Common Causes

 

 

I walked home, disappointed and annoyed. I was supposed to have gone on an all-day outing with my two best friends (who happened to be twins), Jake and Jon Martin. Instead, they had done something to get themselves grounded. Their mom had met me at the door and curtly announced that our trip was off and that I was not to come around to visit for at least three days. This wasn’t the first time that they had been grounded. In fact, this made at least four or five times this year. Still, I was angry that they had messed up my day. I kicked the dust as I walked back to my house.

I unlocked the back door and made my way through the laundry room and into the kitchen. Since my brother was spending the day with his friend Anthony, and I was supposed to be with the Martins until late tonight, my parents had decided to visit my mom’s parents. I made myself a sandwich and headed to my room. My mood lightened as I realized that I was alone and could more or less do whatever I wanted. This was a rare opportunity that I intended to take full advantage of.

I was walking past my brother’s room when I got an unbelievable shock. Brendan was asleep on his bed dressed in nothing but a thick diaper and plastic pants. You might think that this wasn’t particularly odd, except that he is almost eleven, a year and two months younger than me. My next reaction was fear. Yes, fear. You see, I had been secretly wearing diapers and plastic pants for a little over a year. My brother must have found out my secret! I was in a panic. What if he told mom and dad about what I had been doing? It would be totally humiliating! Then, it struck me that he was the one in trouble. If he told, he’d have to explain why he had been spying on me. (My diapers and other secret stuff were hidden in a closed box at the back of my closet.) Anger came next. How dare he do this to me! I would teach him a lesson! I put my sandwich down and shook him awake. He was momentarily confused.

“Noah?” he asked groggily, before remembering he was in a diaper… my diaper! “Just what the hell are you doing?” I bellowed.

I grabbed his arm before he could get away.

“You’re hurting me!” he complained.

“Do you want me to tell mom and dad about this?” I continued.

“I’m not doing anything wrong!” he answered defiantly.

“What about sneaking around my room and using my stuff without asking?”

“What stuff?”

I already knew that he had taken my iPod more than once but that was nothing compared to this.

“This stuff!” I said pointing.

He looked confused for a moment and then his face expressed shock.

“Diapers and baby pants! You have diapers and baby pants, too?”

His answer was so unexpected that I almost denied it. But, the truth hit me like a Mack truck. If he had found my diapers and was planning on blackmailing me, he wouldn’t have worn them to take a nap. Boy was I stupid!

“Oh crap!” I exclaimed, collapsing onto his bed.

He was overjoyed.

“You like wearing diapers, too! Show me! Show me!”

I was dumbfounded. He pulled me into my room. I mechanically removed the box from the closet and he dove into it.

 “You’ve got great stuff! Can I use one of your pacifiers?” he begged. “And a baby bottle?”

“Yeah, sure,” I answered halfheartedly.

I was worried about mom and dad finding out.

“Why are you so down?” he asked.

“What if mom and dad find out?”

“Are you going to tell them?” And, before I could answer, he added, “I won’t, that’s for sure! Don’t you see how great this is? We can do stuff together now. Don’t you want to?”

I did… very much. I smiled broadly.

“Well, “ he persisted, “let’s not waste time. Don’t you want to get into a diaper?”

 “Sure,” I giggled.

“Can I help?”

“OK,” I giggled again.

_____

Between us, we came up with nine diapers, five plastic pants, three pacifiers (all of them mine), two baby bottles (also mine), one large container of medicated baby powder (his), and one small container of regular baby powder (mine).

“This is so cool!” my brother exclaimed for about the tenth time.

We were amazed by how similar our stories were. Our interests in diapers had started at about the same time. After investigating the Internet, we had picked the same company to buy our diapers from. We even had gone to the same store to buy the money orders we needed.

“I was really scared that someone would get to the mail and discover the package before I could get to it,” my brother said.

“Me too!” I admitted.

We spent the afternoon enjoying the freedom of going freely around the house in our diapers and plastic pants. We got out some old toys and games and played for several hours. We made ourselves snacks, drank out of the baby bottles, and sucked on pacifiers at will. At mid-afternoon we changed each other’s diapers.

“Hey! I just thought of something,” I said as I pinned my brother’s diaper. “Weren’t you supposed to spend the day with Anthony?”

“Yeah,” he answered with a smile. “But, when he called last night he told me that his dad got mad at him for not mowing the lawn yesterday and that he was being punished and couldn’t have visitors.”

“And you didn’t tell mom and dad so you could stay home and wear diapers…” I said.

“Exactly!” he said gleefully. “And that’s how you caught me… and I’m glad you did!”

“Me, too!” I agreed.

We microwaved pizzas for dinner and then ended our fun day. We sadly gathered our diapers and plastic pants for laundering. (I showed him how to roll the plastic pants into a bath towel to squeeze the water out of the waist and leg bands.) While the diapers were drying, we sat at the computer and visited diaper and teen baby sites. We shared our desires to buy onesies, shortalls, patterned baby pants, and other toddler clothes. Mom and dad arrived about an hour later, none the wiser.

_____

My brother and I snuck in as much diaper time together as we could, but it wasn’t much. Not only weren’t we left alone very often, there was also the problem of laundering the dirty diapers. We discussed buying disposables but decided against it. It would take up too much of the money we were saving up for toddler clothes. It was in this atmosphere that I made a daring suggestion.

“I think it would be fun to sleep in diapers.”

The suggestion intrigued him but he remained hesitant.

“With mom and dad in the house?”

“Sure,” I answered calmly.

He giggled.

“Really? For the whole night? And wet them, too?”

“Of course,” I giggled back. “It’ll be really cool!”

And it was. We could hardly wait to go to bed on those nights (about two per week). We would start yawning around nine o’clock and by nine thirty mom or dad would suggest that we call it a night. I think that they were surprised when we agreed. Anyway, we’d go up to my room to diaper each other before he snuck into his room. The first time I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep. Around two o’clock in the morning, I heard someone opening my door. I pretended to be asleep, even though I was a little scared.

“Noah?” my brother whispered. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” I answered.

He quietly closed the door and got into bed with me.

“This was a great idea!” he said. “Are you wet?”

“Yeah,” I giggled. “Are you? Is that why you came here? For me to change you?”

“No! I couldn’t sleep. Can I stay here for a while?”

Being together had a calming effect and we soon nodded off.

_____

For the next three months, we saved our money like a couple of misers. We drank water with our school lunches instead of buying something in the cafeteria; we asked for money to see movies at the mall, but instead roamed around until it was time for us to get picked up; and, we walked to places that we normally went to by bus. It all paid off. Each of us was able to buy six really thick nighttime diapers with sturdy plastic pants, a dozen daytime diapers with really quiet plastic pants that we daringly wore around our friends and parents, and — finally! — we each got two baby-print onesies .

Hiding that much stuff could have been a big problem, except that mom had put us in charge of cleaning our own rooms, which, if we kept halfway organized, she never came into. This meant that we could safely hide stuff under our beds, in the back of dresser drawers, and in the closets. Naturally, it was important to keep our wet diapers in tightly sealed bags until we could launder them. This became much easier when mom suddenly got a lot busier at work. At first, she wanted us to go over to our grandparents’ house after school but we convinced her that we could be trusted to go straight home and not get into trouble. This gave us plenty of time to wash and dry our diapers and plastic pants several times a week—not to mention extra time playing in diapers and onesies.

_____

Brendan’s birthday falls in mid-September and mine in late October. Normally, we are allowed to keep half of our birthday checks to use for whatever we want. This year, for the first time, our grandmother (the one who lived far away) sent us cash as well as gifts with our birthday cards. Since mom and dad weren’t home when we opened the cards, we decided to take a chance and kept almost all of the money.

“How much do you have now?” Brendan asked a few days after my birthday.

“Seventy-two dollars, including grandma’s money,” I answered.

“I have eighty-one,” he answered. “Do you want to get more stuff?”

“More stuff?” I responded. “Like what?”

“Like this,” he said, passing me a printout.

It showed a toddler boy wearing a footed sleeper. I giggled, but pointed out that we were too big to fit into those.

“No, we’re not. Let me show you,” he said.

He navigated his way to a site that sold footed sleepers for the whole family.

“See!” he said triumphantly. “You can get these in any size, color or pattern you want.”

This was too good to pass up. We could each afford two! We skipped the solid colors and spent a lot of time examining the various prints. We both liked the same baby sheep and crescent moon pattern and agreed that it would be OK if we each got one. My second sleeper featured pull-toys and balloons; his, baby blocks and trains. They arrived in just under three weeks. Everything was perfect: they fit just like we wanted, with room to grow. We could hardly wait for bedtime.

“I’ve got a great idea,” he said dumping his stuff on my bed. “I’m gonna wear a daytime diaper and a nighttime diaper.”

I caught his drift immediately and giggled.

“You’re really gonna look like a baby with all that diaper material!”

He giggled back and I started diapering him. The bulge was huge! There was so much material between his legs that he could hardly walk. His sleeper bulged out just like a toddler’s! I asked him to do the same for me. I got into bed and happily enjoyed the feeling of the super-big diaper and my sleeper. I drifted off to sleep placidly sucking my pacifier. If I only had my teddy bear, Dexter…

______

Our secret only lasted until the next Friday night when Brendan gave it away. But I don’t blame him. I woke up to the sounds of someone throwing up in the bathroom. I cracked my door open and saw that the hallway and the bathroom lights were on. Mom was saying soothing words to whoever it was. After a few seconds I heard Brendan answer. Dad came out to investigate and stopped short at the bathroom door.

“What the hell is he wearing?” he asked.

“Not now,” my mother answered. “He’s a very sick boy.”

Her statement was punctuated with another spate of vomiting.

“Stay with him,” my mother said after the vomiting stopped. “I’m going to call the HMO’s 24-Hour Healthline.”

I was getting more and more nervous. Brendan was definitely busted. We had talked about how we might tell mom and dad about our diapers, but neither of us thought that we actually would. I gathered my courage and went into the hallway: I didn’t want Brendan to get the blame alone. (I also figured that I’d get caught sooner or later, anyway.) I walked up to the bathroom door.

“Is Brendan going to be OK?”

Dad looked over and his jaw dropped. He looked back and forth from Brendan to me. We were wearing our baby sheep and crescent moon sleepers. I could l feel the heat radiating from my face as I got redder and redder. I knew I had done the right thing when Brendan (in spite of how awful he must have felt) smiled and gave me the thumbs up sign. I smiled back.

“You guys are proud of this?” dad exclaimed.

I hadn’t heard mom return and I jumped when she repeated her earlier answer to dad, “Not now… I have to get Brendan back to bed and you need to go to the all-night pharmacy for the things on this list.”

Dad walked out without looking at me. Mom led Brendan back to his room. Before going inside, she asked me if I was sleepy. I answered no.

“Good. You can go with daddy to the pharmacy.”

