As the youngest of 6 children my mother was certain I would potty train
early, firstly because by then she was highly experienced, secondly
because she was absolutely fed up with washing nappies and wanted me
dry as soon as possible. By two years old I was dry during the day and
at night by 3 years yet my mother still kept a supply of nappies and
plastic pants in the airing cupboard, I presume from force of habit.
It was July 1968, I was 4 � years old and about to start school in
September. It was a hot day so I had been outside in our garden almost
since breakfast playing with my Tonka truck in my sand pit. It occurred
to me that I needed a wee but I really didn�t want to stop playing to
go inside and use the toilet. I looked around to check I was alone and
pulled down my shorts and underpants to pee against the garden shed as
I had many times before. I was happily peeing as high as I could
against the shed when I felt my underpants and shorts sliding down,
then I realised they weren�t sliding down since I was still holding
them, they were being pulled down.
As the first slap landed on my bottom it still didn�t occur to me that
my mother had hold of my shorts, the first was followed quickly by many
more as my mother scooped me up under her arm and continued to smack my
bottom. By the second strike I was crying and by the fourth howling
madly as my bottom started to catch fire. Only a few moments later my
mother had carried me into the house and dropped me on my bed. I bawled
my heart out because of my sore bottom and the suddenness of the whole
thing.
My mother left me on my bed crying whilst she went to the airing
cupboard and collected a terry nappy, plastic baby pants and pins. For
the next few minutes I laid motionless whilst she lifted my bottom and
pinned the nappy on me and put the plastic pants over my feet before
standing me up. She was continually telling me that if I wanted to
behave like a baby she would treat me just like one. Once the nappy was
secured she stood me up, pulled my plastic pants up and systematically
checked that all the cloth was enclosed before she put me on her hip
and carried me back to the garden, my sandpit and toys. I was still
crying miserably from the pain in my bottom, it didn�t occur to me to
be humiliated by the nappy or the lack of shorts covering it.
I don�t remember any more about the incident. Not even having the nappy
removed. My mother has told me that it was removed at bath time but I
never found the opportunity to ask if it was wet. Undoubtedly this
incident has fashioned what I am today.