They take her to the new nursery.

And the maids walked through the halls, Joanne resting her head against the maid carrying her with Herculean strength, the dump in her diaper squishing against her bottom. The infectious aura continued to corrupt the environment as they walked like a red carpet, splashing pastel colors and baby-proofing everything.

Eventually they came across a door - once a regular well-varnish wooden door turned into a pastel yellow and purple with the words "Nursery" written onto it in comic sans - and the free-handed maid opened it, letting Joanne and the other maid in before closing it behind them.

Once this was her room before her father turned it into his new office as soon as she moved out. Now transformed by the reborn Joanne, the room was her's again and is now appropriate for her new supernaturally afflicted lifestyle.

There was a rug of foam, multicolored puzzle pieces with letters and numbers. There were foam baby blocks shaped like cubes and pyramids. There was a rocking chair, wooden train set, a table with arts and crafts items, a cabinet full of costume dresses, chests full of stuffed animals and countless goodies to occupy and educate boys and girls too young to walk.

Where her father's old wooden desk instead stood a table. A padded top and cabinets filled with shakers full of white powder, bottles of oil, boxes of sanitary wipes and folded, unused adult diapers decorated with baby blue and lavender patterns stacked against one another like books on a shelf.