I was shocked. Didn’t she see how mad he was? He came back a minute later, dressed to go. He must have heard mom because he nudged me on the shoulder and told me to start moving. I had never attempted the stairs in my thick diapers and sleeper. I stumbled on the first couple of steps. Dad got impatient at the slow progress I was making, so he picked me up under the arms and carried me to the bottom.

“Do you need a jacket?”

“It’s upstairs,” I answered.

He hesitated for a second and said, “You’re pretty bundled up in that thing and the car warms up fast. Let’s go.”

We didn’t say anything as went through the kitchen and into the garage. He backed out and I observed that it had been raining.

“No kidding,” he answered sarcastically.

 I retreated into myself and vowed not to say another word. Dad didn’t say anything either. He concentrated on his driving as we went through a particularly heavy downpour. He parked in front of the pharmacy and started to get out.

“Well?” he said.

I stared back blankly.

“Come on... you’re going inside with me. ”

“I can’t,” I answered (so much for my vow of silence!). “I’m not wearing shoes.”

He sighed and walked around to my door.

“Unbuckle the seatbelt.”

He grabbed me under the arms again, only this time he held me against his chest. My arm automatically went around his neck as he adjusted his arm under my diapered bottom. Another downpour started and he used his free hand to keep the rain out of my hair and face.

“Good morning,” the store clerk said. “You picked a lousy time to come in,” he chuckled.

Dad smiled at the man and put me down.

 “I believe my wife phoned to see if you had these items,” he said handing over the note.

“Yes. I’ve got them right over here.”

The man stared at me the whole time. I could tell that he didn’t know what to make of the situation.

“Is this the little boy who’s sick?” the clerk asked.

“No, that would be his younger brother.”

“How old is he?”

“Noah, here? He just turned twelve.”

The clerk tried not to show his surprise, but he failed.

“No,” the clerk amended. “I meant how old is the sick boy. I don’t want to give you the wrong medications.”

“Brendan just turned eleven,” dad answered.

“I see. Then everything is fine. That will be a co-pay of $15.”

Dad handed me the little bag and picked me up again. The clerk was still staring.

“Some boys like to grow up slower than others,” he said.

“I see,” the clerk answered.

But, I could tell that he didn’t see at all.

______

When we got home dad sent me upstairs with Brendan’s medicines. I noticed several things at once: he was wearing his other sleeper with the trains and baby blocks, the window was opened about an inch, and there was a lingering smell of poop in the air. I was instantly jealous. He had messed his diaper and mom had changed him! He was smiling broadly and looked a lot better.

“Good,” mom said, opening the first package. “Where’s daddy?”

“He stayed downstairs.”

“Did you and he talk?” she asked.

“Not really.”

I couldn’t exactly tell but I think she was disappointed. She left to get a glass of water for Brendan’s medicine.

“Did you tell mom everything?” I asked.

“No,” he answered. “But she went through a lot of my stuff when she changed me,” he added with another broad smile.

“You did get changed!” I answered enviously.

He giggled for a second and then got serious. Dad was standing in the doorway.

“How are you feeling?”

“I have a headache and I kind of hurt everywhere,” Brendan explained.

“Mom is getting your medicine ready. You’ll feel better soon.” Then, turning to me, he added, “It’s time that you got back to bed.”

He followed me into my room.

“You felt kind of squishy when I picked you up. Do you need your diaper changed?”

I was floored. My jaw dropped as much as his had when he first saw me in my sleeper.

“I don’t know,” I stammered.

He unzipped my sleeper. A shiver ran through me.

“Cold?” he said.

Not really. I was thrilled that he was going to check my diaper. He ran his hand across the front of my plastic pants and his finger inside the leg bands.

“Time for a change, I think.”

I hesitated. I wanted to scream Yes, but I was afraid of how he might react. I also wondered if this was some kind of test that he would use against me.

“Do you have clean diapers?”

“Uh, yeah,” I answered, still unsure how to act.

“Well?” he asked with an impatient edge to his voice.

“In the closet,” I hurriedly answered.

He stepped aside to let me open the door. He didn’t react to seeing that I had a whole bunch of diapers on the shelves, but he reacted to my taking out two of them.

“We wear a daytime diaper under our nighttime diaper,” I explained.

I then opened the bottom dresser drawer and got a pair of nighttime plastic pants, baby wipes and powder. I put all the stuff on the bed. He arranged the two diapers, helped me step out of my sleeper and then removed my plastic pants and diapers. Standing naked, he cleaned my diaper area.

“OK, onto the bed.”

Before I could move, he picked me up and laid me on the diapers. I couldn’t help smiling. He was trying to be serious but I saw that he smiled a little bit, too. He pinned me into the first diaper and asked if it felt OK. After I said that it did, he pinned me into the nighttime diaper.

“Lift up so I can get your baby pants on.”

I couldn’t help giggling (because that’s what my brother and I called them). He checked the fit and made sure that my diapers were completely covered. He helped me stand up and got me back into the sleeper. Mom had finished giving Brendan his medicine. She stopped in the doorway and looked on as dad finished dressing me.

“I’m too keyed up to go back to bed right now,” she said. “Give me your dirty diapers and I’ll wash them along with Brendan’s.”

He and I had done a wash that afternoon so all I had were the diapers dad had just taken off me.

“How about you? Do you want to go back to bed?” dad asked.

“Kind of,” I hedged.

Actually, I wasn’t really sleepy but I didn’t want to have to talk to my parents until Brendan could be with me. Dad cleared the changing stuff off the bed and tucked me in. Just before leaving, he saw my pacifier on the nightstand. He picked it up and left the room. I heard the water run in the bathroom and he came back.

“Do you want this?” he asked.

I nodded shyly as my face heated up. He turned off the light and left me in the dark… literally and figuratively. Was he mad at us or not? Why did he volunteer to change my diaper? Why did he give me my pacifier?

______

I woke up to a silent house. I started thinking about last night. Brendan and I were lucky that he had been sick—I think that mom and dad would have gotten really angry if they had discovered our diapers and baby clothes under any other circumstance. I wondered if this was the end of it: I mean—were mom and dad going to take away our stuff? Mom had seemed very accepting, but dad’s reaction was unclear. He had obviously been upset when he first saw us, but he had carried me into the pharmacy and even told the man that some boys like to grow up slower than others. Had he said that because he was embarrassed at how I was dressed or because he understood Brendan and me? The sun was coming up and I spotted my pacifier on the edge of the bed. Sucking on it relaxed me and I dozed off.

“Noah! Noah, honey! Time to get up,” mom said softly.

I opened my eyes and saw her smiling face.

“Are you hungry? Do you want breakfast?”

The pacifier was still in my mouth. I took it out, a little embarrassed.

“Yes, please,” I answered.

“OK,” she continued. “Let me check your diapers first.”

She was satisfied that I could wait until after breakfast to get changed. This made my heart beat faster. I was going to get to wear diapers during the day! I sat up and reached over to my nightstand to put the pacifier down. Mom intercepted it.

“We’d better keep this handy,” she said, popping it back into my mouth.

She helped me negotiate the stairs.

“You are not to go up or down these stairs once you’re in your nighttime diapers unless daddy or I are with you. Do you understand?”

I nodded my head up and down seriously.

“Good,” she said. “Remember, bad babies get spankings.”

My surprised look prompted her to add, “Don’t worry. I’m sure that you and Brendan are good babies. I doubt that either of you will get spanked… very often.”

We had reached the kitchen where dad was having his coffee while reading the Saturday paper. He smiled at me (but was his smile as friendly as mom’s?).

“Give daddy a good morning hug,” mom said letting go of my hand.

He put the paper aside and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“I presume you checked his diapers,” dad said.

When mom answered that she had, he picked me up and settled me on his knee. Mom poured cereal and milk into a bowl and set it in front of us.

“Have you got a bib for him?”

“Here… use this,” she said handing him a dishtowel.

He tied it around my neck and removed the pacifier. He gently pushed my hand aside when I reached for the spoon. I opened wide to receive the first spoonful. After a few more, he started bouncing his knee causing me to miss the spoon. The milk and cereal started running down my chin. He stopped feeding me and wiped my chin with the towel.

“Babies are so messy!” he teased at the same time as he tickled me through my sleeper. “And squirmy, too!”

“No fair!” I mock-complained.

This was incredible! Dad was playing with me just as if I were a real baby. I couldn’t wait to tell Brendan.

 ______

I spent the day enjoying my parents’ attention. After breakfast, I was dressed in a daytime diaper, a baby-print onesie, and a regular pair of pants. I got changed four times, once from a poopy diaper! I was really excited about all this. The only thing missing was that I couldn’t enjoy it with Brendan. He slept all day. By nightfall, though, he was feeling better and mom said he could come downstairs. I summarized my day and Brendan was as excited about it as me. Still, we were realistic enough to know that some form of punishment was sure to follow.

It all hit the fan, so to speak, on Sunday. Brendan was ninety percent recovered and had gotten up for breakfast with the rest of us. It was obvious that both dad and mom were mad that we had spent so much money without their permission. They extracted a complete, teary-eyed confession from us. The part about keeping our grandmother’s cash gifts really set them off.

“But we sent thank-you notes!” I said defensively.

“Don’t try to evade the issue,” mom shot back. “You know the rule—half of all gift money goes to savings.”

There was no way we could deny that, so we hung our heads and withstood another blast of parental anger.

“So… enough said. Now for your punishment.”

Brendan and I glanced at each other. I don’t know about him, but I was more than a little nervous. Punishments are always worse when mom and dad give them right after they finish yelling at us.

“Obviously,” dad said, “making you wear these baby clothes is going to please you, so that can’t be the actual punishment.”

My heart sank (and I noticed that Brendan’s face fell). It sounded like they were going to take our stuff away from us.

“On the other hand,” he continued, “you’ve spent a lot of money that shouldn’t be allowed to go to waste. So, you will wear the diapers and plastic pants, only not in secret.”

“What does that mean?” Brendan asked.

“It means that no matter where you go, you’ll be in diapers day and night— and you’ll wear them so thick that anyone who looks at you will understand instantly what you’re wearing under your pants.”

“How thick?” I asked fearfully.

“As thick as it takes. We’ll start with two daytime diapers and see if that does the job.”

“Even in school?” Brendan gasped.

“That’s right,” mom confirmed.

My mind was racing, imagining the kind of treatment I would get from my friends. Brendan looked just as white as when he threw up on Friday night.

“We’ll get killed!” he exclaimed.

Mom and dad were unmoved.

“We don’t have enough diapers to do that,” I pointed out.

Dad cracked a sly smile and said, “That’s already been taken care of. We ordered plenty of supplies online yesterday. With rush delivery, they should be here by Tuesday, in plenty of time to go to grandma and grandpa’s for Thanksgiving.”

