One Step Back



        Brandon was a typical five-year-old.  Toy cars and trucks, Nija Turtles
 and Space Rangers, baseball and riding his bike were his passions.  In the
 morning, his life revolved around kindergarten.  In the afternoon, it
 revolved around cartoons.
        Brandon was busy playing with a toy garage and a colorful assortment
 of toy cars and trucks in front of the television set when Cheryl stepped
 back into the livingroom.  His attention was focused on running the trucks
 and cars into and out of the gas station and around the floor.  He wasn't
 even paying attention to the television, which was set to Sesame Street
 just for him.  Brandon didn't pay any attention to Cheryl at all as she
 walked over and sat down on the livingroom davenport.
        "Come here, little guy."
        "What?" Brandon asked.  He didn't even bother to look away from his
 toys.  Pretending to fill up the tank on a toy car seemed much more
 important at the moment.
        "It's time to get ready for lunch.  You're hungry aren't ya?"
        Brandon nodded.  He pulled his knees up under himself and got to his
 feet.  He started for the dinner table.
        "Wait a minute, little guy.  We've gotta get you undressed first."
        Brandon stopped and turned around.  "How come?" he asked.
        "'Cause you're gonna take a nap after lunch."
        "I don't wanna," Brandon objected.  "I wanna play with them some
 more."  He pointed to the toys in front of the television.
        "You can play with them later.  After you wake up from your nap.
 It'll probably be time for cartoons then, too."
        Brandon's eyes brightened.  "Ninja Turtles?" he asked.
        "Um hmm."
        "And Space Rangers?"
        "Um hmm.  If you want.  But you have to take a nap first.  Okay?"
        "Okay."  Brandon approached his foster mother from the far side of
 the coffee table.
        Cheryl loosened the velcro straps on Brandon's running shoes.  "Do
 you like macaroni and cheese?" she asked
        "Yeah.  My mommy makes it with tuna fish in it sometimes."
        "Well.  We're gonna have macaroni and cheese, apple sauce, cookies,
 and apple juice."
        Brandon leaned back against the davenport as Cheryl pulled his shoes
 off and then his socks.  He looked down and watched, but he didn't make any
 effort to help her.  "What's that stuff for?" he asked, pointing to the
 coffee table.
        "What? The baby stuff?"
        Brandon nodded without saying anything.  His eyes remained fixed on
 the big, round, yellow container of baby wipes and the container of baby
 powder next to it.
        "Aunt Cheryl's gonna put some baby powder on ya."
        "Why?" Brandon asked.
        "Because you still wet the bed."
        "Not all the time," Brandon replied.
        "No.  But just about all the time."  Cheryl pulled Brandon's shirt
 off.  It came off inside out.  She reversed it, and sat it on the coffee
 table next to his shoes and his socks.
        Brandon's head dropped as his jeans were lowered down around his
 ankles.  He didn't make any effort to pull his feet free.  He just stood
 there in his Space Rangers underpants, scowling.  He almost tripped when
 his foster mother pulled his left foot free of his jeans.  He looked over
 at the baby wipes and the baby powder again as his underpants slipped down
 his legs.
        "Do you have to go potty?" Cheryl asked.
        Brandon's lower lip sucked in.  "Uh uh," he muttered, shaking his
 head.
        "You sure?  You've haven't gone potty yet.  It's been a couple of
 hours since Mrs. Davis dropped you off.  You don't wanna go in your pants."
        "I don't gotta go potty."
        "Okay."  Cheryl reached under Brandon's arms and lifted him up,
 grunting a little under her breath because of his weight.  She layed
 Brandon on the davenport.  An old blue and white sleeping bag with a
 floral design served as a cover for the davenport.
        Cheryl gave Brandon a reassuring smile as she pulled two wipes from
 the container.  Brandon turned his head towards the television.  His cheeks
 blushed as his foster mother pulled his legs back and began to wash his
 bottom.  He didn't turn away from the television until she lowered his legs
 and started to wash his slender penis.  He couldn't keep from giggling when
 she pulled his foreskin back and ran the baby wipe over the tip of his
 penis.  His little penis stiffened as the baby wipe moved up and down the
 length of his penis.  Cheryl could feel his hips throb up and down slightly
 in rhythm with the baby wipe.  "You like this, don't ya?"
        Brandon nodded.  "Uh huh."  He pointed over to the coffee table.  "I
 like baby powders, too."
        "That's good.  'Cause I'm gonna put some baby powder on ya in a
 minute.  I gotta go get somethin' first, though."
