onto the babyâs head for a second time. âIf we see you take it off, itâs spanking then a nap. Understood.â âI unâersâand an I haaaaaaaâde i’d.â
sadieandmo: Sherlock doesn’t last a full two minutes before Mycroft is plucking his hat out of the snow and dragging him back into the house. “A spanking and a nap. Not the wisest of choices, but it was yours to make.” Sherlock’s already tearing up as he stumbles along in his snow boots after his brother. “Tha’ds no’d fair!” he grizzles. “You knew what would happen if–” “Bu’d, bu’d you an’, an’ G’eg don’d wear ha’ds!”
squeakpigsrevenge: âThis isnât about Gregory and I. This is about you.â It takes forever to get his snowsuit off cause heâs winding himself into a strop about being in the house.
sadieandmo: Sherlock’s just standing there, covering his eyes and howling while Mycroft tugs him every which way to get his suit off. “I haaaaaaa’de i’d!” he cries over and over. “Iiiiiii haaaaaaaaa’de iiiiiiii’d!” “And I hate doing this,” Mycroft grunts over a stubborn zipper. “I’d much rather let you play outside.” “I’ll y’eave i’d on, I’ll y’eave it on, p’eeeeeease!’
squeakpigsrevenge: âIf youâve learned you lesson, we can try again after nap.â âNooooo, Myâg. Pâeeeeeaaase. No naâb.â Mycroft finally gets the zipper down and the whole puff of scruffy fabric pools at the babyâs feet.
sadieandmo: Sherlock wails the most heartbroken wail ever wailed as Mycroft drapes him over one knee and pushes down the seat of his Peppa Pig thermals. Greg’s been watching the whole scene from the doorway, hand over his mouth to keep from grinning because while they had the most dramatic toddler on the planet in their hands, it was still fucking adorable. Mycroft rolls his eyes at him and starts to ruck Sherlock’s nappy down in the back…but second thoughts gave him pause. ..Plus, he just didn’t have to energy to remove one more inconvenient layer after wrestling a whole snowsuit off of a giant child.
squeakpigsrevenge: The first whap against his nappy startled him quiet. But by five he was bawling like heâd been skinned alive. âIf you canât listen then there will be consequences.â Greg was making faces at Mycroft for going soft.
sadieandmo: "I y’iten, I y’isten,” Sherlock blubbered over and over in between sobs that would have made one think he’d been getting paddle on the bare, rather than a few half-hearted swats over his nappy. Mycroft made it an even 10 before he sat Sherlock back up on his knee. “Now, you’re going to go take a nap before we try going outside again, and I don’t want to hear any fuss about it,” Mycroft said, wagging his finger in his baby brother’s face. Sherlock watched him balefully, with big, fat tears still rolling down his cheeks as he snuffled and hiccuped and hitched. “P’p’p’omi’the,” he snuffled. “Y’y’i’then.” “We’ll see.” Mycroft stood him up; “Go see Uncle Gregory and ask him nicely if he’ll make you a bottle,” he added, and sent Sherlock off with one last swat to his still exposed nappy. Sherlock toddled over to Greg, arms outstretched, still grizzling. “B’ba’ba, G’eg, ba’ba!”
squeakpigsrevenge: Awwwwww sadieandmo: lol, We’ll have to share this This is too fucking cute squeakpigsrevenge: Your bits! sadieandmo: Yours too! squeakpigsrevenge: Your butt! sadieandmo: Your face!
squeakpigsrevenge: Greg wrapped Sherlock in a hug, âDid mean ol’e Myc spank your bum?â Greg cooed, fighting back a laugh and the glower he got from âMycâ. âYeeeeaaaa. My buuuuuum.â âPoor thing, Poor thing. Greg will make you a bottle and weâll have a rest.â âI jusâ wanâ ouâside.â Mycroft had come up behind the baby and pulled his thermals back over his nappy, âAfter nap.â
sadieandmo: Sherlock’s face scrunched as Greg lifted him up onto his hip. “I ha’de i’d,” he cried as he laid his head on Greg’s shoulder and scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “I ha’de i’d.” “I know, muffin, and I’m sorry,” Greg patted his back while he carried him into the kitchen.“We just want you to stay warm while you’re out in the snow, so you don’t become a little baby’cicle.”
squeakpigsrevenge: âI dunâ wanâ be bayâbeeâsciâgle.â âThatâs why you need to wear your hat,â Greg kissed his cheek. âI haâde haaaaaâds.â âCan you sit here while I make your bottle?â âNoooooooo, my buuuuum huuuuurâds.â
sadieandmo: “What about your feet; do your feet hurt?” “Nuuuu.” “Okay, then let’s do this–” Greg said as he set Sherlock on his feet, “–just until we get your bottle warm. Can you bring me the milk?” Sherlock wrapped himself around Greg’s waist and hid his face, then shook his head ‘no’. “Aw, no?” Greg pet the baby’s hair. “No, you don’t want to be a helper this time?” Sherlock shook his head again. “That’s a shame, you’re always such a good helper. Can you tell me which bottle you want, then?”
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