Dad helped Brendan and me get up the stairs. He sent Brendan to bed and I went to my room to think. This had to be a bluff on their part. They would never send us to school to be ridiculed. Brendan snuck into my room a few minutes later.

“What are we going to do?” he asked.

“I think they’re just trying to scare us,” I said.

“I don’t know…”

This was a scary answer coming from him. While I always hoped for the best, he was more realistic and was just about always right when it came to predicting what mom and dad would do.

“We’d never get our pants zipped up wearing two diapers,” I said.

“Yeah,” he agreed, relaxing visibly. “They couldn’t send us to school without pants.”

We agreed that going to school in two diapers wasn’t possible. Now that we had that settled, Brendan said he felt tired and went to bed. I hadn’t been changed out of my sleeper yet so I called from the top of the stairs.

“Do you want to come downstairs,” dad asked.

“Not yet,” I answered. “Can you change me out of my sleeper?”

We went together into my room. He cleaned me up and put me into double daytime diapers. They made a really big bulge that I was happy about. There was no way my pants would fit. Dad put my socks on and then pulled a sweatshirt over my head.

“Wait here,” he said cryptically before going out into the hall.

“Honey,” he called, “where did you put the bag with the boys’ new pants?”

I fell back onto the bed as if someone had punched me in the stomach. I didn’t hear mom’s answer but dad went downstairs. I hoped against hope that this was all part of a plan to scare my brother and me. I knew for sure that it wasn’t when dad walked in with a new pair of tan corduroys. They didn’t seem that bad until I noticed that they were actually bib overalls. I stepped into them and dad fastened the side buttons. Even before he adjusted the shoulder straps I saw how prominent my diapers were. I couldn’t go to school wearing these!

“OK, let’s roll up the pants legs. Mom will shorten them later,” dad said. “Do you want to come down and watch the Giants play?” he added.

I hesitated for several seconds. I loved the Giants but I didn’t think I could concentrate on the game. I had never been so scared about anything in my whole life. How could I face my friends looking like this?

“Come on,” dad coaxed. “It’s no good staying up here worrying.”

I looked at him in surprise.

“It doesn’t take a genius to read the expression on your face, “ he explained.

Brendan joined us during the fourth quarter. He did a double-take but avoided saying anything in front of dad. We went up to his room after the game was over.

“Did you get a look at the pants mom and dad bought for me?” he asked with concern.

“This is all I’ve seen. Dad brought these up to my room when he dressed me,” I explained.

“I sure hope that we don’t have to wear these to school,” he said. “Did you know that your baby pants show?”

“Where?” I asked in a panic.

“Here… when you’re sitting down, ” he said pointing to the area between the side buttons that held the overalls together. “Your sweat shirt doesn’t come down far enough to cover them.”

“Maybe these are only for wearing around the house,” I said doubtfully.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t believe it any more than I did. We had been sitting in silence for a few seconds when mom came in.

“Ah! Here you are! How are you feeling, Brendan?” she asked.

When he said he felt OK, she touched his forehead and cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Your fever seems to be gone,” she remarked. “Does your head still hurt?” When he confirmed that it didn’t, she said, “In that case, come with me. You need a bath and then you can try on your new pants.” And, to me, she added, “I’ll shorten yours as soon as I’m finished with Brendan.”

She brought him back to his room wrapped in a towel. She diapered him and, except for not having pants on, he was dressed like me in a sweatshirt. We went to the laundry room where she kept her sewing machine. There were three more pairs of pants in a bag—all of them overalls. We were obviously going to be dressed like twins: there was one more pair of tan overalls for him and two pairs of bright green ones. We were shocked speechless—the green ones were incredibly babyish looking. This was going a lot farther than we had ever anticipated.

“We have to wear these to school!” Brendan exclaimed.

“Of course,” mom answered. “Why not?”

“We’re going to look like babies!” I said.

She looked at us in mock surprise.

“You want to wear diapers and not look like babies? I don’t think so!”

Brendan’s overalls needed shortening just like mine. Mom marked them and told us to take them off.

“It’s cold!” I complained.

“Go to the den and wrap yourselves in the throw.”

Dad looked at us funny. We explained that mom was shortening our pants.

“Do you guys want something to drink?” he asked during the next commercial.

We said yes and he came back with baby bottles filled with juice. We couldn’t help giggling about it. This was so weird.

______

Monday morning. I was dressed and waiting for dad to drive me to school. I was scared to death. I had on essentially the same things as the previous day: the tan corduroy overalls and a dark blue sweatshirt. Mom had just finished packing my “diaper bag.”

“I hope that three changes will be enough,” she said. “It’s all we can spare until your new things arrive.”

Earlier, while I was being changed I volunteered to wear only one diaper so that we would be sure that I’d have enough supplies. Of course, my mother saw through that immediately.

“What?” she asked in mock surprise. “I don’t think so! No one would know that you’re diapered!”

So, there I stood—my pants bulging out on all sides. To make matters worse, mom was letting Brendan sleep in. She said that she would bring him to school later.

“Can’t I wear only one diaper? Please!” I begged.

“I’ve already said no,” mom answered impatiently.

“Please!” I repeated in an extremely whiny voice.

“No!” she said emphatically. “Keep this up and I’ll pin a pacifier to your overalls and ask Mrs. Carver to make sure you use it all day.”

I was stunned and utterly defeated. Tears rose to my eyes. I quickly wiped them away before mom could see. Wouldn’t she make me go to school with the pacifier if she thought I was a crybaby?

“Get your jacket,” dad said. “We’re leaving.”

______

I carried my backpack and dad had the diaper bag. He had to park about a half-block away from the entrance. My jacket seemed woefully inadequate—not that I was cold; it was simply too short to cover my bulging diapers. Dad had to push me to get me to pass through the doors. Nobody seemed to notice anything unusual about me as we made our way to the main office.

“I’d like to see Mrs. Greenway,” dad said. “I believe my wife called.”

The secretary recognized me and led us to the principal’s office.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” dad said. “Noah and his brother Brendan have been secretly playing in diapers for quite some time.”

Mrs. Greenway’s eyes darted over to my pants. I saw her surprise as she recognized the truth of what I was wearing. She refocused her attention onto dad.

“Brendan was sick over the weekend. My wife is letting him sleep in this morning but she will probably have him here by 10:00. When she does, you will undoubtedly notice that he, too, will be diapered. From now on, they will have diaper supplies with them every morning. I don’t believe that this should cause any inconvenience to your personnel, as the boys are completely independent when it comes to changing. I expect that their double diapers will only need changing twice a day on the average.”

Dad stopped talking. I was even more stunned than when mom had threatened to send me to school with a pacifier pinned to me. He had completely humiliated me by laying out the whole truth in just a few sentences. Mrs. Greenway took a moment to collect herself.

“I see. Well, I suppose the best thing would be for them to change in the sick room. They can report here first and someone will unlock it for them.”

“That seems satisfactory. I hope that this won’t prove to be a problem for you.”

“No…. no,” Mrs. Greenway said slowly. “But, the boys… their friends and the other children might not understand…”

“Their mother and I don’t understand, either,” dad said cutting her off.

“Yes, right…” she agreed.

Dad abruptly handed me the diaper bag and told me to be a good boy. I was left standing in front of Mrs. Greenway.

“I suppose we should bring your supplies to the sick room.”

I put the bag on the floor next to a big metal cabinet. Mrs. Greenway seemed unsure what to do with me. She finally decided to bring me to my classroom, where Mrs. Carver was setting things up. I hung my coat and went directly to my desk in the otherwise empty room. She and Mrs. Carver had a whispered conversation. Mrs. Greenway left just as other kids began filing in. My friend Jake asked me why I was dressed in the funny overalls, to which I mumbled that my mother was making me wear them. Nothing else was said, but I was a nervous wreck. The morning dragged on until it was time for recess.

“Aren’t you coming outside?” Jake asked me.

“Nah, I gotta finish my spelling homework before Mrs. Carver finds out I didn’t do it,” I lied.

He shrugged and left. Mrs. Carver came over to my desk. I felt my face getting hotter and hotter.

“Do you need to change your diapers?” she asked in a kindly voice.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. I shook my head from side to side.

“Are you sure?” she insisted. “… OK,” she reluctantly agreed, leaving the room.

I stood up now that I was alone. I felt my diaper sag inside my plastic pants. I guess I had wet more than I thought. Recess was almost over when I heard a commotion in the hallway. I peeked out and saw that Brendan had come to school and was being teased for his babyish overalls. Suddenly, one of his classmates noticed how puffed-out they were.

“It looks like you’re wearing diapers!” he teased.

Brendan froze. His face turned bright red and he opened his mouth to answer, but he obviously didn’t know what to say. The kid looked at him again and realized that he had been right. The others who were standing around figured it out, too. Brendan broke away and ran into his classroom. Recess was over. I ran back to my seat, shaking with fear. I knew that I was only seconds away from everyone figuring out that I was wearing diapers, too.

“Do you and Brendan wet the bed?” my friend Jake asked bluntly.

“No!” I answered quickly.

“Then why is your mom dressing you guys like babies?” he pressed.

I opened my mouth to deny everything but, like Brendan, I found that there was nothing to say. The other kids began to snicker and point. Despite my denial, word spread quickly that I was being punished for wetting my bed. Mrs. Carver figured out pretty quickly what was happening and tried her best to get everyone seated. She had to threaten detention to get everyone quieted down. The rest of the morning was horrible as I felt everyone staring at me. Just before the lunch bell rang, Mrs. Carver gave another stern warning about behavior. Everyone stared at me, knowing full well that I was the cause of her threats and, by extension, that it would be my fault if anyone got into trouble. Once again, I stayed in my seat after the bell rang. After everyone was gone, I stood up and knew that I had to get to the sick room to change my diapers. I started out of the room.

“Where’s your lunch?” Mrs. Carver asked.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat something. Please come back and get it.”

It would have been useless to argue so I did as I was told. A few kids in the hallway laughed as I passed by. I was grateful that that was all they did. I went to the main office and the secretary told me that Brendan was already in the sick room. I knocked. The door opened a crack and Brendan let me in. He had already taken off his shoes and overalls.

“Everyone in my room thinks that we wet the bed!” I exclaimed in dismay.

“My room, too,” Brendan answered. “I guess it’s better than if they knew the truth.”

“I guess,” I agreed glumly. “But, still…”

There was nothing more to say so we helped each other change.

“Are you going to eat lunch?” Brendan asked.

“I’m not hungry,” I answered.

“Me neither.”

We went out to the yard, ready for the onslaught. I almost wished that somebody had assaulted us or said absolutely mean things. As it was, the snickering and baby talk drove me crazy. I was particularly hurt that both Jake and Jon, my two best friends, joined in wholeheartedly. Eventually, the teachers monitoring the yard stopped the teasing but that was almost worse. Brendan and I were left all alone, ignored and humiliated. We had nothing else to do, so we sat down and rummaged through our lunches, picking at the fruit that mom had packed.