        "What?" Brandon asked.
        "You'll see in a minute.  I'll be right back."
        Cheryl stood up and walked out of the livingroom.  She walked down
 the hallway to Brandon's new bedroom.  She was gone just a few seconds.
        Brandon's eyes widened when she returned.  His cheeks blushed again.
  He knew exactly what his foster mother had in mind when he saw what she
 had in her hand.
        "I think you better wear a Pamper," Cheryl told him.  Her voice was
 calm, matter-of-fact.
        Brandon shook his head adamantly from side to side.  "I don't
 wanna," he declared.
        Cheryl sat back down.  "I think you better.  Just until you wake up
 from your nap."
        Brandon shook his head.  "I don't wear dem no more."
        "You don't?"  Cheryl pretended to be surprised.  "How come?"
        "'Cause I'm big."
        "But you still wet the bed."
        "So?" Brandon replied.
        "And sometimes you even go potty in your pants."
        "How'd you know?"
        "Your mommy told Mrs. Davis.  And Mrs. Davis told me.  Mommy said
 it was okay, if you wear Pampers here."
        Brandon shook his head.  "No, she didn't!  She runned outta diapers
 when I was four.  Mommy don't want me to wear them no more."
        "Mommy said it's okay if you wear 'em all the time here.  We're not
 gonna do that right now. Not unless we have to.  You're just gonna wear this while
 you take your nap.  Then we'll put your Underoos back on.  It'll be okay.  You'll see.
 You're gonna like wearin' these when you sleep."
        Tears welled up in Brandon's eyes as his foster mother opened the
 diaper.  "No," he moaned as his foster mother pulled his legs back by the
 ankles.  "I don't need to wear Pampers."  He started to bawl.
        "Ssh!"  Cheryl tried to quiet him.  "Ssh!"  Cheryl ran her fingers
 over Brandon's baby fine, brown hair.  "It'll be okay.  You'll see.  You're gonna like
 wearin' Pampers when you sleep."
        "No," Brandon moaned.
        Diane waited until he calmed down a bit before she slipped the diaper
underneath his bottom.  Brandon whined and whimpered as his
 foster mother powdered him.  He started to hiccup.  He started to bawl
 again when she pulled the diaper up between his legs.  Cheryl ignored him and
 adjusted the diaper for a comfortable, yet snug fit.  She taped the diaper
 in place.
        "There!" she said, sitting him up.  "All done!"  She gave Brandon a
 big smile.
        Brandon's face twisted into a pout as he looked down at his diaper.
 "What if I gotta go potty?"
        "You can come ask Aunt Cheryl.  I'll take ya to the bathroom, take the
 diaper off, put ya on the potty, and then I'll put the diaper back on ya."
        "What if I go potty in it?"
        "That's okay, too.  That's what the diaper's for.  In case you have
 an accident."
        Cheryl fed Brandon lunch.  Brandon sat in a booster chair.  He
 managed to get most of his lunch from the plate either to his mouth or
 around his mouth.  A few dribbles slipped down his bare chest.  Cheryl
 cleaned him up with a washcloth and escorted him by the hand to his new
 bedroom.
        Brandon's bedroom was as much a nursery as a bedroom for a
 kindergartner.  It was equipped with a crib and a youth bed.  The dresser
 had a changing table built on top.  A curtained window was centered over
 the dresser, giving the room plenty of light.
        "Do you have to go potty?" Cheryl asked him again.
        Brandon shook his head.
        "Are you sure?"
        Brandon nodded.
        "Okay.  It's a good thing you're wearin' a diaper then huh?"
        Brandon nodded again.
        Cheryl put Brandon down for his nap in the youth bed.  She
 hugged him and kissed him.  Brandon hugged onto a pound puppy.
        When Brandon woke up from his nap, he had a familiar warm
 feeling in the area of his diaper.  He was wet.  Not much of a surprise.  He
 was wet almost everynight.  He still wet when he napped as often as not.
 His mother kept him in diapers at night until just after he turned four.  The
 aides at daycare used them at naptime a few months longer.  They stopped
 when his mother threatened to pull him out and enroll him somewhere else.
 It had been almost a year since his mother last put a diaper on him.  She
 threatened him with diapers often enough still.  Especially if he had a
 toilet accident.
         Wet pants were becoming less frequent since he started
 kindergarten, although they still happened.  They even happened at
 kindergarten on three different occasions.  The other children teased him,
 calling him pee baby and chanting, "Brandon needs a diaper!"
