Do Wishes Come True?

By: Ron564339

E-mail: [email protected]

 

Part 1

 

                Do you know what it’s like when you completely forget about something in your life, but then one day something happens to trigger that memory, and then you can remember it like it was yesterday?

                If not, well, it happened to me. I was talking to my best friend, and after talking to him, I remembered one particular weekend from my early childhood. It had happened, but it had been so long I could have never thought it up again on my own. But something my friend said, triggered this memory, and from there, the memories kept flooding back into my brain. It felt like I had found this secret compartment in my brain and it was filled with distinct, crystal clear images. And now, I can remember so many things about that weekend that I thought I had forgotten forever. And it was quite an interesting experience.

                I was seven years old when it happened (I was about 20 when my friend triggered the memory, so I was jumping back 13 years). I lived with both of my parents in a quiet little neighborhood. My little brother, Alex, was also about one year old at the time.

                It was summer, and I remember that I used to attend various day camps over the summers at that age. I used to have a lot of fun at them, but at the same time they really wore me out, so I just liked to do nothing on the weekends.

                On this particular Friday afternoon, I was especially tired and just wanted to watch TV after I got home. My mom was a stay-at-home mom, so she was there to take care of me and my brother. My dad worked full time (and often pretty late into the evenings), so he wasn’t home yet. After my mom picked me up from camp, we went straight home.

                While my mom went to go put Alex down for his nap, I threw myself onto the couch, flipped on the TV, and began to watch cartoons. I had probably watched for about ten minutes when my mom said, “Ok, Robbie, get ready to get dressed, it’ll be time for the dinner soon.”

                “What?” I asked.

                “Don’t you remember? I told you a week ago that your father is having this big dinner with some of his friends from work, and he wants you and me to be there.”

                “What about Alex? Aren’t we taking him?”

                “Well, your father would like for his friends to see Alex too, but it’ll be too much trouble to keep an eye on him and have everything run smoothly, so we decided we’d just ask Mrs. Johnson to come over here and take care of him for the evening. Now enough talk, we need to get you ready.”

                I was so angry. I couldn’t see how it was fair that I had to get dressed up to go to this stupid dinner and Alex didn’t, even though he was just a baby.

                The rest of the evening was horrible. I had to wear a shirt and tie (which I completely loathed at that age), I had to deal with dad’s friends the whole night, who made really annoying comments to me about how handsome I was and things like that, and they all asked the same questions over and over again (“How old are you?” “What grade are you in?”). Plus it felt like they were always talking to me like I was three years old instead of seven. The food was disgusting, and within five minutes I was bored out of my mind. I spent the whole night wishing I was at home, playing with my toys and watching TV.

                And then, as soon as we got home, mom made me take a bath and go right to bed! One whole Friday afternoon, wasted!

                That Saturday was even worse, if that was possible. I had to get up early to go take swimming lessons, which was a horrible experience (I thought they were worthless at the time, and I’m sure I made it even worse than it had to be since I was being difficult). Right after I got home, I wanted to go to a friend’s house, but my dad made me help him with some yard work instead, which took hours (I know I was only seven, but my dad found jobs that I could do, and he always insisted that I was a big help). When that was over, my mom made me go play outside, since she said that she wanted the house to be quiet. Because I was already hot from being outside all morning, the last thing I wanted to do was spend more time outside in the sun, especially since I couldn’t invite any of my friends over. When I was finally allowed to come back in, my parents said they were going out to dinner.

                This meant that our babysitter, Kathy, was going to take care of us. I never did like Kathy, mainly because she thought I was a little brat and therefore wasn’t very nice to me (I could be a brat sometimes, but I still thought she was too strict towards me). But she loved Alex, so she was always doing nice things for him that she did not do for me.

                About half an hour after Kathy arrived, I just went up to my room and lay down on my bed (she didn’t seem to care, since she wouldn’t have to deal with me). I was extremely mad. Life just wasn’t fair. I just couldn’t help but think how much I hated having to do all of these things. It was too much responsibility, and my weekend had just been wasted since I just wanted to be able to do what I wanted the whole weekend.

                I realized that up to this point in my life, I never really did like Alex. I mean, I kind of liked the idea of having a little brother at first, and I was even excited about it. And for the first few months it was kind of neat.

                But that definitely didn’t last. I soon realized that having a little baby brother wasn’t much fun at all. Ever since he was born, it seemed like he got everything. Mom and dad were always getting him new toys. Everyone was always so excited to see him, “to see the baby”. He was always getting a lot more attention than me.

                And what did he ever do? He just lay there making stupid baby noises. All he did was sleep, cry, drool, and eventually started to crawl. And to make things worse, I even had to help take care of him some. Again, at first this was kind of fun. It was neat to hold him, or to feed him a baby bottle. But soon that got old, and it was just a pain.

                And if that wasn’t bad enough, a few times mom showed me how to change his diaper, and she even made me do it a few times (like I needed some other chore to do anyway!). It was so disgusting, and he just got to lie there and giggle while I had to deal with his stinky diaper.

                Now that I really started thinking about it, I realized that Alex always seemed to be getting treated better than me ALL of the time. HE didn’t have to go to that stupid dinner, just because he was a baby. HE didn’t have to take stupid swimming lessons. HE didn’t have to help dad with the yard work. HE didn’t have to go play outside when he didn’t want to; mom let him stay inside. Kathy wasn’t mean to HIM.

                I began to think about how lucky he was, and how nice it must have been to be a baby. He just got to do what he wanted all day, to play and sleep all of the time, with no responsibilities. And everybody still loved him so much, thinking he was all adorable and everything! On top of this, whenever he needed (or more particularly, wanted) something, he got it. If he was hungry, he just cried and someone was there to feed him. If he wanted to play, someone always took the time out to do it. He didn’t even have to get up to pee or poop! And to make all of this worse, I even had to help out to spoil him in his babyish state!

                It just wasn’t fair. Before he came along, I was mom and dad’s little boy, the one who they cared about and got all of the attention. Now all I got was stuff I didn’t want to do while Alex got fawned over like a puppy.

                Thinking about all of these things, I ended up just pouting in my room for the rest of the time Kathy was there. She came in once to check on me, and I was a rude to her since I was so mad. Thankfully, she didn’t punish me for it, but I knew she’d probably tell my parents that I had been bad.

                When my parents got home, Kathy told my parents basically that (which was unfair, but I should have known better than to snap at Kathy for no reason other than I was mad).

                After Kathy left, my dad said, “Robbie, how many times have we told you to be good for Kathy? It’s a lot of trouble to get her to take care of you two, and it would be easier if you tried harder to be good.”

                “But dad…” I began.

                “No buts. Tomorrow, I have a lot of work to catch up on, and I was going to let you have a friend over and we’d go and throw the ball around in the park. But after your behavior, I don’t think I will. Instead, you’re going to stay home and help your mother with cleaning up the house.”

                “That’s not fair!” I retorted.

                “Maybe next time you’ll think of that before you mouth off to Kathy,” he said. With that, he left.

                “Mom, can’t you do anything about this?” I asked.

                “Yes, but I’m not going to. Your father’s right, and besides, it’ll be good for you to get used to doing more work around here. You’re growing up by the day, and as you grow, so will your responsibilities.”

                “Well…” I began. “I want to stop growing!”

                “What?” asked my mom.

                All of my thoughts and feelings from earlier suddenly resurfaced in my head, and then came pouring out of my mouth.

                “I wish I could be like Alex!” I said. “He doesn’t have to do any of this! He doesn’t have to go to stupid dinners, or clean up the house, or do swimming lessons…”

                “Honey, that’s because he’s only a BABY…”

                “Yeah!” I said. “So I want to be like a baby again! No responsibilities!”

                “Oh, Robbie, stop being silly. Anyway, right now it’s your bedtime. So I want your teeth brushed, you face washed, and your buns in bed in five minutes.”

                With another grunt of anger, I stomped my way up to my room, not wanting any more chores being added on. After I brushed my teeth and washed my face, I put on my pajamas and walked into my bedroom.

                But before I got into bed, I walked over to the windowsill and looked out at the stars. As I did so, to my surprise I saw something I had only seen once before in my life…a shooting star. The first time I saw one, my dad told me that if you see a shooting star, you should make a wish, because it would come true. At the time, I couldn’t think of a good wish, so I just let it pass.

                But as soon as I saw it, I knew I had another chance to have a wish come true (hey, I was still at the age where I believed everything my parents said, so I didn’t doubt that this would happen for a second). And immediately, I knew what I wanted. I even said it out loud. I didn’t really have a clear belief in God or anything like that, but it still felt like I should say it out loud for it to come true, and I felt I should at least look at the sky.

                “Well,” I said, still looking out the window. “I saw a shooting star, so I get a wish, right? So for whoever’s listening out there…I wish…that for just ONE DAY…that’s all…for one day I could be treated just like Alex. I wish I could be treated just like a baby!”

                As the star faded, I let out a sigh. I was just about half and half; one part of me had a strong belief and hope that I would get my wish, and another part told me ‘Aw, that’ll never happen in a million years.’

                With that, I hopped into bed. A few minutes later, my mom walked in through the door, gave me a kiss on the forehead (which I admitted to myself I still liked, even though I tried to act like I didn’t), told me goodnight, and then turned out the light. Within minutes, I was fast asleep.

                As I woke up the next morning (it was Sunday, so I didn’t have to get up early), I remembered what had happened with Kathy, and how my dad said I had to help mom clean all day. Then, all of a sudden, I remembered seeing the shooting star, and then seeing my wish. I opened up my eyes and excited looked down at my body. I hoped that it would be really tiny and that my clothes would be too big for me, draped over me just like in the cartoons.

                But as soon as I did, I saw that this clearly wasn’t true. I was still in my seven-year old boy body, which was still in pajamas and lying down in my bed.

                “I should have known better,” I told myself. “That wish will never happen, even if I did see a shooting star.” I sighed as I got out of bed, and I got ready to walk downstairs and begin my day of work.