“Uh oh!” Brendan said, noticing that Dennis Wertner, a kid in his class, was coming toward us.

“Those guys are really stupid,” he said without preamble. “Like it’s your fault that you wet the bed.”

The reference to us being bedwetters stung, but the rest of his statement sounded supportive.

“Uh, thanks,” Brendan answered.

“Can I sit with you guys?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Brendan agreed. “Want any?” he added, offering some of his grapes.

______

Brendan and I didn’t want to go to school on Tuesday. He tried to use the excuses that his flu was coming back, but mom didn’t buy it. So, diapered and wearing our green overalls, we waited for her to finish packing our diaper bags.

“This will be so much easier starting tomorrow,” she said.

“How come?” I wondered.

“Because your new diapers arrive today and I’ll be able to pack your diaper bags the night before.”

The mocking we received over our green overalls was even worse than I had expected. We even fell into a stupid trap that made us reveal way more about our diapers than we ever intended. It started with my so-called friend Jake.

“Look how thick your diapers are!” he taunted. “Is your mommy making you wear an extra diaper today?”

“No!” I protested vehemently. “She only put two diapers on us.”

This caused a howl of laughter.

“If you’re wearing two diapers, how come you don’t make crinkly noises like my baby brother does?” another kid asked.

“Because we’re wearing cloth diapers!” Brendan explained.

“Cloth diapers!” Sandra (a girl in my class) said. “Then you wear baby pants, too?”

“Of course…” Brendan and I started to say simultaneously, before we fully realized what we were admitting to. “They’re not baby pants!” I tried to correct over the laughter. “They’re called plastic pants. Lots of bedwetting kids wear them!”

How stupid! I had just admitted that we wore baby pants and also appeared to confirm that we were bedwetters.

“All right, leave the boys alone,” one of the yard monitors said.

Brendan and I were ready to die of humiliation. I apologized for revealing that we wore baby pants.

“I fell into the trap, too,” he answered magnanimously.

When mom picked us up, she confirmed that our supplies had arrived. Despite our recent experiences at school, Brendan and I got excited. There were dozens of daytime and nighttime diapers and plastic pants.

“We’d better make sure nobody ever finds out about these,” I said holding up a pair of semi-transparent blue pants with baby rattles printed all over.

“Wait a minute,” Brendan added, digging deeper into the box. “All of them are baby print pants!”

“And look at these over here! They’re way too big!”

“Good!” mom said, joining us. “Let’s get a load of these diapers into the washer.”

“Mom!” I pointed out. “These plastic pants are too big!”

“Not at all, honey,” she responded. “Those baby pants will be just right for nighttime. You’re going to wear double nighttime diapers now, instead of one daytime and one nighttime.”

That was going to be huge!

“But…” I started, intending to point out that we wouldn’t be able to walk.

“Not now,” she said. “We’ll talk about it later. Let’s get the washer going.”

Brendan and I exchanged glances. He shrugged and smiled. I smiled back, acknowledging that it would be fun to wear huge diapers at night. After loading the washer, mom told us to go back to our rooms. Starting with Brendan, she removed everything from his dresser and closet that was ‘big boy.’ There was practically nothing left: she had removed most of his shirts and all his pants and underwear. I tried to salvage some of my stuff but she simply ignored me. In fact, I think she took more away from me than from Brendan. Maybe complaining had backfired. I was right about the double nighttime diapers: they were so huge we could barely walk. However, we weren’t going to complain about dad carrying us up and down the stairs. That same night, a great tradition also started: a nighttime bottle when we were tucked into bed.

______

I woke up early on Thursday, Thanksgiving Day. The house was quiet except for furnace noises. I hadn’t finished my bottle from the previous night so I grabbed it. I was very content for the moment, but concerned about the day. We were going to my grandma and grandpa’s for the traditional dinner. We would be 12 people. How many of them already knew that Brendan and I were in diapers? Seven of them were adults: mom and dad, our grandparents, one uncle, and two aunts. Then, there was Brendan and me; one girl cousin aged 9; and, two boy cousins aged 11 and 9 1/2. I was expecting the most trouble for our cousin Amy. She was a real prissy know-it-all who constantly tattled on us at family gatherings. She was sure to tease us and I doubted that mom and dad would stop her. I also wondered about Artie, who just about Brendan’s age. We usually got along well but who knew how he would react to our babyish overalls and bulging diapers? Last of all was Bobby, Artie’s younger brother, who usually followed his older brother’s lead.

“Good morning,” dad said brightly. “Do you want to get up?”

He lifted me from the bed and carried me to the kitchen.

“Dad, does everybody know that Brendan and me are going to be in diapers?”

“I suppose so,” he answered distractedly while measuring the coffee.

“I mean, what about Amy and Artie?”

“I don’t know; you’ll have to ask mom.”

After he started the coffee brewing, he tied a big bib on me. (This was part of Tuesday’s shipment. We had gotten a total of six, which Brendan and I were sharing indiscriminately.) He then fed me cereal. I wondered about dinner again.

“Dad?” I asked between bites. “Can Brendan and me feed ourselves at grandma’s today?”

“I doubt it,” he answered.

I wasn’t surprised at the answer. Except for lunches at school, we had been fed every meal since mom and dad discovered us in diapers.

“And we’ll have to drink from baby bottles, too?” I asked.

Dad stopped feeding me.

“Does this mean that you don’t want to wear diapers anymore?”

“No,” I answered in a small voice.

“You want to keep on wearing them, don’t you? And, you like being treated like a baby?” he pressed.

 “Yes,” I answered again.

“And I think you even like your new plastic pants with the baby prints on them,” he continued.

“Yes,” I repeated.

“Well, I don’t see how mom and I can stop treating you like a baby. Can you?”

“No, I guess not.”

He gave me a squeeze and continued feeding me. My life had become so confusing. I really liked how we were treated at home. I just wished that everyone didn’t have to know about it. Why were mom and dad so insistent on this point? I have a feeling that dad sort of feels the same way; that is, I think he has fun playing with us and carrying us around like babies (and even changing our diapers), but I also think that he is embarrassed in public. I brought these points up with Brendan while we watched TV.

“I know what you mean,” he agreed. “But… I guess… I really don’t care what everybody thinks.”

“Not even in school?”

“Not even in school. I never had as many friends as you did,” he said sadly. “Nobody liked me anyway. Anthony is sort of still talking to me and Dennis is talking to me a lot more.”

I was stunned by this admission. I guess I had never noticed, but the only friend he had ever brought to the house was Anthony.

“OK, guys, bath time,” dad said picking up Brendan. “Noah, turn the TV off and I’ll be back for you in a second.”

I was anxious for dad to get back and carry me upstairs, especially when I heard Brendan giggling. As I had expected, he tickled me on the way up. Brendan was already in the tub. Dad got me out of my sleeper and diapers. Mom gave us a thorough scrubbing, including washing our hair. She called dad to help dry us off.

“OK, your diapers are ready,” he said as he finished combing my hair.

He was getting pretty quick at diapering me. (Something I needed to correct!) He slid a new pair of yellow baby pants covered with rocket ships and puppies in space helmets over my diapers. He then put me into white knee socks and black shoes.

“Here… wear your bathrobe. Mom doesn’t want you messing up your new clothes before we get to grandma and grandpa’s.”

What new clothes was he talking about? Knee socks meant short pants. What kind of short pants? Would they be so short that our baby pants would show? How would our cousins react to that? I went into Brendan’s room. He was just putting on his bathrobe.

“Those are exactly like the baby pants dad put on me!” I exclaimed.

“Really?” he giggled. “Let me see!”

He giggled again when I opened my bathrobe.

“I think they’re cool!” he added.

“What about these shoes and socks? Did mom tell you what new clothes we’re going to wear?”

“Nope. All she said was that she didn’t want us to wreck them. Why?”

I explained my fears over our cousins laughing at us.

“You know,” he said wisely, “Amy is going to laugh at us no matter what—even if we wear our regular clothes over our diapers.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right. But what about Artie?”

“Artie’s always been pretty cool. Don’t worry about him. Besides, whatever the new clothes are, you can bet that we’re going to be dressed exactly alike.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“You don’t really think that mom and dad accidentally put us into the exact same baby pants, do you?”

I didn’t. And that increased my fear that our baby pants were going to be on display.

______

Thanksgiving dinner at grandma and grandpa’s is special. For this reason, mom and dad always dress up. This year, they decided to wear matching black pants and gold satin shirts. Brendan thought they looked like pirates. Dad thought that was funny and asked mom if he could borrow one of her hoop earrings. Mom agreed, knowing full well that dad would never do it. Anyway, it was time for us to get dressed. Mom asked us to come with her to the master bedroom. Two gold shirts lay on the bed. I felt relieved. We would be dressed similarly to mom and dad. I hoped that the shorts wouldn’t be too short.

“Auntie Lynn went to a lot trouble making these outfits for you on short notice. Make sure you thank her as soon as you see her,” mom said holding one up.

My jaw dropped. That wasn’t a shirt! That was a one-piece baby romper! It had short puffy sleeves, a rounded baby collar, and—most prominently of all—puffy elasticized legs… and everything was made of the same shiny gold satin.

“Auntie Lynn made those?” I cried.

Auntie Lynn was Amy’s mom and she may even have helped make them! I was sure that she wouldn’t shut up all day about them.

“Do we have to wear those?” Brendan asked in a pleading voice.

“Of course you do!” mom answered in her no-nonsense tone. “Take off your bathrobes.”

She guided my feet through the leg holes and my arms through the short sleeves. I caught sight of myself in the closet mirror as she buttoned up the back. The waist was held tight by an inside elastic. From there, the “pants” ballooned out. It was awful. I started to cry.

“Oh, for heaven sakes,” she said. “Stop that.”

But I couldn’t. This was ten times worse than everyone in school knowing that I wore cloth diapers and baby pants.

“Honey!” mom called, “Could you bring…”

Before she could finish, dad was in the room.

“I’ve got it covered,” he said, popping a pacifier into my mouth.

He sat me on his knee and gently rocked me. I watched Brendan being put into his romper. He didn’t cry like me, but tears were silently streaming down his cheeks. Dad handed a pacifier to mom and Brendan accepted it gratefully.

“I’d forgotten how quickly babies go from being perfectly content to miserable,” mom said sardonically.

Dad brought us to the bathroom and washed our faces with a cold towel.

“You don’t want to look like you’ve been crying when you get to grandma and grandpa’s, do you?”

Still sucking on our pacifiers, we went downstairs to put on our coats. These were new, too. They were only slightly longer than jackets—most of our shiny gold “pants” still showed. Mom took us under her control and put us into baby-style knit hats that had a pom-pom on top, snowman patches on the front, and earflaps that formed into ties under our chins. Lastly, we put on white mittens.