        Brandon climbed out of bed and slowly made his way down the
 hallway that led from his bedroom to the livingroom.  Cheryl was dozing on
 the davenport.  CNN was playing on the television set.  Brandon watched
 her for a moment from the end of the hallway.  The soft padded feeling
 between his legs was gone.  Instead, the diaper felt stiff and heavy.  The
 lingering warmth was pleasant.  And the diaper's perfumed fragrence wafted
 through the air.  The disposible diaper rustled as he stepped into the livingroom,
 waking Cheryl.
        Cheryl yawned as she said, "Hi there, little guy."  She sat up and
 patted the davenport with her right hand.  "Come on over here."
        Brandon slowly crossed over to the davenport.  He stepped past
 Cheryl, bent his shoulder, and rolled over onto the sofa.
        Cheryl looked him over.  The diaper's white color was now a
 yellow-grey.  "Good thing Aunt Cheryl put a diaper on you.  Huh?"
        "Yeah," Brandon answered her.  He looked over at the coffee table,
 just two feet away.  The baby wipes and the baby powder were still there.
 There was a pink bottle of baby lotion with them this time.  Brandon's
 socks were stuffed inside his shoes.  His jeans and shirt were neatly
 folded.  The shirt laying on top of his jeans.  A fresh Pamper was laying
 on top of his shirt.  His underpants were gone.
        "We have to go to the store," Cheryl explained.  "We gotta get some
 things."
        "What?"
        "Some cereal.  Some paper towels.  Some other things."
        "Some diapers?" Brandon asked.
        "Ya.  We gotta get you some more Pampers, too.  I'm almost out.  I
only had a couple.  We don't wanna run out.  Do we?"
        Brandon grinned and shook his head.  He pointed to the diaper on the
coffee table.  "Whose are dem?" he asked.
        "Those were for when I babysit."
        Cheryl loosened the tapes that held Brandon's diaper in place.  "Did
 you poop?"
        Brandon shrugged.  "I don't know."
        Cheryl pulled the diaper back and lifted Brandon's legs.  "Nope,"
 she said with a smile.  "Just a wet one."  Brandon grinned.
        Cheryl changed Brandon into a fresh Pamper. She used baby lotion
 this time instead of baby powder.  Then she dressed him.
        The visit to the grocery store was brief.  Cheryl picked up the few
 things she needed first.  Then she pushed the cart to the aisle with baby
 needs.  She put two packages of Pampers in the cart.
        Cheryl removed Brandon's diaper after they returned home and 
everything was put away.  The diaper was still dry.  She left the diaper on the
coffee table and pulled on Brandon's Space Rangers underpants.
        Brandon spent the rest of the afternoon playing with the cars and
 trucks and watching cartoons.  Cheryl let him wear his underpants until it
 was time for supper.  Then she swapped the Space Rangers Underoos for the
 Pamper he wore earlier in the afternoon.  Brandon didn't protest at all.
        Cheryl put Brandon on the changing table for the first time in the
 morning.  His diaper was wringing wet.  After Cheryl removed the diaper,
 she guided him to the bathroom, waited while he tinkled a few drops into
 the toilet, and then guided him back to the bedroom.  Brandon expected to
 wear underpants.  As he lay on top of the dresser, Cheryl got out his
 school clothes, including his favorite pair of underpants -- his Ninja
 Turtles underpants.  She sat the clothes aside and put a dry diaper on him
 instead.  "We'll put your underpants on after breakfast.  When you get
 dressed."
        Cheryl kept her word.  A half hour or so after breakfast, she went
 to his bedroom and got his clothes.  She changed Brandon in the livingroom
 while he watched morning cartoons.  As she loosened the tape's to Brandon's
 diaper, she told him, "When you get back from kindergarten, you're gonna
 wear this."  Brandon nodded.   When he got back from kindergarten, the baby
 wipes, the baby lotion, and the morning Pamper were waiting for him.
 Cheryl guided him straight to the davenport.  Brandon wore the diaper until
 he woke up from his nap.
        Brandon's placement with Cheryl was almost five months.  Cheryl
 continued to use the diaper.   Brandon wore Pampers from evening until
 morning, and he wore them from lunch until after his nap.  He continued to
 have sporadic toilet accidents.  When he did, Cheryl cleaned him up and put
 a nice, soft Pamper on him.
        Cheryl never informed her social worker about diapering Brandon.
 As she put his clothes in the suitcase, she packed a small handful of Pampers.
 She figured the next set of foster parents would take the hint and use them
 at night.