                But before I did, I suddenly got an idea. “Hey,” I told myself. “I may not BE a baby, but I can still ACT like one. And if I act like a baby, mom and dad can’t make me do any of the cleaning chores, right? Maybe I can even fool them into thinking my mind has turned into a baby’s mind, and they’ll give up on completely on trying to make me do them! ” Resolving to do just this, I smiled and dropped to my knees. “Babies crawl, right? So I guess that’s a good place to start.”

                Making my way down the stairs on my knees somehow, I eventually made my way into the kitchen, trying to look as babyish as possible. As I entered the kitchen, I saw that neither my dad nor Alex was there, but my mom was. I just gave her my best babyish grin (I thought back to the way Alex always smiled), and with nothing better to say, said, “Goo goo?”

                My mom just looked at me down on my knees, she said in huge surprise, “Robbie, what on earth are you doing?”

                ‘Oh well’ I thought. ‘So much for that plan’. I don’t think I really thought it would work, but a small part of me did.

                Before I could do anything else, mom ran over towards me, and to my surprise, she picked me up by the armpits, looked me straight in the eye, and said,

                “How on earth did you manage to get out of your crib?” She then smiled at me and said, “You little trouble maker, you! You always scare me to death! Well, it looks like you’re not hurt, and that’s a huge relief!”

                With that, she pressed me tightly up against her chest and gave me a hug. I’m sure this kept her from seeing my very shocked face. I couldn’t believe it. What was going on here? Could it be…

                She then held me up to her face again, still smiling. While I continued to look at her in surprise, she rubbed her nose up against mine (what we used to call an Eskimo kiss), and said, “Now that’s my sweet wittle boy!”

                I couldn’t help but smile…it actually felt pretty nice.

                Mom then said, “Well, looks like we had better get you cleaned up. I’ll give you a nice bath! How would you like that?”

                Something about the way she asked the question made me realize she didn’t really expect an answer. It was one of those questions someone asked their pet, or their…baby.

                As mom put me over her shoulder and began to carry me up the stairs, I just couldn’t believe what was happening. As I began to take it in, I realized that one of three things had happened (or some combination of them). Either A, my mom had gone totally bonkers, B, my wish had come true, or C, it hadn’t, but I had managed to actually fool mom into thinking I was a baby!

                I began to get really excited about this. I was finally going to get what I wanted. ‘But’ I thought to myself. ‘Just in case mom is treating me this way only because I’ve fooled her into thinking my mind was just like a baby’s, I better not blow it. I should keep acting like a baby so she won’t realize the truth’.

                Now I know may seem like a pretty stupid thing to think. But remember, I was only seven years old, I always did have a tendency to believe just about anything.

                Mom soon reached the top of the stairs and carried me down the hall to the bathroom that I used. She then laid me down on one of the bathroom mats.

                “Now you stay put,” she said gently as she lightly shook her finger at me. “I don’t want you escaping again while I’m not looking.”

                As she turned to go turn on the water faucet to the bathtub, I once again felt like she said this in a way that implied she really didn’t think I could understand her actual words, just her the intention of what she was saying. Nonetheless, I decided to lie there patiently and just watch her.

                After she tested the water temperature, she turned back towards me, still with a smile on her face. I couldn’t help but notice how much happier she seemed than when she normally spoke to me. She then took a hold of my pajama top and slid it up over my head and pulled my arms out of it. I continued to relax and let her do her work, telling myself that babies can’t take off their own clothes.

                Then, my mom began to giggle, and before I knew it she started to blow bubbles into my stomach. She laughed as she did so, and I couldn’t manage to hold in my own giggles. It did feel pretty funny, and it ticked a bit too. She continued to do it, and she also ran her fingers up and down my chest and stomach, very softly touching me. I continued to smile and laugh along with her as she did so. This was great! It seemed like forever since mom had played with me this way.

                A tiny part of me couldn’t help but feel a little funny, maybe even a tad bit embarrassed. But I quickly ignored it completely…it was way too much fun to get this attention and gentle treatment to let those small feelings mess it up.

                I was so distracted by the tickling and my own laughter that I didn’t even notice mom removing my pajama bottoms as well as my underwear. As soon as I realized that I was completely naked. I immediately covered my privates up. It actually hadn’t been very long since mom had last seen me naked, and I wasn’t really that embarrassed, but it still felt funny to me.

                Mom didn’t notice my reaction, because at the time she had turned to go put my clothes in the hamper next to the door. By the time she turned back around, I managed to relax, telling myself, ‘Babies are naked all the time, and they’re not embarrassed about it. Mom sees Alex naked all the time whenever she bathes him or changes his diaper. In fact, it hasn’t been that long since she saw me naked all of the time…’

                The tub was just about full by this time, so mom turned off the water and came back over to me. Still smiling, she lifted me up by the armpits again and said, “Okay, mister, in you go.” With that, she gently lowered my body into the water, careful to keep my head above it.

                As I felt my body submerge, I noticed that the water was JUST RIGHT. Mom always did manage to get the temperature perfect…dad would always make it too cold and I always made it too hot. The feeling of the water was fantastic, and I immediately felt very relaxed.

                I notice that there were a few bath toys floating around. I still typically played in the bath, and since mom had recently started bathing Alex in here too, I noticed a few of his toys as well.

                Mom then poured a little bit of bubble bath into the water, turned on the faucet to let them foam up a bit, and then took a toy tugboat and began making little boat noises, trying to get my attention. Realizing that babies do play with bath toys, I began to play along with her.

                Soon I let myself go, and I was splashing around happily with the toys and the bubble bath while mom lightly laughed. She then took a washcloth and some soap and began scrubbing my chest.

                My initial reaction was to resist, since I was used to scrubbing myself (or oftentimes, not scrubbing at all in the bath at that age). Also, mom always had a tendency to wipe my face or straighten my hair or do other little annoying things to clean me up out in public, so I never did like her to groom me in any way. But again, I caught myself, realizing mothers wash their babies, so I just let her do her thing (and secretly I told myself she did a much better job than I did).

                It was kind of bad when she did my privates, but other than that, I got used to it, and I didn’t have a problem with her washing my legs, back, arms, or even my butt. But as she took a pitcher full of water, she said, “Uh-oh, here comes the water fall!” She lightly poured the water over my head, and I closed my eyes and held my breathe just in time.

                She then took some baby shampoo and began massaging it into my hair, humming while she did so. I just continued to happily play in the tub, and once again I held my breath as she rinsed it out.

                “Ok, time to pull the plug!” she said. “I hope little Robbie doesn’t go down the drain, since he’s so tiny!”

                I managed to prevent myself from saying, “Mom, stop being silly.”

                After she pulled the plug, she lifted me out of the tub, stood me up, and wrapped me tightly in a towel (“to keep me from getting cold”, she said). After a little bit, she then took the towel and began to dry me off (which again, she always did way better than me). Once she was done, she used a hair dryer to get my hair completely dry.

                Once she did so, she scooped me up in her arms again, although this time she carried me more on her hip (she was able to carry me with total ease, since I was still pretty light). Out of instinct I expected her to carry me into my own bedroom, so I was a little surprised when she ended up carrying me into Alex’s nursery.

                I expected to see him asleep in his crib, but to my surprise he wasn’t there. This surprise was probably what kept me from realizing that mom had laid me down on his changing table…

 

Part 2

 

                I soon did notice this, however, and that combined with the fact that I heard mom rummaging around underneath saying, “Now where is that baby powder?” made me suddenly realize what should have been obvious all along…mom was going to put me back in diapers.

                I really hadn’t thought about this before, and that’s why I felt my heart beat faster and harder in my chest. I began to nervously breathe quickly, especially when I saw my mom appear at the foot of the changing table holding a canister of baby powder as well as a plastic, disposable baby diaper.

                I had of course seen diapers all of the time, what with being around Alex. But it had never occurred to me what it would be like to wear one. Now that was the only thought in my head, and my nervousness continued to grow and I felt my cheeks burning red as mom began to unfold the diaper, still smiling sweetly at me.

                She then grabbed my ankles and lifted my butt up off of the table, sliding the diaper underneath as I did so. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure I wanted to do this any more. I mean, I wanted no responsibilities and a lot of attention and all, but…diapers? I continued to feel the heat of embarrassment in my cheeks as I began to think that maybe being a baby wasn’t all fun and games. And the idea of my mom putting me in a diaper at this age was nothing short of the most humiliating thing in my life.

                I continued to feel these feelings as I felt mom shake some baby powder onto my butt. As she lowered me down the sweet smell of the powder hit my nose, and I really started to feel like I was in Alex’s place, since I only ever smelt that smell when mom was changing his diaper. Although I continued to blush and try to hide my shame, mom must not have noticed, because she just kept on going on, talking to me in the exact same way as she did to Alex when she changed him.

                “Oh my wittle Wobbie is so pwecious, yes he is!” she said sweetly as she sprinkled some more powder onto my privates. “And we don’t want him to get a diapee rash, now do we?”

                With that, she took the ends of the diaper, pulled it between my legs, and taped it snugly around my waist with ease. Still smiling, mom once again blew some bubbles into my stomach, and then looked at me and said, “There, now Wobbie’s all snuggy wuggy in his diapee!”

                I only managed to smile weakly as she kissed me on the cheek and began to look for something else. As she did so, I noticed the feeling of the diaper. It was soft, but also thick, and I clearly heard the plastic crinkle with every move I made. It felt very weird, but also strangely familiar, and to my surprise, actually kind of nice. It actually fit me pretty well, even though I was seven and it was a baby diaper.

                Once I started to get used to the feel of it, I told myself, ‘Hey, this isn’t so bad. And after all, if I’m gonna be a baby, I better get used to wearing diapers again.’ It was funny, now that I was over the initial embarrassment of it, I actually began to think that wearing a diaper wasn’t a bad thing (Hey, don’t doubt me until you try it some time…you’d be surprised how comfy they are).

                While I continued to lie there, mom appeared again, this time with a pair of socks and a shirt, both of which were mine. She soon put them on me, which wasn’t weird at all considering she had just diapered me. Still, it felt a little funny to be wearing my own socks and shirt along with a diaper (which I had assumed had to be Alex’s, although it’s not like he’d miss it, since he had never worn it).