I was in a daze as we headed to the car. We were halfway to my grandparents before it occurred to me that I was still sucking my pacifier. So was Brendan. I reached up to take it out but stopped midway when I noticed how it covered his mouth and chin. That, along with the hat that came down almost to his eyes, made him practically unrecognizable. I decided that it was better to leave it in. We were the last to arrive and had to park in the street. I wanted to get out quickly and run up to the house but my door wouldn’t open. I thought it was because of the mittens, until dad explained that he had reactivated the child safety locks. He took my hand and walked me to the front door. Grandma, smiling and cooing, greeted us; from behind her, Amy let out a screech. Brendan and I went beet red with embarrassment and anger. I felt doubly humiliated that she had seen us with pacifiers in our mouths.

“Just shut up!” I shouted after taking the pacifier out.

“Noah!” dad warned. “Watch your manners. Apologize to your cousin.”

I looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“Now,” he said firmly.

“I’m sorry I told you to shut up,” I whispered.

“We didn’t hear you,” dad said.

“I’m sorry I told you to shut up,” I said louder but totally insincerely.

Everyone got up to greet us. Our cousins Artie and Bobby stayed in the background. Artie’s look of horror felt better than the way everyone else acted. Why were they pretending that our being dressed in baby clothes and diapers was normal?

“Can I help undress the babies?” Amy asked gleefully.

Amy pounced on Brendan, who looked miserable as she removed his hat and mittens. She squealed even louder than before when she got a look at us without our coats.

“Auntie Anna, they look like real baby dolls!”

“We do not!” Brendan objected loudly.

Artie and Bobby snickered, further embarrassing Brendan and me.

“You watch your tone,” mom warned.

“But she called us babies!” I said in Brendan’s defense.

“What else do you call boys who wear baby diapers, baby pants, and baby outfits?”

Artie and Bobby’s eyes grew round in amazement. They snickered even louder.

“Now, go play nicely with your cousins. If I hear arguing or fighting, you’ll get at least a half-hour of pacifier time. Is that understood?”

Another amazed look crossed Artie and Bobby’s faces. Amy smiled smugly at us, daring us to object.

“That means you, too,” uncle Glenn said to Artie and Bobby. “Any teasing or arguing with your cousins will get you a time out and restrictions later at home.”

The only thing that went in our favor was that grandma asked Amy to help her in the kitchen. She obviously wanted to stay around to taunt us, but grandma made it sound like her help was absolutely necessary.

“OK!” she agreed. And then firing one last shot, added, “Babies cause work; you can’t expect them to do it.”

Grandma had an inflexible rule about family gatherings: no television. Therefore, we couldn’t watch football. Grandpa, dad, and uncle Glenn went into the living room while the rest of us went into the den. There was a Christmas tree standing in the corner. The lights were already in it and the decorations were piled neatly alongside. We would all decorate it later. There was an awkward silence as we surveyed the room. Brendan plopped down on the couch. The right leg of his “pants” slid up exposing some of his yellow baby pants.

“Geez, when your mom said you wore baby pants, she meant baby pants,” Artie sneered.

“We didn’t pick these out. Mom and dad ordered them. It’s not our fault that we get dressed like twins!” I said.

“You mean that you’re wearing yellow baby pants, too!” Artie answered in amazement.

I felt myself turn red. Bobby started snickering again.

“Are you boys teasing your cousins?” uncle Glenn called.

“No,” Artie and Bobby lied in unison.

“I’d better not find out that you are. Are they, Noah? Brendan?”

Boys’ honor was at stake. Brendan and I couldn’t snitch on Artie and Bobby. That would make us just like Amy!

“No!” Brendan and I answered.

“Good. Why don’t you play a game or something before you get yourselves into trouble?”

Bobby suggested Chinese checkers, which he asked grandpa to get out of the garage. We sat on the floor around the coffee table. From the start, it was obvious that Brendan and I would have trouble keeping our baby pants from peeking out. Both Bobby and Artie noticed, but it was Bobby who snickered.

“Quit it!” Artie said sharply to his brother. “Do you want dad to think that we’re teasing Brendan and Noah?”

This single remark changed the whole atmosphere. Brendan and I became more relaxed and Artie acted like his usual friendly self. We played quietly for a couple of rounds.

“Can I ask you guys a question without you getting mad?” Artie asked.

“OK,” we answered warily.

“Is what Amy says true—that you guys got caught playing in diapers?”

“Not exactly,” Brendan answered.

He then explained how he had been sick and how mom and dad found out about our diapers.

“But why were you wearing them?” Bobby insisted.

This is where we had to admit that we had been playing in diapers and baby pants when mom and dad weren’t home. We were only partway through the story when Dad came in. He told us to stand up so that he could check our diapers.

“Mom will have your heads and mine if you guys leak onto your new clothes.”

Bobby thought this was funny and I couldn’t blame him. At least dad’s comment had the effect of taking a little bit of our cousins’ attention away from him checking inside the leg openings of our baby pants.

“Go up to the guest room and undress. I’ll get your diaper bags and meet you there.”

We did as we were told.

“Geez,” I asked, “why are there so many buttons on these things?”

“Probably to keep us from taking them off,” Brendan answered reasonably.

Dad did his usual quick job of changing us. (I really had to think of a way to slow him down!) This time we were put into light orange baby pants covered in baby rattles and yellow rubber ducks.

“I hope Amy doesn’t find out about these!” Brendan said.

We came back down just in time for dinner. Things went steadily downhill. Amy teased us mercilessly (and without comment from the adults) about our bibs (Big Bird for me and Elmo for Brendan). Artie and Bobby joined in, making nastier and nastier comments as we ate. The most embarrassing part was getting our milk in baby bottles.

“Let’s leave the dishes for later,” grandma announced. “It’s time to decorate the tree.”

Grandpa lit the tree and, as usual, the adults each hung a decoration and then turned it over to us.

“I think that babies should only be allowed to touch the wooden and cloth decorations. They might break the glass ones,” Amy announced imperiously.

“OK,” I agreed to her great surprise. “You any Bobby are the youngest, so you can’t touch the glass ones.”

“I meant,” she countered huffily, “babies who still wear diapers!”

“Amy,” Auntie Lynn warned, “that’s enough!”

“You, too,” mom chimed in.

I felt vindicated that Amy had also been told to shut up. We went to work, and the decorations, except for the star on top, were placed in less than a half-hour. The honor of placing the star went to whoever drew the short straw. Grandpa had them all ready and presented the first one to Amy. Hers was long. Bobby and Brendan came next and they, too, got long ones. This meant that Artie or I were it. I didn’t want to draw, so Artie did. He got a long straw.

“OK!” grandpa said to me, “I’ll get the step ladder.”

“No need to do that,” dad said. “He’s not so big that I can’t still lift him! I’ve been getting a lot of practice, too!”

This caused Amy to snicker and say something to Bobby about babies. Would she never give up? Anyway, grandpa gave me the star and I stood in front of the tree. Dad grabbed me just above the waist and lifted me. I grabbed a branch for stability and started placing the star on the top branch.

“Omigod!” Amy screeched. “Noah is wearing real baby pants!”

I looked down saw that my rompers had ridden up.

“Come on, Noah,” dad said. “Finish the job. I can’t hold you here forever.”

And I didn’t want to be held there forever! I hastily finished the job and readjusted my rompers as soon as dad put me down.

“Do you wear baby pants, too?” Amy asked Brendan.

“So what?” he answered boldly.

Her response consisted of covering her mouth with her hand and snickering louder.

“They were wearing yellow baby pants with rocket ships on them before!” Bobby added gleefully.

This sent her over edge. She approached Brendan and tried to pull up the leg band of his rompers.

“Hey!” he objected.

Grandma saved us from a big fight by asking who was ready for dessert. Naturally, we all were. Afterwards, we were sent back to the den (with strict instructions to behave). Since Amy was included, I only went because dad forced me to. She and I glared at each other in warning for a few seconds.

“Let’s play Chinese checkers again!” Bobby suggested.

We all got around the coffee table. Since Amy had already seen my baby pants, she didn’t make a big deal out of our inability to stop our rompers from riding up when we sat on the floor. She snickered a bit, but otherwise was OK. About fifteen minutes into the game, Brendan got up and left the room. He looked distraught when he came back. He fidgeted for a while and then, to his horror and mine, began to poop his diaper. Everybody knew it. His faced turned bright red.

“I asked if I could use the toilet but mom said no!” he explained tearfully.

“Geez! What a baby!” Bobby sneered. “You smell!”

Brendan was in the middle of standing up when Bobby reached over and gave him a push.

“That’s right! Get out of here, stinky pants!”

“Hey!” I said, getting up to help Brendan. “Leave him alone.”

“Yeah? And you leave my brother alone, too!” Artie said.

“What Bobby did wasn’t fair!” I objected.

“So what? Is the other baby going to stop him?”

Before I could react, he gave me a pretty big shove. I fell backwards and hit my head on the corner of the coffee table. Just like in cartoons, I swear that I saw stars. The commotion had drawn the attention of the adults. Grandpa, dad, and uncle Glenn arrived first.

“What’s going on here?” my uncle asked.

I was still lying on the floor and Brendan was crying. Amy, ever the tattletale, was right in her element.

“Brendan pooped his diaper and Bobby pushed him when he tried to get up. Noah and Artie started fighting and Artie pushed Noah and he fell and banged his head against the table,” she explained breathlessly.

Grandma, mom, and my aunts arrived. Mom took Brendan away, presumably to change his diaper. Grandpa helped me get up. He asked where I had hit my head. He gently probed the area and I screamed in pain when he touched the spot. (OK… so I exaggerated how much it hurt. I was mad at Artie and wanted him to get into as much trouble as possible.) As I had hoped, uncle Glenn got really steamed, sending Artie and Bobby to the living room to sit quietly. Grandma prepared a bag of ice to put on the bump. For the rest of the night, Amy was really nice to Brendan and me. Are girls weird or what?

______

Brendan and I also got into trouble for the way we had behaved at grandma and grandpa’s. We tried to explain that Artie and Bobby had started everything but dad gave us the it-takes-two-to-tango speech. Anyway, being grounded on Friday wasn’t a big deal. Neither of us had made plans to go anywhere, and we had plenty of fun playing together. Saturday morning, after breakfast, mom announced that we had a 10:00 appointment.

“Where?” I asked.

“At the mall… to get our pictures taken. It’s an early Christmas gift from grandma and grandpa. We haven’t had family portraits taken in three years.”

“I don’t want my picture taken!” Brendan said petulantly.

I agreed silently, especially not at the mall.

“Pictures like last time?” I asked.

“Yes.”

The last time we had done this, it had taken forever. First, there were pictures with all of us dressed up, followed by pictures of each of us separately. Then, when I thought everything was over, we had to change and pictures were taken of us in casual clothes.

“What are we going to wear?” Brendan asked.

“Clothes,” mom answered impatiently.

