BOB STORY

Pittsburgh, 1960

	I was always one of those kids who cried easily. It was 
a thing that I had little control over. I grew up in a time 
when fathers thought that a boy like me was an 
embarrassment. These events occurred at such a time. It was 
one of those miserable days. I hadn't slept well the night 
before. I had awoken in the early hours feeling cold and 
wet. In the light of dawn I had found something dry to wear 
and taken a towel to sleep on, but the sleep was troubled. 
There were probably many times that day that this cranky 7-
year old found cause for tears and by afternoon my father 
had had enough. As we sat down for lunch, something upset me 
and my dad decided it was a time for correction. Normally, 
the "I'll give you something cry about" mode was selected. 
However, on this day, my father chose a new route. "If you 
act like a baby, that's how we'll treat you."
	I was hauled up the stairs to the room I shared with my 
older brother. I was very frightened...my father had ordered 
my mother to get a diaper and some pins. He said it again, 
"If you act like a baby, then that's how we'll treat you."
	It was summer. I was wearing black, low top Keds, 
jeans, and a red and white striped T-shirt. Dad loosened my 
belt and pulled down my zipper forcefully, as he did when I 
was to receive a spanking. Why he didn't take off my 
sneakers is a mystery because he struggled to pull my jeans 
off over the shoes. This seemed to make him even more angry. 
I continued crying. My underpants were pulled off and I was 
seated on the edge of the bed, wearing only a T-shirt, 
socks, and shoes. I waited, wondering if I would also be 
spanked. I feared this more than anything. My father did not 
have a light hand. It didn't take my mother long to return 
with the diaper. I watched as it was laid on the bed beside 
me and folded. Then, my dad picked me up and sat me on the 
diaper. He pushed my chest back so I laid on it with legs 
still dangling off the edge of the bed. He secured the 
diaper around my waist with 2 large safety pins. I was 
wimpering now. In a strange way, I felt relieved because my 
bare bottom now had some padding in case I was going to be 
spanked. My brother stood behind my mom in the doorway. He 
was giggling. I felt a hot, uncomfortable wave of 
humiliation now as my fear began to subside.
	What happened next should probably not have surprised 
me, but it did. My parents had talked a lot about what would 
happen on our vacation to my grandparents in Missouri. 
Specifically, they had spent a lot of discussion about me, 
my bedwetting, and "we can't let him ruin the folks' 
mattress the way he ruined his." I squealed "no" when a pair 
of plastic pants were produced and pulled over my shoes and 
up to my knees. I have often wondered where they came from. 
Still, I was not a very big child. The pants were probably 
not hard to find. I remember, they were translucent vinyl 
with snaps at the sides. While my body was used to the cloth 
feel of a diaper, this was different... but familiar, 
somehow. Dad stood me on my feet and, not using the snaps, 
pulled them up over the diaper.
	The next installment is very memorable, and bizarre. I 
was ordered to go to the hall mirror and look at myself. I 
was to learn what a big baby looks like, it seems.
	Eyes low, I walked out of my room and past my 
snickering brother. He danced a bit, as I recall, happy that 
someone should receive such a delightful punishment. Little 
boys are strange that way. The full-view mirror of the 
hallway first reflected the black low- top tennis shoes. But 
as my gaze rose, I saw another little boy...not me. It was a 
bit funny, a 7-year old in sneakers and rubber pants. But, 
when my visual study caught the silhouette of the pin 
through the plastic, I had a strange surge of excitement. It 
had occurred to me...THIS IS WHAT I ALWAYS WANTED!. It 
explained so much and even at seven, I knew this. The rest 
of the day was not uneventful. My jeans were restored, over 
my baby clothes. That was how I would spend the day. I 
didn't wet them. I was too afraid. I would behave as my 
father wanted. I would be good, quiet, and obedient. We went 
to a family picnic that evening. I clung to my mother, 
hiding my secret from anyone who did not care to notice.
	My brother did his best to inform the rest of the kids 
that "Bobby is wearing diapers." I finally walked home alone 
and fell asleep on the couch. When I awoke the next morning, 
the diapers were removed and it was over. At least for the 
time being.