                This was apparently enough clothes for mom, because she once again picked me up, carried me back downstairs, and then put me in Alex’s playpen in the living room (which wasn’t surprising, considering she had just diapered me). She left and went into the kitchen, and a few minutes later she came back, now with a baby bottle full of what I guessed to be milk in her hand.

                “Ok,” she said. “It’s time for Wobbie to get his ba-ba!” I let out a nervous gulp as I realized that mom was going to make me drink the baby bottle. I was realizing more and more that there was more to being a baby than I had initially thought about.

                Mom once again picked me up, and carried me over to the couch. She then cradled me in her arms, and before I knew it, she had inserted the nipple of the bottle into my mouth.

                You’d think I might have resisted, but the truth was that I didn’t really have time. She had been so quick that the bottle was already in my mouth, and it was the kind of bottle that mom only had to squeeze in order for what was inside to come out.

                I soon found myself swallowing the milk inside the bottle that mom was forcing into my mouth (I was relieved to find out that it was indeed milk, not baby formula, which mom had once let me taste, just because I had asked. It tasted horrible, and I think that’s why mom let me taste it that one time). I slightly struggled just to do overall surprise, but mom’s grip on me was firm (not really tight, or overly rough, just firm), and my head was pressed against her arm, so I couldn’t really move it easily. I guessed that this was the way mom fed Alex his bottle, in order to make sure she didn’t drop him.

                I next realized that it was much easier for me to control how fast I swallowed if I put my lips around the nipple and sucked it instead of just having mom squirt it into my mouth. Soon I was controlling the flow of milk into the bottle, while mom said, “Now that’s a good baby. Drink up the whole thing for mommy!”

                I had to admit that I felt really really stupid being fed a baby bottle by my mom. But on the other hand, it really wasn’t uncomfortable or even unpleasant. In fact, once I got used to it, I just closed my eyes, ignoring the fact that I was nursing from a bottle, and relaxed as I continued to drink the rest of the milk. It was actually kind of comfy, being held in mom’s arms while she softly rocked me back and forth. Besides, I knew that if I was going to continue to let mom think I was a baby, I would have to accept the idea of drinking from bottles again.

                After a little while, I found I was sucking on dry air, and I realized I had finished the bottle. Mom then said, “Good boy!” She then stood up, carried me back over to the playpen, and put me down in it.

                She then said, “Ok, mommy has work to do, so be a good baby and stay put in your playpen. Here, I’ll even turn on the TV.”

                She turned it on, found a channel with some cartoons, kissed me on the head again, and then went to go clean up the kitchen.

                I immediately liked that. I still loved watching cartoons, and one of my favorites, Looney Tunes, was on. Not only was it great watching the show, but I also began to play with some of the baby toys in the playpen. They were actually kind of fun, and although I never would have played with them in front of my friends or even my dad, I hardly felt embarrassed anymore (like I could feel any more embarrassed considering I had just been fed a baby bottle and was now wearing a diaper and watching cartoons in a playpen).

                Speaking of dad, I still wondered where he and Alex were. I remembered that he said he had some work to do, so I guessed that he had gone into the office. But he definitely wouldn’t have taken Alex with him. I just couldn’t help but think of this, especially since I was wearing one of Alex’s diapers and I was in his playpen.

                But I just let that thought drift away as I continued to watch the cartoons and play in the playpen. After what I had guessed was maybe an hour, I started to get hungry. Normally, whenever this happened, I just told mom, and she would make note of it and soon after fix me something to eat. But not only had mom told me to stay in the playpen, but I realized that if I spoke, she might realize that I wasn’t a baby. So what did I do? I decided I should just let out a loud, babyish cry. That’s what Alex always did when he was hungry, and someone would come rushing over.

                Again, I felt a little stupid, but I realized that this was the way babies communicated, so I’d have to get used to it. I tried to make it look and sound as real as possible, and I knew it would have to be loud enough to get her attention.

                It did the trick. Within seconds, mom came back into the room. I knew I had to keep it up even though she was there, because Alex never shut up until mom gave him whatever he wanted.

                Mom came over to the playpen with a mildly concerned look on her face and picked me up. As I continued to pinch up my face and howl, she said, “There there wittle Wobbie, what’sa matter?” and gently bounced me up and down. She took one of her fingers and put it into the thigh of my diaper, and then said, “Well, you’re not wet. So you must be hungry.”

                ‘Hey, she’s good,’ I thought. I continued to cry, although I wasn’t quite as loud now that I was in her arms. I was basically acting just like Alex did whenever I saw mom take care of him, so he was the example that I followed.

                Mom took me into the kitchen and put me in Alex’s high chair. She pulled the table in front of it down. She then went and messed around in the kitchen for a while. I guessed that she was fixing whatever it was that I was going to eat, but I couldn’t really see what she was making.

                I then realized that if I was a baby, I would have to eat BABY food. I had seen some of the glop that was in Alex’s baby food jars, so I was pretty nervous about this prospect.

                But, after a few minutes, mom was done, because she placed down a bowl filled with some orange and yellow stuff. She then tied something around my neck…I looked down and realized that it was a bib. Next, mom sat down in front of me, took a spoonful of the stuff, and pressed it towards my mouth.

                Hungry as I was, the stuff in the bowl didn’t look good at all, so I closed my mouth tightly right as the spoon was about to go in. This caused some of it to smear onto my mouth, and then some of it dribbled down onto my chin and the bib I was wearing.

                Mom sighed and said, “Come on now, Robbie, just try it, I know you’ll like it.” Even though I didn’t believe her, I thought that we weren’t going to get anywhere unless I cooperated, and I was still hungry, so I decided I might as well at least try it.

                As the next spoonful came in, I let mom push it into my mouth and then take it out. I tasted it and found out that I liked it! I realized that it was actually macaroni and cheese, and that it only looked funny because mom had mashed it up. As mom continued to feed me the warm, cheesy, goodness, I remembered that even though Alex did eat baby food a lot, sometimes mom would mash up normal food and feed it to him.

                I kept eating it until it was all gone, although by the time I was done, I could feel that there was quite a lot of it on my face…it was pretty hard eating with no hands, and I kept myself from using my hands because I knew that babies were spoon-fed. Mom wiped off my face with the bib, but she didn’t take it off yet.

                She left for a few minutes, and then came back with another bowl. I recognized what was in there immediately: chocolate pudding! Mom smiled and said, “Since you’ve been such a good baby this morning, mommy will let you have some pudding!” I greedily swallowed every spoonful as mom happily fed it to me (although I still made quite a mess on my face).

                Once we were done, mom once again wiped my face and then took off the bib. She then pulled me out of the high chair and said, “Ok, I think it’s time for someone to have his nap.”

                ‘Nap?” I asked myself. But once again, I remembered that babies had to have naps during the day. As I realized this, mom carried me up the stairs and back into Alex’s nursery (I noticed a clock on the way there and saw that it was a little bit past noon).

                Mom took me over to Alex’s crib and laid me down inside it. She then took the baby blanket that was inside and tucked my in (it was still big enough to cover my body). Finally, she took a pacifier and popped it in my mouth. She then smiled and said, “Nighty-night,” before turning out the light and closing the door. Once she did, I spit the pacifier out of my mouth.

                Even though I was a little tired, I didn’t really feel like a nap. But I knew that’s what mom expected babies to do, so I decided it was best to stay in the crib. It was then I noticed that the blanket covering me was not actually Alex’s, but my old baby blanket!

                I was overcome with a new joy. It was my blankie! Up until I was about five, I took this blanket with me just about everywhere I went. But my friends had started teasing me about it, so I told mom and dad that I was ready to get rid of it. But since I was going to be a baby now, I knew that it was ok for me to have it! I gleefully snuggled up with it, my face pressed lightly against it.

                I had also sucked my thumb until about the same age, but again, since my friends had made fun of me, I made myself quit. But now, I happily stuck my thumb in my mouth and began to suck in total bliss.

                I then saw the pacifier laying the crib. I said to myself, ‘Why not?’ and stuck in my mouth, replacing my thumb. I soon found out that it was even better! This was great!

                I closed my eyes and happily lay in the crib. As I did, I couldn’t get over how awesome this was. For the whole morning, I had gotten just what I wanted: I was treated just like a baby. And it was just as good as I thought it could be. True, I did feel kind of funny and a little stupid, especially when mom had diapered me, gave me the bottle, and when she spoon-fed me. But it had been wonderful; not only did I not have to help mom clean up the house, but she gave me a lot of love and attention, I got to play with toys and watch cartoons all morning, and she even gave me pudding just because I didn’t cause any trouble. And now I could suck a pacifier and cuddle with my blankie in the middle of the day! I was so happy, and I soon found myself drifting off to sleep peacefully while I embraced my happy thoughts.

 

Part 3

 

                I don’t know exactly how long I had slept, but when I awoke, I felt that same disorientation that you always feel when you just get up. At first I didn’t know why I had some kind of rubber gag in my mouth, why I was surrounded by bars, or why there was some thick padding on my butt. But then I remembered what had happened, and why I was sucking a pacifier, lying in a crib, and wearing a diaper.

                Before I took any other actions, I noticed something else…I had to pee. Now, of course, normally this wouldn’t have been an issue at all…I would have just gone to the bathroom to pee. But now I was in a crib, and in order to go to the bathroom, I’d first have to get out of the crib. But as soon as I stood up and started to jump out of it, I stopped myself and thought a bit (which was very uncharacteristic of me at that age…I normally just jumped into things without thinking. But given the events of the morning, let’s just say I wasn’t exactly myself). I remembered that there was a strong possibility that mom was only treating me like a baby because I was fooling her into thinking I basically was one. She left me in the crib, and babies normally weren’t able to just get out of their cribs if they wanted to (and they probably didn’t even think about it that much). I had managed to fool mom once, but I didn’t think she’d buy it again. That meant that if I was to jump out of the crib, I’d have to make it to the bathroom without mom seeing me, I’d have to take off my diaper, pee in the toilet, put my diaper back on myself, and then somehow climb back into the crib, all before mom checked the crib and realized I was gone.