Dad brought us upstairs and, after a quick wash, changed us into daytime diapers. We got the same white shoes and knee socks to wear as on Thanksgiving Day.

“We don’t want to wear the rompers for the picture!” Brendan complained.

Normally, I would have been irritated by Brendan’s presuming to speak for me, but not this time. Dad shot both of us a warning look.

“We’re not going over the rules again. When you guys decided that you wanted to be babies, you gave up your decision-making rights. Or do you want to find out what a full spanking feels like?”

“No!” Brendan and I shouted together, each of us instinctively clutching his diapered backside as if it were imminent.

We went in search of mom who was just finishing the ironing of our gold satin rompers. She was dressed in a fancy maroon dress. Dad wore a dark blue suit and a gold and maroon striped tie. I was scared to death by the time we arrived at the mall. This was the Saturday after Thanksgiving… everybody would be there, and here were Brendan and I dressed in our baby hats, mittens, and new coats. I tried hiding behind dad but he grabbed my hand and made me walk next to him. We had to walk a long way through the parking garage before we came to the mall entrance. We rode the escalator up to the second level. Everybody was staring at us.

“Is the mall having a children’s show?” one lady asked mom.

She smiled and answered that we were dressed for our family portrait. The lady walked away shaking her head. The photographer took a whole bunch of pictures. First, there was the formal picture of the four of us standing together. Brendan was in front of mom and I was in front of dad. Then, there was a picture where mom and dad were sitting and Brendan was on dad’s lap and mom had her arm around my waist. Then there were a bunch of pictures of Brendan and me and of mom and dad. Finally, mom called a halt.

“I think that we have everything we want,” she declared.

I couldn’t wait to get out and neither could Brendan! We raced for our coats.

“What are you guys doing?” she asked.

“You said we were finished,” Brendan said.

“I meant that we’re finished with the formal portraits. Now, we’re going to get changed and do informal shots, in casual clothes.”

We went to a changing room where mom and dad decided that we also needed our diapers changed. Santa Claus and reindeer plastic pants were slid over our diapers. It was only then that I realized the significance of the small suitcase and garment bag that mom and dad had carried in with them.

“OK. You guys are ready,” mom said. Turning to dad, she added, “Why don’t you start out supervising them while I get changed?”

“I don’t want to go out there like this!” I screamed.

Brendan wasn’t happy about things either.

“No way!” he added.

“Oh, yes,” dad answered calmly.

“No!” we shrieked nervously.

Still, we wouldn’t budge. Tears were coming to our eyes. Either way you looked at it, we were in for some heavy embarrassment. We yielded, figuring that getting a spanking would only make us appear more babyish.

“Brendan first,” dad said.

The photographer sat him on a carpeted platform and lowered the camera to his level. His Santa Claus and reindeer pants ballooned out all around him.

“Wait!” dad said.

He came back from the dressing room and put a red and white pacifier in Brendan’s mouth. He looked absolutely miserable. I hoped that dad and the photographer would figure out what lousy pictures they were going to get.

“OK, Brendan,” the photographer said. “Let’s play a game. Let’s see how may times you can touch the butterfly without getting up.”

The photographer began waving a silk butterfly on a stick just over Brendan’s head. At first, Brendan waved at it listlessly; but, after the photographer tapped it a couple of times on Brendan’s head, he started getting into the game. His eyes followed the target carefully. He started giggling every time he touched it. I was fuming. How could Brendan fall for such a stupid trick? When my turn came I sure wasn’t going to fall for that!

“OK, Noah, your turn,” the photographer said.

Dad stuck an identical red and white pacifier into my mouth and then adjusted my plastic pants so that they ballooned out like Brendan’s. I was in one of the foulest moods I had ever been in. The photographer began waving the butterfly over my head but I completely ignored it. He tapped me a couple of times without response.

“I guess Brendan is the more coordinated of your two boys,” the photographer noted. “Noah probably doesn’t want to try because he knows he couldn’t touch it as many time as Brendan did.”

“That’th not twue,” I said around my pacifier.

“Ah,” the photographer answered with obvious skepticism.

I got even madder. I started concentrating on the stupid butterfly and in rapid succession I had touched it several times.

“See?” I said triumphantly.

“OK, but I bet you were just lucky,” the photographer answered.

I redoubled my efforts and touched it at least a half-dozen more time than Brendan had. I smiled in triumph with each success.

“OK,” I think we got quite a few good shots,” the photographer announced.

It suddenly hit me that I had completely fallen into the trap. I reddened in embarrassment. Mom was standing next to Brendan when I got up. Dad came out of the dressing room; he was dressed casually in grey slacks and a Hawaiian shirt.

“Why don’t you take your individual shots while I get the boys dressed?” he suggested.

Mom agreed. He took off our Christmas baby pants and handed us our blue baby pants covered with baby rattles. Our outfits consisted of long sleeve sailor shirts, short shorts, and our knee socks and black shoes. All in all, we liked them. When Mom was done, dad took her place. A few minutes later it was our turn again. The first pose was of the two of us standing side by side. Then, the camera was lowered again and the two of us were positioned next to each other, sitting Indian style. I didn’t like this at all. I was sure that the baby rattles would be easily discernible in the pictures. Things became even more embarrassing when a series was taken showing us at play with a wooden train.

______

Our treatment in school continued in the same vein. No one would talk to us except for Brendan’s friends, Anthony and Dennis. The fact that I was now hanging around with “little kids” made things even worse for me. Jon and Jake didn’t relent either. Every new piece of clothing in our wardrobe played into their hands. We had gotten more baby shirts and overalls—the worst being red overalls that sported embroidered baby lambs on the bib.

Unbelievably, things worsened the final day before Christmas vacation. I first sensed trouble as Jon and Jake passed around something folded in half. Everyone who saw it laughed, especially after looking inside. The sideways glances and smirks convinced me that it had something to do with us. I wondered if he had printed the web page from which mom and dad ordered our clothes.

“Merry Christmas, baby Noah,” several kids said sarcastically.

I wanted to see what they were passing around but I dreaded it at the same time. Finally, when everyone else had seen it, Jon handed it to me. It was our family Christmas card! The picture on the front showed the pose where mom and dad were seated, and Brendan was on dad’s lap and mom had her arm around my waist. Our gold rompers looked incredibly shiny. I wished that we hadn’t been smiling. I opened the card and nearly fainted. There were the individual pictures of us wearing diapers with the Santa Claus and reindeer baby pants… and pacifiers! I was speechless, my brain on overload. As I regained my composure, I became furious—and not just at Jon and Jake but at mom and dad, too. How could they do this to Brendan and me? I hated them!

“Is baby going to cry? Too bad he doesn’t have his pacifier,” Jon said, snatching the card away.

Something snapped inside my head and I lunged at him. He fell down and I was on top of him, punching him in the face, the arms, the torso… anywhere and everywhere. He punched me back but I was out of control and didn’t feel a thing until someone jumped me from behind. It was Jake. I thought that I shook him off, but it was actually Brendan who had pulled him off. The two of them were now fighting as hard as Jon and me. Suddenly, someone big separated us. The vice-principal, Mr. Kelton, had Jon and me, and Mrs. Greenway, the principal, had Jake and Brendan. We were hauled off to the office and told to sit in the waiting room. The four of us glared at each other. A few minutes later, Mrs. Greenway came back and led us to her office.

“I’ve called your parents and they’ll be here in just a bit. For now, I want you to tell me what that was all about.”

We sat in total silence, the four of us glaring at her. She sighed and rose from behind the desk. She left the office for about a minute. Nobody said a word—it was understood that whoever talked first was a weakling.

“So, this was over a Christmas card?” she said as she sat down at her desk again.

I guess Jon had dropped it when I jumped him. I felt myself blush and get angry again.

“Well?” Mrs. Greenway suddenly said in a loud voice.

I think that all of us jumped a little bit.

“Jon? Jake? Whose idea was it to bring this card to school?”

“A lot of people got those. Who says we’re the ones who brought it?” Jake answered.

She gave him a withering look.

“Well, for one thing, the note on the inside is written to your parents... Bill and Katherine.”

I think she was madder at Jon and Jake than at Brendan and me since she spent most of her time yelling at them, although she emphasized that I was in big trouble for throwing the first punch. Our moms showed up and we all got yelled at again. Brendan and I knew that we were in especially big trouble when she wouldn’t let us talk to her or to each other. We were put into isolation in our respective bedrooms as soon as we got home. We weren’t even allowed out when mom served us lunch. Dad got home at his usual time, but we didn’t see him until we were told to come to the table for dinner. Mom and dad talked about stuff while we were still under the ban of silence.

“OK, boys. Go with daddy,” mom said right after dinner. “He’ll give you your baths.”

There was no joy in this usually fun activity. Dad kept us on task and made no attempt to play with us. We were told to go down to the den with our towels still wrapped around us.

“I can’t tell you how disappointed I am that you guys had a fight,” dad said.

“But he was showing…” Brendan started to explain.

Dad silenced him with a glare the like of which I had never before seen. He and I simultaneously realized that we were in a lot more trouble than we had suspected.

“Fighting is totally unacceptable and you know it!” he barked.

“Yes, sir,” we answered.

“So… the punishment has to be extreme. Noah, come here.”

I approached fearfully. He unwrapped the towel and pulled me to him. I knew what he was going to do, so I fought against him even though it was hopeless. He forced me onto his lap and began spanking me. The first few swats were more humiliating than painful. However, by around number fifteen I began to whimper and then to cry full out. Dad stopped abruptly and told me to stand by the couch. Brendan got the same treatment and, like me, cracked after fifteen or so swats. What happened next really caught us off guard. Mom took dad’s place and administered a second spanking. Her arm was a lot more powerful than we had expected. Brendan and I continued crying uncontrollably during our diapering and well after we had been tucked into bed. I really wanted to sneak out of my room to talk to him but I was scared of getting caught. I slept fitfully, waking up every time I rolled onto my bottom. The next morning, mom got us out of bed after dad had gone to work. We were both cranky from lack of sleep. After a quiet breakfast, she brought us to our rooms to change our diapers. We were put back into double night diapers and dressed in our matching baby sheep and crescent moon sleepers.

“I don’t imagine that I have to tell you that you’re grounded for all of Christmas vacation.”

Brendan and I sighed. It was no surprise.

“And, misbehavior of any type will get you more spankings. Understood?”

We nodded our heads.

“Good. The usual rules apply. No TV, DVDs, iPods, or games—computer or otherwise. You will stay in your rooms this morning and write apologies to Jon and Jake and to dad and me. I want to check them after you’re finished. Here… take your pacifiers… and they don’t come out of your mouths until I tell you. However, if you get thirsty, you can ask for a bottle of juice.”

We went to our rooms and started on the task. I assumed that everyone was supposed to get an individual letter so I wrote four. After I finished, I went downstairs to have mom read and approve them.

“Alright,” she said, “these will do. I’ll start the ball rolling by accepting your apology. Give me a hug.”