                So there I was, left with a dilemma; either risk having to give up my baby treatment or hold my pee until I died. I really did have to pee, so I thought it was a worthy risk to take. So, with relative ease, I hopped out of the crib. There was no need to crawl since I didn’t want mom to see me anyway. So I quietly opened the door and checked to make sure mom wasn’t anywhere in the hall. She wasn’t, so I knew I could make my move to the bathroom down the hall.

                Being as quiet as I could, I snuck down the hall to the bathroom door. I didn’t hear mom downstairs, so I didn’t know for sure where she was. But I had come this far, so I went straight to the door and turned the knob. But to my surprise, the knob wouldn’t turn…it was locked!

                I suddenly realized that it must have meant that mom was inside using the bathroom! I knew that if this was true, she could come out any minute, and that I surely wouldn’t have time to make it to the downstairs bathroom. This was verified by the fact that I heard footsteps inside the bathroom. Mom was coming! Full of nervousness, I raced down the hall and back into the nursery.

                I quickly shut the door and ran over to the crib. I placed my feet on the outside edge of it and somehow managed to hop in without knocking it over. I pulled my blanket over me and stuck the pacifier back in my mouth right as the door swung open.

                Of course it was mom, and she immediately noticed that I was awake. Fortunately, this was okay, because she said, “That’s interesting…I could have sworn that I just saw this door close. But here you are, Robbie, all safe and sound, and I know YOU didn’t open the door…you’ve been asleep in your crib this whole time.”

                ‘Ha, that’s what you think,’ I said to myself as I caught my breath. Mom then walked over towards me, and once again she took her finger and put it in the thigh of my diaper.

                “Wow,” she said. “I’m surprised. I would have almost definitely expected you to be wet after your nap, but you’re still a dry little baby. Well, I know that’s it’s always just a matter of time before you need a change anyway, so it makes no difference to me.” (I noticed that mom was probably talking to herself more than she was to me, since she probably didn’t think I understood a word she said).

                Mom then left me alone in the crib again. I then realized what should have been obvious a long time ago…I could have just peed in my diaper! But now that I thought about this, I once again surprised myself…when I wanted to be a baby, I didn’t even think about how I would have to not only wear diapers, but actually use them!

                Now I said to myself, ‘Well, stupid, what do you think diapers are for?’ But I wasn’t looking forward to it…I mean, peeing in a diaper really would make me a baby, because they’re the only ones who do it. But then I remembered that I was in a crib, I had already drunk from a baby bottle, and I had just taken a nap. And I was wearing a DIAPER, after all.

                Besides, mom would get suspicious if I went too long with a dry diaper…Alex seemed to need a change every hour. So I just sighed to myself and said, ‘Well, I guess I don’t really have a choice.’ So I was now going to wet my first diaper since my toddler days.

                To my surprise, once I finally got up the guts to try it, I realized I couldn’t do it! It seemed like it would be the easiest thing in the world, but four years of potty-training had made it surprisingly difficult. But I kept on trying, and eventually I was able to get a smooth flow of pee going.

                It was extremely weird…it kind of reminded me of a few times I had accidentally wet my pants. But the difference was that the diaper did its job, and the flow stopped inside of it, instead of flowing into the crib.

                I was a little afraid that the diaper would start to leak, but I finished peeing, and the crib was still dry. Relieved that the pressure in my bladder was gone, I examined the feel of the wet diaper.

                It was pretty weird…it was warm, moist, and a little heavy. Part of me just felt really weird, and a little embarrassed…I had just peed myself! Part of me felt…naughty, like I had just done something I wasn’t supposed to. But to my surprise, a third part of me actually liked it! There was something almost cozy about being able to pee without going to the toilet or having it leak out over everything.

                This feeling faded after a few minutes, as the wet diaper started feeling cold and damp. I wanted out of this thing. So what did I do? What any baby would do…I cried for mommy (I now understood why babies cried when they were wet!)

                Mom was there in a matter of seconds, and as soon as she picked me up, she could tell what the problem was. “Now I KNOW my little baby went pee pee in his diapy!” she said. “Let’s get you changed.”

                As she laid me down on the changing table and rolled up my shirt, I remembered that I was going right back into another diaper after all, and that I would probably just have to get used to having my diaper changed. Still, I wasn’t really looking forward to it.

                Mom removed my wet diaper, disposed of it, and then picked up a baby wipe. I couldn’t make myself watch…nobody had wiped me except for me for years. I felt the cold wipe being rubbed across my lower stomach, my thighs, and my privates. Once again I felt my cheeks burn hot as I closed my eyes and tried to block out what was happening.

                I then felt mom grab my ankles, pull my legs over my head, and proceed to wipe my entire butt. Once she was done, she once again shook some baby powder onto my butt, slide a new diaper underneath, and then tape it up on me (just like she had taught me to do with Alex, I remembered for some reason). Mom was obviously a pro at changing diapers. She then gave me a playful pat on my diapered butt and said, “There you go sweetie!” She then picked me up again, and took me over to the crib. I was glad that was over…getting my wet diaper changed was easily the most embarrassing part of being a baby, and I could clearly see why it was so embarrassing whenever mom used to talk about how she used to change my diapers.

                Mom then picked up the pacifier from inside the crib and put it in my mouth. She carried me back down to the playpen, and after she left for a few minutes she came back and tied a ribbon to the pacifier as well as my shirt (“So you won’t lose it”, she said). She then left one more time, presumably to do some more cleaning.

                This time I was left in the playpen with only the baby toys to play with. I really was just in the mood to watch some TV, but mom hadn’t turned it on this time. I quickly got bored in the playpen, and decided I would just turn it on.

                But just as I started to climb out of the playpen, I heard mom scream from across the room, “Robbie, NO!”

                I froze in my place. Mom raced over towards me and looked me dead in the eye, “No!” she repeated firmly to me, shaking a finger. I was a little surprised to see her use this tone with me in my babyish state…it sounded more like the way she talked to me when I was seven. But then I remembered that sometimes she would use this tone with Alex, especially when he was doing something unsafe.

                “No no no, little baby,” she said. “We don’t want you to hurt yourself, now do we? So you just stay put in your playpen.” It didn’t really seem like she thought I could understand this, only that I could understand the “no” part, since she kept reinforcing that.

                She then left again. It was hard to describe, but there was something extremely intimidating about my mom. Even though she was a very nice lady, she seemed to get this fire in her eyes when she told me not do something. Although many times my mischievous and bratty self wouldn’t do what she said, many times she was so intense that I found myself obeying…she just had that affect on me sometimes. It wasn’t even the threat of punishment; it was just the way she spoke. And that’s like this was…I suddenly lost all notions of leaving that playpen.

                But now I was stuck in there. If mom heard that the TV was on, she would know that I had left the playpen, even if she didn’t see me do it. So I just let out an irritated sigh as I just sat there in the playpen, doing nothing.

                The minutes dragged on. It felt like hours were passing, and the time seemed to be taking forever to pass. I didn’t even see mom, but every now and then I’d hear noises to signal that she was still around somewhere. As each second passed, I got more and more bored.

                I started thinking about this crazy morning, and what it had been like to be a baby. Of course, there were a lot of great things about it. I got out of doing any cleaning work; mom gave me plenty of love and attention (even though it was pretty embarrassing). And it had been nice to get a bath, to cuddle with my blankie, and to be fed some good food.

                But other than that, it had just been pretty weird and embarrassing. I hadn’t really thought about everything that went into being a baby when I had made my wish. I didn’t think about how I had to drink from baby bottles, sleep in a crib, and pee in diapers.

                I had really only been about half serious, and I never really expected the wish to come true. And now that I was bored here in the playpen, I realized that even though it had been a pretty fun morning, I was kind of tired of being a baby.

                I remembered that my wish probably hadn’t actually come true…mom was probably only treating me like a baby because I had fooled her into thinking my mind was like a baby’s mind. So, I decided that if I wanted mom to stop treating me like a baby, I just had to start acting seven years old again. And the easiest way to do that was to start talking…after all, babies couldn’t talk.

                So, I just yelled out, “Mooooooooommm! Hey moooooooommmm! It’s me, Robbie! I’m not REALLY a baby…I was just pretending to be one! Remember, I’m seven!”

                As I waited for mom to come into the room, I knew that I’d miss my baby treatment, but that it was time to let it go and be seven again. I also laughed as I thought about how surprised mom would be to find out that I was back to normal again. I realized that she’d probably be pretty mad that I played such a trick on her, but hey, at least I had managed to pass by the whole morning without doing any cleaning!

                I waited a few minutes, but mom didn’t show up. I yelled out a few more times trying to get her attention, but again, she didn’t show.

                I then thought since she wasn’t expecting to hear my voice, maybe she just thought she was hearing voices or something. So, I decided I might as well try crying…that would probably get her attention.

                After I babyishly wailed for a little bit, it turned out that it did the trick, because their mom was, coming over to comfort me again. Once she appeared, I just smiled at her and said, “Guess what mom? I fooled you! I’m not really a baby! I’m seven!”

                “Why, Robbie, I just don’t understand you…” she began. I found myself laughing. She had a surprised look on her face, and I knew that she realized she had been had. I prepared myself for the scolding I was bound to get, although it still was very funny to me.

                But then mom said something that caught me completely off guard.

 

Part 4

 

                “One minute, you’re crying, and the next, you’re giggling at me. I just don’t understand babies’ moods.” With that, she turned and left again.

                I stopped laughing and just kind of looked around, puzzled. “Why, that sure was weird,” I said aloud. “She must not have heard me…” She had obviously seen me laughing, and she had even known that I was laughing.

                I tried crying again, and once again this got mom’s attention. I then talked a little bit louder, and little bit more clearly, and I was serious this time.

                “Hey, mom, the joke’s over. I’m not really a baby, see? I was just acting like one because I wanted to fool you into treating me like one. And I tricked you, see? But I’m really seven, remember? So you can go back to treating me like I’m seven again, okay?”

                But mom looked at me like she didn’t understand a word I said. “Why Robbie, you sure are acting funny. I think I get it. You probably want to play a game. Well, I think I can spare a little time to play with you.” She smiled at me again, and then turned to leave.

                “No, mom,” I said. “You don’t get it. The game’s over…I was just acting like I was a baby.” But mom completely ignored what I was saying, and continued to walk out of the room. There was definitely something weird going on…

                Before I could think about this much more, mom came back, this time carrying my blanket from my crib. She then looked at me and said in a babyish tone, “Look what it is, Wobbie! It’s your blankie! Here comes Robbie’s snuggwy bwankie!”

                “Mom, can’t you hear me? Aren’t you listening?” I asked, still extremely puzzled by the way she was treating me.

                She then picked me up out of the crib and put me down on the floor. She sat down right in front of me and gently pinched my cheek. Next, she held up the blanket so that I couldn’t see her. She said, “Peek…”, and then suddenly lowered the blanket and quickly said, “A-boo!” and then laughed as I continued to watch in amazement.

                “Mom’s what’re you…”, I began, but was interrupted by her hiding herself with the blanket again. “Peek…” she said, followed by another drop of the blanket and “A-boo!”

                One more time she held it up, said, “Where’s Wobbie?” Quickly lowering it, she then said, “There’s Wobbie!” and leaned up very close to me and laughed crazily.

                “Where’s mommy?” she asked, followed by, “Here’s mommy!”

                “Mom!” I said indignantly. “What are you doing?”

                She then leaned up very close to me and said, “Jabba wabba da ba!”, basically some nonsense baby talk.

                I looked at her with an upset face, and then said, “What? Mom, listen…I AM NOT A BABY!”

                But she just continued to smile, she shook her head, and then said, “Babba dabba Wobbie wa!” with another laugh.

                “MOM! STOP IT! LISTEN TO ME!” But once again, she stared at me, smiled and said, “Weedee deedee dee poo poo!”

                I just couldn’t believe it! What was going on here? Why in the world wasn’t mom listening to me? Then I remembered something…I remembered that this was the way that mom would talk and play with Alex. Even though he couldn’t talk, he was able to speak babyish gibberish, and mom would always get excited and speak back to him some nonsense baby talk.

                Mom seemed to give up, because she then said, “Well, you’ve stopped crying now, Robbie, so it’s back to work for me and back into your playpen for you.” Picking me up, she set me back down into the playpen, although she also left the blanket in the playpen with me. She also stuck my pacifier in my mouth, although I angrily spit it out as she turned to leave.

                Then I realized something with horror…mom couldn’t understand me! Even though what I was saying made perfect sense to me, to mom, it was just gibberish! To her, I was speaking like a baby who couldn’t talk yet.

                At first, I thought that mom had gone crazy. I mean, I was still in my seven-year-old body, and I was speaking clear English, but yet she still thought I was a baby.

                But then I continued to think, and it didn’t seem to make any sense that mom could go crazy overnight. It seemed like something big must have happened last night, because that’s when things changed…

                And then it hit me; my wish. Now, up until now, I hadn’t really thought much of the wish…it was just one of those things you did because someone told you it could happen. But I hadn’t really expected it to happen…I mean, how could it?

                And then I thought, ‘Wait a sec…if my wish came true, why am I still in my seven year old body? Didn’t I wish to be a baby again? It’s not like I woke up in a baby’s body in a crib and a diaper…I was still in my normal body in my normal bed this morning…’

                But then I remembered a very important detail…I hadn’t wished TO BE a baby again. I had only wished to be TREATED like a baby. And that was it! I had gotten my wish! I was being treated like a baby!

                I thought, ‘Wait, maybe it’s not that mom can’t understand my English…maybe it’s actually coming out as baby talk, even though I can understand it! And maybe I’m actually in a baby’s body, and it just seems like I’m in my own! That’s why the blanket covers my whole body, and that’s why the diaper fits me so well!’

                Well, I wasn’t 100% sure which it was…whether I was physically seven and mom saw me as a baby, or whether I was really a baby and only saw myself as seven. Either way, I knew that for now I was stuck being treated like a baby. And if mom treated me like a baby, I was pretty sure dad would too.

                So what now? Well, I hadn’t specified how long I was going to be treated like a baby…although I had kind of implied that I only wanted it for a day. Even though I hadn’t specifically said ONLY a day, I decided it would be best for me just to make it to the end of the day…then I would deal with it from there.

                The problem was that I soon realized that not only would it be extremely boring to just sit here in this playpen, but that I wouldn’t be left alone. Mom obviously felt that she couldn’t leave a baby by himself for too long, because she kept coming back in and disturbing me.

                One time she came in, picked me up, bounced me up and down some, and then sat with me on the couch and rocked me back and forth as she cradled me in her arms. Another time she just continued to coo me and baby talk me until I was sick of it. Another time she decided it was time for me to have another bottle, so she forced me to drink it, no matter how hard I tried to fight her back.

                Each time, I tried to reason with her, but like before, it had no effect. I started to get really upset, and just like I normally did at that age, I started acting like a total brat…I thought that since she couldn’t understand me, I could at least be rude to her and make things difficult for her.

                But after she struggled to force me to finish the baby bottle, she held me tightly, looked me dead in the eye, and said firmly “Now Robbie. You had better be a good little boy, or mommy will have to spank you.”

                After setting me down in the playpen and leaving me, these words were still affecting me. Again, my mom had that way of intimidating me with her tone a lot of times, and I found myself complying. And even though she had never spanked Alex, I had seen her occasionally given him a sharp slap on the butt when he was being really, really difficult. And she had spanked me plenty of times since before I could remember, so I had no inclination that she was bluffing.

                So I just sat there in the playpen and pouted, both frustrated at my situation and angry at mom for her treatment of me. I finally decided that I was fed up with this, and that I wasn’t going to take any more of it. I was going to march up to my room, take off this stupid diaper, and come back down to the couch and watch TV.

                But as soon as I hopped out of the playpen, mom spotted me, and I saw her angrily storm into the room. “ROBBIE!” she said in a fierce tone that made me immediately stop in my tracks.

                “I TOLD YOU!” she said as she came upon me and picked me up. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself or get into things you’re not supposed to, and I told you NOT to leave your playpen. So I’ll just have to teach you to obey me in another way. Even little babies need to follow rules, and you’ll hurt yourself if you leave your playpen. So this is for your own good.”

                I was still extremely nervous, and I hadn’t been able to make myself move. But as mom sat down on the couch and started to put me face down over her lap, I broke down and started yelping, “I’m sorry mom! I won’t do it again! I mean it! I’m sorry!”

                But of course mom couldn’t understand me, and even if she could I doubted it would make a difference. I felt her un-tape my diaper, and I felt cold air hit my butt. Out of shear fear I tried to escape from her, but her firm grip held me in place. And I knew what was coming…mom was going to spank me.

                I immediately felt her hand strike my butt with a swift slap, and I immediately felt a sharp pain. I was still pleading for mom to stop, but she kept going, continuing to give me more sharp slaps on the butt. With each slap she uttered a word, “No, no, no! You, will, stay, put, when, mommy, tells, you, to!”

                Finally, after what was probably about twenty slaps, she stopped. By this point I was crying for real, and there were a few tears going down my cheeks. The spanking had really been just like the ones mom normally gave me. It was probably because of this that I thought for a second that mom had realized that I was seven again and that she was punishing me in the normal way.

                But then I felt mom re-tape my diaper, and she sat me up in front of her. Looking me dead in the eye, she said, “Now do you understand? Mommy doesn’t want you to get hurt, so you must stay in your playpen while mommy works, okay?” Without waiting for me to say anything else, mom pushed me up against her chest and gave me a hug. “Mommy loves, you, Robbie, but you have to stay put.”

                With that she took me back over to the playpen, put me in, and said, “Now this time, you stay.” Once again she left.

                I wiped my eyes and got myself back under control (I had still been slightly sobbing up until now). I found it hard to believe what was really happening…I was being treated just like a baby! And now, I had to stay in this stupid playpen.

                I didn’t dare disobey mom and try to leave again. Like I said, my mom always could intimidate me when she was very serious, and it had been a while since she had been this serious. And my butt still hurt from the spanking, so the last thing I was going to do was get out of the playpen.

                But now I was stuck again. I had no choice but to stay here and be completely bored again. I began pouting to myself about how miserable I was, and I wondered how I could have been so stupid to wish to be treated like a baby. This was horrible, and I kept wondering how long it would last. Now that I had time to think about it, it really did hit me: how long WAS I going to be treated like a baby? The rest of the day? Two days? A week? A month? A YEAR?! When would it stop?

                I then realized something else…the next day was Monday, and I had camp again. I wanted to see my friends, and to play with them again. But what would they say if they saw mom was treating me like a baby? What would they say when they saw me walk up to them wearing a diaper? I would be made fun of terribly.

                But then I realized yet another thing…since when do babies go to camp? Mom wouldn’t let me go…she couldn’t even understand me? I’d be stuck in this playpen all day tomorrow as well! This was getting worse and worse by the minute!

                And soon I would realize how much worse it would actually get.

 

Part 5

 

                As I sat there in my misery, after a while what I should have realized was inevitable happened...I realized that I had to poop. Again, my natural reaction was to get up to go to the bathroom. But as soon as I grabbed onto the edge of the playpen, the image of my mom’s angry face and the feeling of her spanking my butt popped up in my mind. I was so frightened by this that I let go of the edge like it was a hot stove and I sat back down in the playpen. I knew there would be no way that I could manage to get out, make it to the bathroom, take off my diaper, use the toilet, put my diaper back on, and make it back to the playpen without mom noticing. If nothing else she’d hear the toilet flush, and I wasn’t even sure if I could put my diaper on myself correctly.

                So I just sat there and pouted some more while the pressure in my stomach got worse and worse. I came to the horrible conclusion that I would have no choice but to poop my diaper like a little baby. For some reason this seemed so much worse than just wetting it…I felt really, really embarrassed about it. I started to softly cry, knowing that I had no choice. But I managed to force myself to go through with it. I placed my hands on the floor of the playpen, leaned forward a little, and pushed out as hard as I could.