She squeezed me tightly and gave me a couple of swats on my diapered bottom. I flinched and grunted around my pacifier.

“Sorry, honey,” she said. “I didn’t do that on purpose. I hope you’ve learned your lesson about fighting.”

“Yeth,” I lisped, since she hadn’t said that I could take out my pacifier.

Brendan came downstairs. Mom read his letters, accepted his apology, and hugged him without swatting him on the bottom. She gave him the same speech about hoping that he had learned his lesson. He lisped just like I had.

“OK, you can go back upstairs together. You can talk to each other but that’s all. I don’t want to hear you playing games of any kind and I especially don’t want to hear you arguing or fighting.”

We went to Brendan’s room because there was more floor space for us to lie on our stomachs.

“Man,” he said, “I never expected to get spanked twice.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Mom and dad have never been that mad before.”

Brendan yawned, which caused me to yawn, too.

“I didn’t sleep much,” he said.

“Me neither,” I agreed. “My butt still hurts!”

“Mine, too!”

He pulled the pillow off his bed. We shared it and quickly fell asleep. When mom woke us at lunchtime I felt a whole lot better, but my bottom was still very sore. We were fed cut up hot dogs and potato chips with a bottle of warm milk. Part of our punishment was that there was no dessert. We were sent back upstairs while mom cleaned up in the kitchen.

“OK,” she said, coming into Brendan’s room. “Put on your shoes and a warm jacket. We’re going to deliver your apologies to Jon and Jake.”

“What do you want us to wear?” I asked.

“You’re already dressed. Put on your shoes, get your jackets, and meet me downstairs.”

I couldn’t believe that we were going to be forced to visit Jon and Jake in our most babyish sleepers and double diapers, which I had already wet a couple of times.

“Can’t…” I started to say.

“Not another word,” mom snapped, “or you get another spanking from me and from dad!”

Tears filled my eyes and I began to cry. In response, mom shoved a pacifier into my mouth. I went off to my room, frustrated and terrified, not only of the threatened spankings but also of Jon and Jake’s reaction to the way we were dressed. I cursed mom silently as I put on my shoes and jacket. I stopped in the bathroom to splash water on my face before going downstairs. It was probably too late, but I didn’t want them to know that I had been crying. The last indignity was mom making us wear our knit baby hats that tied under our chins.

******

I peed my diaper again as we waited for someone to answer the door at Jon and Jake’s house. My diaper was getting really heavy and I prayed that mom wouldn’t notice. I would really be dead if Jon and Jake witnessed me getting changed! Mrs. Martin answered the door and made a big fuss over us. Mom had us take off our hats, coats, and shoes.

“What cute little sleepers! They’re darling in their matching outfits!” Jon and Jake’s mother exclaimed.

Brendan and I slumped lower. We had never been so embarrassed. Mom handed us our written apologies.

“Jon! Jake!” Mrs. Martin called, “Noah and Brendan are here. Come down right now!”

“Do we have to?” Jon called back.

“Don’t make me go up there!” she threatened. “Do you want more of the same as last night? Get a move on!”

They came into the living room dressed in their pajamas. My mouth dropped open when I realized that I could hear the crinkling of disposable diapers. Their pajama pants bulged in confirmation. Brendan and I looked at each other in amazement.

“The four of you sit on the couch and exchange letters of apology.”

I would have snickered at the loud noises their diapers made, but Mrs. Martin’s stern voice and mom’s glare put an end to that thought. We all sat down gingerly. Jon and Jake’s letters read pretty much like the letters I had written. We finished reading and waited for our moms.

“Shake hands,” mom said.

I thought it would be kind of awkward but Jon and Jake looked and sounded sincere.

“Good,” Mrs. Martin said. “Diaper check time,” she said.

Jon and Jake got red in the face and looked as if they were going to refuse.

“One second more of that look and the diapers come off and the spankings start again!” their mom warned.

“You guys, too,” our mom said. “Come here.”

She unzipped our sleepers and checked us.

“You’re fine for now, Brendan; but you, Noah, come with me,” she said.

“We can use the boys’ bedroom,” Mrs. Martin said. “Jon needs a change, too.”

“Alright,” mom agreed. “Oh, by the way, I brought the baby pants you asked for.”

“Wonderful! In that case, Jake, come with us. I may as well put yours on at the same time.”

This was great. Jon and Jake were being neutralized as a threat against us. In fact, it was Brendan and me who now had the upper hand. We went back to the living room and mom announced that she was leaving us there for a couple of hours.

“… And when I come back I had better not hear that you’ve been fighting or uncooperative! Understood?”

******

Even though we had more or less made up, things were still awkward. Jon and Jake looked absolutely humiliated. Brendan and I were used to our diapers, but our matching sleepers were nonetheless a source of embarrassment.

“Are you guys grounded all vacation, too?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Jon answered.

Another awkward silence ensued.

“Can I ask something?” Jake wondered.

“What?” Brendan and I answered together.

“Are the diapers you’re wearing the ones you wear to school?”

“No,” I answered. “These are our nighttime diapers. Our daytime diapers aren’t nearly as thick. Why?”

Jon and Jake colored in embarrassment.

“Well,” Jake stammered. “It’s like… well, we’re…”

“What’s he’s trying to say,” Jon interrupted, “is that our mom and dad are going to make us wear exactly the same stuff as you guys, including at school.”

“Diapers and baby pants?” Brendan asked in a surprised voice.

“Yeah,” Jon confirmed. “And overalls and all the rest of the stuff.”

I wondered to myself if this was good news or not. More kids in diapers and baby pants probably meant more taunting and teasing.

“When do you get your new stuff?” Brendan asked.

“Don’t know. Mom says that we’ll definitely have enough baby clothes by Christmas Day to go to our grandma and grandpa’s house,” Jon answered dejectedly.

There was another extended silence. Should I tell them that the gold rompers we wore in the family Christmas card picture were what Brendan and I had worn on Thanksgiving Day, and which I assumed we’d wear again on Christmas?

“Did your mom tell you what you’re going to wear on Christmas?”

“No. Overalls and baby shirts, I guess,” Jake answered.

Brendan and I looked at each other. He nodded his head slightly.

“We have to tell you something… and we might be completely wrong,” I began. “You know those rompers we were wearing in the Christmas card picture? Well, those are what we wore to our grandma and grandpa’s on Thanksgiving.”

Jon and Jake looked stunned.

“But you don’t know for sure that you’re wearing them again, do you?”

“No,” I admitted. “But they’re the only fancy clothes we have.”

Jake left the room hurriedly.

“Mom!” he called. “I’ve got to ask you something.”

She told him to stop shouting and we didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. The expression on his face when he returned said it all.

“You guys are getting new rompers for Christmas… and so are we. Your aunt has finished yours, and she’s making ours now.”

“Did she say what they look like?” Brendan asked.

“No. She says that they want us to be surprised.”

We sighed in unison: one more thing to worry about.

******

The next day Jon and Jake came to our house. Some of their new stuff had arrived. They wore matching sleepers (yellow with brown, blue, and green teddy bears) and, by the look of the bulge and the sound of the rustling underneath, cloth diapers and baby pants. Jon confirmed this as soon as we were alone.

“Do you guys really wear two of these diapers to bed?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because they’re huge!” he answered in exasperation.

“You’ll get used to them,” I answered.

“I don’t want to!” he retorted.

Since his parents were forcing him to, I didn’t see any reason to respond. The rest of the day went well. We were practically back to our old selves, except for Brendan, that is.

“Mom,” he asked at dinner, “can Dennis and Anthony come over tomorrow?”

“You’re grounded,” she reminded him.

“I know, but Noah gets to see Jon and Jake.”

“They’re being punished, too,” dad pointed out. “You’re spending the days together so that mom and Mrs. Martin get a break from watching you.”

“But they’re still his friends! It’s not fair,” he pouted.

The next day, when Jon and Jake came over, we were dressed in daytime diapers, onesies and overalls, and so were they.

“At least we’re not wearing our sleepers and nighttime diapers all day,” I answered Jon who had been complaining about his baby clothes. “Maybe we can go outside and play for a while.”

“Not today,” mom answered. “We’ve got Christmas shopping to do.”

This upset Jon and Jake who didn’t want to be seen at the mall in their baby clothes, but there was nothing to be done about it. We were there for barely fifteen minutes when Matt and Rafi from school spotted us. Of course, it wasn’t Brendan and me they focused on; but rather, Jon and Jake. They may not have agreed, but I thought that they were lucky that my mom was right there, too. I’m sure it would have been much worse if we had been alone. In fact, all they said was, “Hi, guys,” and then disappeared. However, the smirks that accompanied those two words were devastating.

“They’re going to tell everybody!” Jon wailed.

Brendan and I remained silent. What was there to say? I felt sorry for them, even though part of me was still mad about their passing around our family Christmas card.

******

Brendan and I had lots of fun on Christmas morning. We had been afraid that our parents would continue punishing us for fighting, maybe by not giving us any cool gifts. That didn’t happen. In fact, I think we got more presents than in recent years, with most of them being baby or pre-school oriented. This not only included games, but clothes, too. We were disappointed when we had to take our baths in preparation for going to grandma and grandpa’s house. We knew about the rompers that were coming, and after our experience at Thanksgiving, knew that we could survive. Our cousin Amy was certain to be a pain, but probably not Artie and Bobby, assuming that they had gotten punished at home for what they had done to us. We were dressed in matching Christmas-themed baby pants, knee socks, black shoes, and bathrobe just like at Thanksgiving. We went down to the Christmas tree and set up the wooden train and track set that we had gotten.

“OK, time to finish dressing you,” mom said as she entered the den.

“Wow!” I commented. “You really look nice!”

“Well, thank you!” she said, bending over to give me a kiss. “Let’s go back upstairs.”

She brought us to the master bedroom where dad was just putting on his suit jacket. Our rompers were laying on the bed. Boy, were they ever babyish! They were two-toned: the “shirt” was white with red stitching, and the “pants” were red. The shirt part was heavily smocked. One of the rompers had Santa Claus and reindeer embroidery and the other featured snowflakes. At least the material wasn’t shiny. Mom took care of Brendan first; he got the snowflakes. Dad took care of me.

“How come you’re all dressed up?” I asked.

“We’re starting something new today,” he explained. “It’s a lot of work for grandma to cook a big dinner, so we’re going out to eat. We have reservations at the Hotel Quincy.”

“But we always eat at grandma’s!” I protested.

“We’ll still spend most of the day there. We’ll only leave to go eat.”

“I don’t want to go out to eat!” I grumbled.

A pacifier suddenly found its way into my mouth.

“Fifteen minutes,” mom said. “And no more whining!”