                Just like wetting my diaper had been, this was surprisingly hard. I just wanted to get it over with, but I just couldn’t manage to make it come out. I continued to cry as I pushed and pushed, and eventually, it came out. I cringed as I felt the horrible mess push up against my diaper, and up against my butt as well. Without thinking, I sat back down on my butt, and I felt the nasty mess spread even further across my butt. This was so disgusting! I didn’t see how babies lived with it!

                And then the smell hit my nose. It was totally revolting. I managed to make myself stop crying, and I calmed down a bit. But I hated the feeling of the poop in my diaper, so I wanted nothing else but to be changed. I had no choice but to loudly bawl to get mom’s attention, and I hoped she would come fast.

                It took a few minutes of crying, but finally mom came into the room. With a look of concern on her face, she raced over towards me. As she started to pick me up, I noticed her sniff, and I could tell she knew exactly what was wrong, and not just because she then said, “Whew! Looks like Robbie has a poopy diaper! We better get him cleaned up!”

                I had stopped my fake crying as soon as mom picked me up, but this comment drove me to real tears…I felt so degraded.

                But before either me or mom did anything else, to my surprise, the front door opened. But I was even more surprised when I saw who walked through it.

                It was a boy…he looked about 13, which seemed considerably older than me. He had straight, blondish brown hair, blue eyes, and he wore a baggy T-shirt and shorts. He was sweating, and it looked like he had been playing outside all day. I had never seen him in my life, so I couldn’t help but wonder who he was and what he was doing in our house.

                “Mom, I’m home,” he called as he closed the door. “Corey’s mom gave me a ride home, remember?”

                ‘Mom?!’ I wondered.

                “Oh, Alex,” mom said as the kid started to make his way up the stairs. “Since you’re going upstairs anyway, here, take Robbie, he needs to be changed.”

                ‘Alex?!’ I asked myself.

                I noticed the look of disgust cross the kid’s face. “Aw, mom! I don’t wanna change that little baby’s diaper! It’s nasty! He probably pooped too, didn’t he?”

                “Well, yes,” mom said.

                “Ugh!” said the kid as he walked over towards us. “I can smell it from here! Why do I have to change him?”

                I didn’t know exactly why, but the way this kid was talking about me hurt my feelings. It probably didn’t help that I was completely embarrassed by the fact that my poopy diaper really did stink.

                “Don’t act so mean to him,” mom said. “He is your brother, you know. Besides, it’s good for you to learn how to do things like this, so when you have your own children you’ll have some experience.”

                “Ok, whatever,” the kid said as mom handed me to him. He slightly grunted as he threw me over his shoulder, and he then said, “If I have to, I’ll change the little stinker.”

                “And you tell me if he gives you any trouble. After all, he is still a baby.”

                “Mom, I can handle changing a diaper. It’s not like I’m gonna let the little stinker get hurt.”

                “Alex, stop calling him that!”

                “Ok, ok,” the kid said as he began to carry me over to the stairs and then walked up them. My head was spinning as this was going on. What was happening? This kid kept calling my mom his mom, and apparently his name was Alex. Could it be that this was my little baby brother? So not only was I a baby, but I was Alex’s baby brother, not the other way around!

                And he sure didn’t seem happy about this diaper changing business (as if I was!) His conversation with mom sounded a lot the like the one she used to have with me when I had to change Alex’s diaper. I never wanted to, but she told me it would be good for me. But that was different! Alex was only a baby! But then I realized…Alex must think I’m a baby! I realized now our roles were reversed, and I was the annoying little baby, and he was the big brother (although it seemed weird that he looked 13, not seven. I guessed that maybe since I was in a bigger body, maybe he was too…but I was still confused about this whole thing, so I didn’t think about it).

                As he reached the top of the stairs, I tried to reason with this kid…uh, Alex, hoping that unlike mom he’d understand I wasn’t a baby.

                “Look!” I yelled at him. “I’m seven! I’m not a baby! Get me out of this diaper!”

                I then heard him say, “Shut up.” I had hoped that he had understood me, but he then said, “I’m tired, and I’m not in the mood for babyish gibberish. Just be quiet and let me get this over with. Man, you stink. Mom was right…you are nothing but trouble.”

                I let out a whimper as I realized he didn’t understand me. I also remembered what mom had said, and not wanting another spanking, I decided to just go along with Alex. But he was being so…mean to me! He acted like I wasn’t a real person, like I was nothing but a little nuisance that he couldn’t stand.

                He carried me into the nursery and laid me down on the changing table. He strapped me in and proceeded to un-tape my diaper. The smell became even worse as he did so, and he groaned as he balled up the poopy diaper and threw it into a little pail. Unfortunately, there was still some of the poop left on me, and I could tell Alex knew that he’d still have to clean me up.

                As he took a baby wipe and cleaned all the poop off of me, he muttered to himself, occasionally directing a comment to me. It felt weird to have a complete stranger take a cold baby wipe and wipe down my privates as well as my butt, but I was in no position to resist. Besides, he was older than me, and older kids always intimidated me. They seemed so confident and so cool, and I didn’t want to get in his way.

                “I can’t believe I have to do this. Everything sure got bad as soon as YOU came along. Ever since you got here, it’s all about you. ‘Oh, the baby’s hungry.’ ‘Oh, the baby needs to be changed.’ ‘Oh, everyone come see the baby.’ You, you, you. I even get stuck having to deal with you. All you ever do is cry and say stupid baby gibberish and poop in your diapers. What’s so great about you?”

                As he shook some baby powder onto my privates and then my butt, he said, “No one ever pays attention to me anymore. YOU get everyone’s attention. Does anyone care about what I need? NO! Why did you have to come along? Everything was better ‘til you came around. Now, here I am, changing your nasty diaper while you just sit there and babble on.”

                I didn’t know why, but what he was saying upset me really badly. Why was he so selfish? What had I ever done to him to make him hate me so much? Did he think I WANTED to wear diapers? Did he think I WANTED him to change me? Why couldn’t he just be nice to me? Before I knew it, his hateful words made me start to cry.

                Alex took a new diaper and slid it underneath my butt as I continued to softly cry. As he taped it back up, he said, “Great, now you’re starting to cry again. And mom will probably blame it on me. Geez, why are you such a pain?”

                Even though he was being so mean to me, for some reason part of me thought this kid was kind of cool. So part of me just wanted to get him to like me. So, I managed to make myself stop crying. He threw me back over his shoulder and carried me down the stairs.

                As I calmed down, he said, “Good, you’re being quiet. I guess you’re not ALL bad. Man, if you weren’t so annoying, you might even be a little bit cute.”

                Alex carried me downstairs and put me back into the playpen. To my surprise, he smiled at me and then tousled my hair, and then went into the kitchen to talk to mom. I heard him say something about going down the street to do something, and I saw him go out the door. Again, I couldn’t figure it out…even though he was very self-centered, mean, and complained a lot, I really liked it when he had smiled at me, and I found I didn’t want him to go.

 

Part 6

 

                Still though, I was still hurt by what he had said. He had just been so angry towards me. It made me feel bad about being a baby. So that was just one more thing added onto the torture that I was going through being treated this way.

                I didn’t have that much time to think about all of this though, because mom then came back over to me and said, “Okay, Robbie, I know you must be hungry again, so it’s time to eat.”

                As mom picked me up and carried me back over to the high chair, I thought about how I wasn’t really hungry at all. But I knew it would be useless to resist…I didn’t even bother saying anything to mom. Besides, even though I wasn’t that hungry, when I had eaten earlier that day, it had been so good that I didn’t mind having some more.

                So I was actually feeling pretty content as mom set me up in the high chair and tied a bib around my neck. I even found myself smiling a little bit.

                However, my mood completely changed when I saw what mom brought out. It was more baby food, but it wasn’t the same kind that she had given me earlier in the day…I could tell right away there were two jars, one with some mushy green glop, the other with some light brown chunky stuff.

                I found myself wincing a little bit as mom sat down, opened the green jar, and began to move a spoonful of the stuff towards my mouth. At first I closed my lips, but mom figured out a way to get the spoonful into my mouth immediately (she had probably gotten a lot of practice with Alex, I guessed).

                It was probably the most disgusting thing I had ever tasted. It was some kind of nasty vegetable paste stuff, and it was just plain horrible. Just by natural reflex I immediately spit it out, and it dribbled down my chin and onto my bib, making me feel really stupid.

                Mom then gave me a stern look and said, “Now Robbie, you have to eat your veggies. That’s the only way you’ll grow up to be big and strong.”

                Taking another spoonful, mom once again tried to get some of it in my mouth. But I wasn’t having it this time…it tasted too badly. Even though mom pushed it towards my mouth, I didn’t let it come in.

                But this got mom very frustrated and angry, and she then said sharply, “Robbie, you are going to open your mouth and swallow this down, or you’re going to get another spanking. You need your veggies. Now open up!”

                I don’t know if it was the threat of another spanking or just the pure tone of mom’s voice, but almost beyond my control I found myself complying. With pure angst I somehow managed to swallow the spoonful that she had pushed into my mouth. The stuff made me gag and I had trouble choking it down, but I managed to do it.

                But mom wasn’t done, and she kept on giving me more and more. It felt like that horrible little jar would never be empty, and it seemed like each spoonful was harder the previous one for me to swallow. I was almost in tears by the tenth spoonful, and I felt like I might even throw up.

                But mom stopped with that jar and then got a spoonful of the brown kind. This stuff was only a tiny bit better (it was some kind of weird meat paste), and I had equally as much trouble getting it down. I was just about to decide to take the spanking over eating any more but mom finally stopped giving me any more.

                By this time, the whole scene was a mess. I had baby food not only on my chin, but on my cheeks, all over my bib, and on the high chair as well. Mom seemed tired but satisfied (it had been some work for her too), and she then took a napkin and cleaned me up.

                I was relieved that the horrible feeding was finally over, but mom didn’t take me out of the high chair yet. After about five minutes I realized that she was preparing another baby bottle. I wasn’t really in the mood for anything else, but I knew that milk would be better than what I just had, and it might even get the nasty taste out of my mouth.

                Once she had the bottle ready, she once again picked me up and carried me over to the couch. Cradling me in her lap, she once again inserted the nipple into my mouth. But as soon as I started sucking it on it, I realized that it wasn’t milk…it was some really nasty tasting liquid! I tried to spit it out or at least stop drinking it, but like before, mom was holding it in a way that I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

                As I continued to choke it down, I realized that it must have been baby formula I was drinking! It was almost as bad as the baby food, even though it was easier to get down. But I didn’t really have a choice in the matter anyway.

                Thankfully, mom stopped when the bottle was about half empty. As she removed it from my mouth, she said, “Well, I think that’s enough. You seem pretty full to me. I think it’s time for another nap for you.”

                “Another nap?” I said out loud with a groan, forgetting mom couldn’t understand me at all. I wasn’t the least bit tired! And now I had to try to go to sleep?

                Mom took me back upstairs to the nursery and once again tucked me into the crib. I was pouting about the whole thing, trying to get mom to think that I wasn’t tired. But she either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because once again she stuck a pacifier in my mouth, left me in the crib and turned the light out as she left the room.

                Angrily spitting out the pacifier, I couldn’t think of what to do next. There was no way I was going to fall asleep again, but I knew that if I tried to get out of the crib, mom would surely find out and I would be punished greatly. No matter how boring or bad something got, the fear of my mom was in me, and it was almost impossible for me to defy her…she just had that kind of hold over me when she got really angry. And earlier that day she had been just about as angry as I had ever seen her.

                Once again I began to think about how much I hated this. Being a baby was no fun at all…not only was it really embarrassing; it made me feel like I was stupid or something. And I felt so helpless…I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t get up to walk around, I couldn’t feed myself, I couldn’t do anything fun…I couldn’t even go to the bathroom.

                And I couldn’t stand all of this attention from mom. It was so annoying the way she talked to me, and she cared so much about every single little thing I did. Besides, she got really angry with me for just doing stupid little things, like trying to get out of the playpen.

                And even Alex didn’t like me! He thought I was stupid and annoying, and then he had the nerve to think that I got everything! What, did he want to be like this? Did he want mom always looking over him, either doing everything for him or talking to him in stupid baby talk? Did he want all of her attention all of the time?

                Not to mention how bad it was to have to eat that stupid baby food, drink stupid baby bottles, only have teddy bears and stupid baby toys to play with, and have to pee and poop in stupid diapers.

                 I felt like the biggest idiot in the world…how did I ever get the idea that being a baby was a good thing? It was the worst thing in the world! I felt horrible about making my wish, and I wished there was some way I could take it back. I felt like I would give anything in the world to be seven year old Robbie again, to be able to go to camp with my friends, to be able to play video games or watch TV when I wanted, to be able to get away from mom a little bit when I wanted, to be the BIG brother, not the one who annoyed the big brother…heck, at this point, I didn’t even think swimming lessons or yard work sounded bad!

                As I continued to lie there in my misery, I must have lost track of time, because mom then came back into the nursery. As she picked me up, I decided I was just totally sick of being a baby…and I then realized something. Even though I couldn’t disobey mom without being punished, I did have one weapon: my crying. If I kept on crying, mom would immediately feel bad for me, and then I could get her to do what I wanted.

                So, I immediately started my fake crying, trying to sound like a baby as much as possible. It worked like a charm…immediately, mom started talking to me in a soothing voice. She held me tightly over her shoulder, softly bouncing me up and down and saying “Shh…shh…don’t cry little Robbie…it’s okay…”

                But I didn’t stop. It seemed like mom was getting a little stressed out, and I knew it was getting to her. She checked my diaper, but found I was dry. She had just fed me and put me down for a nap, so I knew she knew wasn’t tired or hungry. She took me down to the playpen and started playing games with me, but I still cried. She tried to give me a pacifier to calm me down, but I spit it out and kept on crying.

                Mom was beginning to get really worried now, and I knew that I had the power to keep her that way. I didn’t know exactly what I was going to do next, but at least I felt like for the first time that day I was in control of everything.

                As I continued to pretend to cry, mom suddenly changed moods, and I could tell she had gotten an idea. “Wait,” she said. “I think I know what’s wrong. I think Wobbie needs some fresh air. Yes, that’s the problem.”

                This puzzled me, so without thinking I stopped crying. As mom carried me over to Alex’s stroller, I was trying to figure out what was going on. Before I knew it, mom had tightly strapped me in, and to my surprise, I was in tightly enough that I couldn’t really move.

                During this whole time I had forgotten to keep crying, so it made sense that mom said, “Yes, that’s it. Wobbie knows his stroller is nice and comfy, and he likes it! Yes, he wants to go outside!”

                I began to get really nervous as I realized what mom had in mind…she was going to push me around in the stroller! It had been one thing for mom to treat me like a baby, but now other people were going to see me! What would they do? How would they treat me?

                I tried to get out of the stroller, but it was no use. I started to panic, as I feared being seen as a baby by anyone outside of the house.

                Mom made my fears worse, because as she got her things together, I heard her say, “And I know everybody will want to stop and say hello to my wittle Wobbie because he’s just the cutest baby in the world! And everyone will want to coo and play with him because he’s so adorable! And maybe we might even seen some little girls…they always love seeing cute little babies! And everyone will be so happy to see Wobbie in his cute little diaper…someone may even offer to change him for me!”

                Hearing all of this made me totally lose it. I may have been able to take mom baby talking me, I may have been able to take choking down nasty baby food, I may have been able to take pooping my diaper, I may have been able to take being stuck in a playpen all day, I may have been able to deal with having naps during the day, I may have even been able to take Alex being so mean to me…but I knew that there was no way I could manage to take GIRLS coming up to me and treating me like a baby.

                Almost beyond my control, I started to yell out, “MOM! PLEASE! I’m not a BABY! Can you hear me?! It’s me Robbie! Seven-year-old Robbie! Please mom, please don’t make me go out there! Please don’t let anyone see me in a stroller wearing a diaper! Please don’t let anyone see me like this, and baby -alk me and say how cute a baby I am! I’m NOT a baby! Please mom, please, if you can hear me at all, please, stop this!”

                I was in tears at this point, and I was whining and pleading as loud as I could. It was all too much for me.

                But it didn’t do any good. As I kept shouting and yelling, mom just stood behind the stroller and pushed it towards the front door. I was still freaking out so badly that I wasn’t even prepared for what was going to happen next.

 

Part 7

 

                 Because I saw mom reach out her hand for the front door, and while I was still pleading in terror, I saw mom pull back her hand, turn towards me, and begin to loosen me from the restraints of the stroller.

                I was so frazzled that I didn’t notice that she had completely un-strapped me and was now lifting me up into her arms again. She then carried me back over to the couch and sat down, holding me tightly in her arms. While tears continued to roll down my cheeks I kept on trying to convince mom I wasn’t a baby.

                She began to rock me back and forth in her arms, still holding me tightly, and she said, “Shh…shh…Robbie, honey, it’s ok…it’s ok…”

                But even though I was glad that apparently I wasn’t going for the stroller ride, I was still very upset. It was if all of my emotions from the day were pouring out at this moment…all of my anxieties, worries, humiliations and frustrations about being a baby again were flooding through my sobs and screams. No matter what mom said, it wasn’t ok…I didn’t want her to rock me back and forth like a stupid little baby, I didn’t want my mommy to have to make the little baby stop crying…I wanted to be seven again.

                So it didn’t even register for me when mom looked me directly in the eye and said in a comforting voice, “Robbie, listen to me! I know you’re NOT A BABY!”

                I swore that I must have heard her wrong, but even though I was still shaken up a lot, I managed to calm myself enough to look at her and say, “What?” softly through a sob.

                Mom gently smiled and said, “I said I know you’re not a baby. You’re seven year olds, Robbie! You’re a big boy who just got out of the first grade! You’re big enough to help me and dad clean up the house and take care of the yard. You go to camp where you play soccer and baseball and other big boy games with all of the other big boys!”

                Hardly believing what I was hearing, I just stared at mom in disbelief as she continued to talk. I had to be imagining this…it just didn’t make any sense…

                “You are NOT a little baby!” she continued, smiling at me gently and holding me tightly. “You…don’t need diapers! You don’t need to be kept in a playpen, or to sleep in a crib. You don’t need to eat baby food, or drink from a bottle. You don’t need a pacifier to get to sleep!”

                I was so confused by this point that I didn’t know what to make of what mom was saying. I did manage to stop my crying, and all I could think to say was, “You…you really mean it, mom?”

                “Yes!” she said.

                “So you can understand me? You don’t just hear a baby crying or saying stupid baby talk!”

                “Yes!” she said again. “I know exactly what you’re saying! Seven year olds can talk just fine, so you can too!”

                Extreme relief coursed through my entire body. I felt like all of my pain, worry, and embarrassment from the day was just melting off of me. Before I knew it, I felt myself launching into an explanation.

                “Oh mom, it was horrible! The whole day you thought I was a baby! You made me wear diapers and eat baby food and the whole time you thought I was only crying and…”

                As I talked, mom just softly laughed and said, “No, Robbie, you silly boy! I knew it was you the whole time!”

                Feeling very puzzled, I just looked at her funny. “You…you did?” I asked.

                “Yes!” she said. “For the entire day, I was just pretending you were a baby, just like you at the start! I was acting like I couldn’t understand you…the whole time I knew exactly what you were saying. But I wanted you to think that I didn’t…I wanted to treat you exactly like a baby. And that’s why I did what I did…that’s why I gave you your bath, just like when you were a baby. That’s why I diapered you just like I used to. That’s why I fed you a baby bottle, and why I made you eat that disgusting baby food. That’s why I forced you to stay in the playpen. Because that’s the way babies are treated…and I wanted to treat you exactly like I used to back when you were a baby.”

                Still in disbelief from what mom was telling me, I just asked, “But…why? Why would you do something like that? Why would you want to treat me like a baby all day? I’m not a baby! I’m seven years old!”

                Mom couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, Robbie…I think you know the answer to that question. Because tell me…what was it that you wanted more than anything in the world last night?”