I looked at myself in the mirror as dad tied the narrow sash that held the waist in. Tears started forming in my eyes. Eating in a restaurant was going to be as bad or worse than going to the mall to get our pictures taken. We wore the same coats, mittens, and baby knit hats as on Thanksgiving Day. Brendan also had a pacifier. I guess he had figured out that they hid our faces pretty well… or maybe he just felt like having one. We were the first to arrive. We ran to the Christmas tree to see how many presents we were getting. Auntie Lynn and Amy arrived next. Amy had seen our rompers when her mom was making them, but she still made a big fuss. Luckily, she was distracted by the arrival of auntie Anna and uncle Glenn with Artie and Bobby. We decided to stay in the den and delay our exposure to our cousins for as long as possible. However, dad came to get to get us and insisted that we greet everyone. One look told me that Bobby and Artie were nervous.

“Well, go ahead,” uncle Glenn prompted them. “Now is as good a time as any.”

“I’m sorry that I was mean to you at Thanksgiving,” Artie apologized.

“Me, too,” Bobby added.

They stuck their hands out and we shook.

“You boys run along into the den. The rest of us will be there in a couple of minutes to start opening presents.”

I think we were all happy that Amy wasn’t included. We went to the tree and looked for Artie and Bobby’s presents. At one point, Bobby bumped into me and nearly knocked me over.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he said in a panicky voice. “It was an accident!”

“That’s OK,” I said calmly. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is,” Bobby corrected me.

“Huh?” Brendan and I said together.

“My dad says that if Artie or me do anything to you guys, we’re getting put into diapers, too! There’s a whole package of disposables in the car!”

Brendan and I were shocked.

“You won’t do anything to get us into trouble, will you?” Artie asked in a shaky voice.

“Not if you leave us alone.” I countered.

“Deal,” he said and we shook hands again.

Brendan and I received more baby clothes from our grandparents. In fact, we each got several baby-colored rompers that mom said she was looking forward to seeing us wear as soon as the weather warmed up. I hoped that she didn’t mean wearing them to school.

******

Since there weren’t many restaurants open on Christmas Day, the hotel dining room was quite full. Many tables had kids our age or younger. We didn’t know any of them, but it was still embarrassing. We sat down as quickly as possible and covered our laps with cloth napkins, which did little to hide that we were dressed like babies. The dinner took a long time; by the end our diapers were thoroughly soaked. Brendan asked to be changed.

“How about you, Noah? Are you ready to get your diapers changed, too?” mom asked in a voice loud enough to be heard by other tables.

We had to cross the hotel lobby to get to the bathrooms. I never looked up to see how many people were watching; just hearing their whispers and snickers was enough. The ladies in the bathroom treated us like babies, cooing and talking baby talk as we waited for a stall to open up. Despite our distress, Brendan and I had the presence of mind to poop our diapers there so that it wouldn’t happen in front of our cousins at grandma’s house. Thank goodness we were too big to use the fold down diaper changing station!

Back at grandma and grandpa’s, grandma kept Amy busy and entertained. Artie, Bobby, Brendan and I went to the den. Brendan brought up the subject of Jon and Jake, the fight we had had, their punishment, and our grounding together for the rest of Christmas vacation.

“Are Jon and Jake going to have to wear diapers to school, too?”

“That’s what they said,” I answered.

“At least they can’t pick on you any more,” Artie pointed out.

“Yeah,” I agreed hesitantly, “ but I don’t think it’ll matter. There are lots of other kids who’ll want to take over for them.”

“How bad a fight did you guys have?” Artie wondered.

We were sitting on the floor, so I decided to give him a realistic recreation. I lunged and caught him by surprise. He started to laugh and so did I.

“After I knocked him down, we were on the floor sort of like this and I started hitting him in the face, and the chest.”

Artie recovered from my sneak attack, and started defending himself and throwing his own fake punches.

“Then, I felt Jake jump on my back.”

Bobby obliged and started trying to get me off of Artie. Just like in the real fight, Brendan came to my rescue. We were having a great time reenacting the fight when something went wrong.

“Hey, watch it!” Brendan exclaimed.

I turned around to see Brendan falling backwards toward the tree. Bobby was standing frozen, staring at the impending disaster.

“Catch him!” I exclaimed in turn.

Artie must have also noticed what was about to happen. He got up so quickly that I was thrown halfway across the room and banged my head on edge of the coffee table. I saw the same stars as on Thanksgiving Day. Bobby finally reacted and grabbed Brendan before he fell completely. At the same time, I heard a ripping sound. Dad and uncle Glenn arrived first, followed closely by the rest of the family.

“Didn’t I warn you guys?” uncle Glenn roared.

We were all too stunned to react. Artie and Bobby’s hesitation was taken as an admission of guilt.

“No! Wait!” I started to say, but the pain in my head made me stop.

Grandpa was already examining the rising bump and grandma went to get ice. This time I didn’t have to fake the pain when he gingerly touched the spot. He helped me get up and sat me on the couch. The Christmas tree hadn’t been touched, but Brendan’s outfit was a mess. Apparently, Bobby had grabbed only the material of the romper causing it to rip along a seam. Brendan was trying to hold it together so that it wouldn’t look so bad.

“We weren’t doing anything…” Brendan started to say.

“Two fights in one month!” dad shouted. “Don’t make it worse by lying.”

Artie and Bobby looked terrified. They obviously hadn’t forgotten about the package of disposable diapers in the car.

“Noah jumped me first,” Artie said in his defense.

Mom and dad’s eyes zeroed in on me. I could feel my bottom heating up already.

“I was only pretending…” I answered.

Dad’s snort and the rolling of mom’s eyes told me that I had missed the mark by a mile. Grandma arrived with the ice. Auntie Lyn examined Brendan’s romper and declared that no real damage had been done—she could fix it in just a couple of minutes. Brendan turned five shades of scarlet as she undressed him in front of everybody. She went with grandma to the sewing room. At the same time, uncle Glenn announced that he was going out to the car for the diapers. Artie and Bobby lost it and began crying and begging for him to stop. This made no difference, of course. Their mom dragged them to the guest room. Amy was taking it all in. I wished that I could have wiped that smirk off her face.

“Come along,” grandpa said to her. “I think we ought to go to the living room.”

We weren’t allowed to get a word in edgewise as mom and dad lambasted us. By the end of it, one thing was clear—the first spankings we had gotten were going to seem pale in comparison to what was coming. During it all, we could hear Artie and Bobby pleading with their parents to listen to their story. They got no further than we did. Mom and dad were winding down when uncle Glenn appeared at the door. After a whispered conversation, mom removed a couple of boxes from under the tree and handed them to him. Mom and dad left with instructions for us to sit quietly.

“This is so unfair! Nobody did anything wrong,” Bendan grumbled.

I agreed with a sigh. The ice seemed to be losing it affect; my head was really beginning to hurt.

“Here we are!” auntie Lynne said brightly. “All fixed.”

Didn’t she understand that her cheery tone was annoying? However, neither of us pointed that out as she helped Brendan back into his romper. Besides, we were distracted by the approaching sound of crinkling disposables. Brendan and I gasped audibly as Artie and Bobby entered the den.

“Don’t you guys look sweet!” auntie Lynne cooed.

Once again, she was completely oblivious to the effect of her words. If looks could kill, she would have been dead meat. Artie and Bobby glared at us next. I didn’t blame them. They were dressed in white knee socks and the new springtime baby rompers that grandpa and grandma had given us.

“Sorry,” Brendan apologized. “I didn’t mean to trip and fall.”

“Just shut up!” Artie hissed.

“Are you going to start the fight again?” uncle Glenn asked as he entered the room.

“No,” Artie answered in a contrite-sounding tone. (I knew he didn’t mean it. I wondered if uncle Glenn did, too.)

“Good. It seems to me you have more important things to take care of—like apologizing and shaking hands.”

He left us alone and we stared at each other

“I guess it’s all my fault,” Brendan said.

“No, I started it,” I admitted. “I shouldn’t have jumped on Artie.”

“Then go out there and tell my mom and dad,” Artie answered bitterly.

“OK, I’ll try.”

It didn’t do any good for Artie and Bobby and it probably made things worse for me. It only confirmed what mom and dad already suspected. I returned nervously to the den.

“We heard,” Bobby said. “Thanks for trying.”

“OK,” I answered.

Artie was still in no mood to forgive me; he sat on the couch staring at his shoes. Suddenly, he burst out crying.

“They’re going to make us wear diapers and baby pants exactly like yours until at least next Christmas!” he wailed.

I looked over to Bobby. Tears had begun streaming down his cheeks, too. He nodded in confirmation. Holy crap! They were really going to hate us now—me in particular, I guessed.

“A whole year!” Brendan squeaked in surprise.

“Uh huh,” Bobby answered in a choked voice. “And, we’re stopping by your house on the way home to pick up cloth diapers, baby pants, and other stuff to wear until our own stuff comes.”

My head started hurting even worse. I sat down in order to put the ice pack on again. However, before I could get it into place, Artie leaned over and started punching me for real. I didn’t do anything to defend myself. He stopped after nine or ten hits. Brendan and I remained silent while Bobby and Artie’s sobs turned into sniffles. Neither he nor I knew what to say.

“Here,” Artie said, handing me the ice pack I had dropped. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“Kind of,” I answered cautiously. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry I punched you just now.”

“It’s OK. I guess I had it coming.”

Another uncomfortable silence followed.

“OK, you guys. Time to leave,” we were told.

Artie and Bobby began crying again at our house as they left holding the supply of diapers, baby pants, and baby clothes that we were lending them. I felt like crying, too. Even since I saw them walk into the den at grandma’s, I knew we were going to get killed when we wore the springtime rompers to school.

******

Our spankings got delayed for two days because my head still hurt the day after Christmas, but they turned out just as bad as mom and dad had said they would. I can guarantee that Brendan and I will never, ever fight again—not even a fake one. Mom took pity on us and started applying soothing cream to our bottoms the day after. Still, it was hard to sit down for the rest of the week.

We saw our cousins again on New Year’s Day. The whole day before, I was sick with worry that mom and dad would dress us like New Year’s babies in just diapers and baby pants. However, they didn’t. In fact, we felt almost grown up in the sailor shirts and short pants that we had first worn for the family pictures. Artie and Bobby were dressed the same as us and seemed just as cautious when they sat down. Amy tried to stir up trouble, making comments every time she saw our baby pants, but she failed. Auntie Lynne gave her a timeout and she settled down and stayed away from us. Obviously, Artie and Bobby are scared to death about school. When they asked us about it, Brendan and I tried to be as gentle as possible, but a lot depended on the kids they went to school with. The one thing we could say for sure was that, no matter how bad it got, it would be a disaster if they cried in front of their friends or got into a fight.

One interesting thing that Brendan and I noticed was that they didn’t seem at all shy about peeing and pooping their diapers. I got the feeling that they might even be starting to like it. I can’t wait to see them again in the spring. Wouldn’t it be great if Brendan and I found two new playmates who understood us?

 

 

The End