                It suddenly dawned on me…my wish! After all of the torture I had been through, it was hard to believe that only one day before what I wanted more than anything was to be a baby.

                Softly, I said, “Uh…well…to be treated like a baby again…”

                “Exactly. Now, when you first told me last night, I just wrote it off as a silly little thing you kids say. I just thought you were mad and just said you didn’t want to grow up. But later that night, after your dad and I had sent you to bed, I was walking down the hall after putting Alex in his crib, and I heard you talking. Now, part of me felt I shouldn’t have, but I was curious, so I listened. And I heard that you say that your one wish was to be treated just like a little baby again. So I knew that you were serious about this…so I just went back to my room and thought about it. Because I knew you felt so strongly about this, I decided I would give you exactly what you wanted, just for one day. I was going to treat you just like a little baby boy. And I knew your father would be gone the whole day working, so I could treat you just how I wanted, no matter if he agreed with it or not.

                “I have to admit, even I was surprised the next morning when you got up and started acting like a baby. But since I knew it was what you wanted, I decided it would just make it easier for me to treat you like one…”

                “I thought I was fooling you,” I said. “I thought I had made you believe that I really was a baby again.”

                Mom let out another laugh at this. “Oh Robbie, you silly boy! I should have known…you always have thought like that. So I guess that’s why you kept acting like a baby for a little while. Well, I have to say, it did feel a little funny giving you a bath again, and it was even hard for me to pretend you were a baby…I had to make sure that I didn’t even once treat you like I normally do. Because I was determined to show you exactly what it’s like to be a baby again…even if I had to put you back in diapers.

                “It was quite strange…even though I’m used to it with Alex, I had never diapered a seven year old boy before. Nor had I put one in a crib, or spoonfed one…but it seemed like you were enjoying it so much that it wasn’t hard at all. And to be honest, it was kind of nice…you really were such a cute baby when you were born, and it was fun to have my wittle Wobbie back again.”

                I blushed slightly at this remark, but I kept listening to mom tell her story, still struggling to take everything in.

                “But I also wanted to show you that being a baby wasn’t all fun and games. So I made you stay put in that playpen, knowing that the fear of a spanking would keep you there. But if I didn’t actually spank you, you’d know that I wouldn’t do actually do it. And I am sorry for spanking you, Robbie…but it was the only way to make you stay put and realize how boring it is to be a baby.”

                “And wetting and pooping my diaper was horrible!” I added.

                Mom couldn’t help but laugh at this. “I didn’t think you’d like that much. Kind of nice to use the toilet, huh? And I wasn’t exactly thrilled about changing you, either. But I knew it was the only way you’d realize that it’s really not fun being a baby.”

                Suddenly, I remembered something…mom didn’t actually change my poopy diaper…Alex did! But if mom knew I wasn’t really a baby, then why didn’t Alex? And if I never was a baby, then why…

                “Hey!” I said. “What about Alex? Why did he treat me like a baby?”

                Mom just smiled and said, “Robbie, Alex never was in the house today. You never saw him. The real Alex is your little baby brother…and I knew that I would need his crib and changing table for you. So I had Mrs. Johnson take him for the day…he was out of here before you even got up.”

                “So who was that big kid who came in here?” I asked, completely confused.

                “THAT, was Frankie. He’s the son of one of my neighborhood friends…he lives a few blocks away, and I knew you had never met him. I asked my friend if I could borrow him for a few minutes today, and she agreed. She had told me that he had done some babysitting in the past, so I knew he knew how to take care of babies. I offered him 20 dollars to pretend that you were a baby, that he was your older brother named Alex, and that he hated taking care of you. He was extremely confused by this and agreed with a strange look on his face, but he didn’t want to pass up 20 dollars, so he went through with it. And I think he did a great job.”

                “But why?!” I asked, feeling like I had been the butt of some huge joke. “Why did you have to treat me like a baby? Why couldn’t you just tell me I was wrong?”

                “Honey, you know how you are…you wouldn’t believe me, and you would keep on arguing with me that you never wanted to get older and that Alex has it easy and that you wanted more than anything to be in his place.” (she was right about this, as much as I hated to admit it).

                “I knew the only way you would understand was if you felt EXACTLY what it would be like to be a baby again.”

                She then hugged me very tightly and didn’t let go.

                “Robbie, honey, listen…I know that it’s hard sometimes being the big brother. A baby takes up a lot of attention, and ever since Alex came along he’s gotten a lot more of it than you have. I should know…I’m eight years older than your aunt Glenda, and I hated her when she was born. I know that everyone’s always so interested in Alex, and nobody’s paid as much attention to you, especially me and your father. And I’m sorry for that…sometimes we get so caught up in Alex and everything he needs that we don’t always listen to your needs, and we should.

                “But as you saw today, babies have a lot of needs. If daddy and I don’t take care of him all of the time, he might get hurt or cry a lot. So believe me, it’s much easier to take care of you, because you’re a big boy and can do a lot of things without our help. Alex can’t do anything…he can’t feed himself, he can’t walk, he needs naps, he needs diapers…he really can’t do much at all. And you don’t want that…you want to be able to do things without mommy and daddy always doing things for you, like going to camp by yourself, making your own friends, having fun without us…you can do a lot of things.

                What mom was saying really was making me feel better, and I started to realize she was right…Alex really couldn’t do anything, and the only reason he got so much attention was that he was a helpless little baby. And I didn’t want mom and dad to have to do everything for me…and I didn’t even want their friends to say how cute I was…Alex could have all of that.

                “And you see, Robbie,” mom continued. “Not only is Alex just a baby, he’s YOUR baby brother. Tell me, how did you feel today when Frankie started acting like he didn’t want you around, and that he didn’t like you?”

                “Well, I felt…really bad. He was big and I wanted him to like me…and he just hated me because I was little and couldn’t do anything.”

                “So, you see, that’s the way Alex sees you. Well, for now, he won’t remember anything. But once he gets a little older, he’s going to look up to you! Because you’ll be able to do things that he can’t. And he’ll want you to like him! So when you act like you don’t like him at all, he’s going to feel the way you felt when Frankie said all of those things to you today.”

                I suddenly remembered how good it felt when Alex…uh, Frankie, had smiled at me today. To think that I could have that effect on Alex!

                “So, Robbie,” mom said. “That’s why we need you to be a big boy, to be the big brother. Because you’re the one who’s going to be the grown up, the big boy of the family. And,” she added with a smile. “That also means it would be nice for you to help show what a good big brother you can be by helping daddy and I take care of Alex sometimes…even if it means changing a smelly diaper every now and then.”

                With a mental sigh I realized mom was right…I was a big boy, and I had to show some responsibility, even if it wasn’t fun sometimes. Because Alex was the baby, not me! But I did have a few more questions for mom, first.

                “So dad didn’t know about all of this?”

                Mom gave me a devious smile and said, “Well, maybe we can let this be our little secret…I don’t know what dad would say if he heard you were a baby today instead of helping me clean the house. Although he’ll probably be mad at me anyway…I didn’t get everything done that I had planned, and it was my fault that you weren’t there to help me out…”

                I just smiled and realized that I didn’t want dad to know that I had been a baby for a day…it was weird enough that mom had treated me like one, and besides, dad might STILL blame me for not cleaning up the house. But I had one final question for mom…

                “Uh, mom?” I asked. “You wouldn’t REALLY show me off to a bunch of girls dressed like a baby, would you?”

                Mom laughed again and said, “No, I wasn’t really going to do that. But I bet they would have agreed with me that you make quite an adorable little baby,” she added with a wink. “Now, I say we get you out of that diaper. It’s enough for this mom to only have to change one kid’s diapers!”

                With that, my adventures as a baby were over. It’s funny, you’d think that a thing like this would stick in my memory forever. But until I had that conversation with my friend about 13 years later, I had just about completely forgotten about it. But as soon as I remembered, I wrote down as much of it as I could, since it had been one of the most interesting days of my life.

                Later I went back and asked mom about it. She just laughed and laughed. She had forgotten all about it, too. She even apologized to me for treating me like a baby that day… she said it was a stupid idea that she was a new parent who just did things on a whim. She never did tell dad, though, and he probably will never know. But I just told mom that it was actually a good thing for me, because it made me grow up a little and realize that being a baby really wasn’t what I wanted.

                And it did make me be nicer to Alex. After that day, I did look at him differently, and I actually started to enjoy having him around! I wasn’t as jealous of him, since I knew he couldn’t help being a baby and that he really couldn’t do anything. I even started volunteering to take care of him or play with him, and I even found myself having a good time! Of course, as he got older, I did pick on him and push him around a bit, because that’s what big brothers are for. But I always knew that he would look up to me, so I made sure he knew I loved him and would do anything to protect him.

                So all in all it was a good thing, even though it was a pretty scary day. Some might say that what mom did was cruel, or mean, or just plain weird. And maybe it was…but it did have a solid impact on me, even though I had almost completely forgotten about it.

                But I know what you may be thinking…what on earth did my best friend say to jog this memory, and make me remember the day that I was treated like a baby? And THAT may be the most interesting part of this whole story…

 

Part 8

 

                My best friend, Brett, and I were close enough that we talked about just about everything. We’d often just chill in my room and talk about anything on our minds, sometimes going to three or four in the morning.

                Well, when both of us were about 20, we were just hanging out in his apartment one night. We got to talking about how we were such good friends, and how we’d always be there for each other, no matter what happened. And this was what brought about the bomb that he dropped on me.

                Basically, after he asked me about ten times if I would be his friend no matter what he told me, he let out a deep sigh and said, “Well, you’re gonna find this really, really weird, but…well…I have this secret, deep down desire. I…like being treated like a baby. I like to wear diapers, in particular. I…I don’t know why, but ever since I was little, I’ve always gotten a secret joy from putting on a diaper and pretending I’m a baby…”

                At first, I thought he was joking. But he reassured me many times that he was serious, and like he predicted, I found it really, really weird. I had never heard of such a thing…and it just freaked me out a little that my best friend who I had known for many, many years wanted to…wear diapers and act like a baby. But as strange as it was, I told him that I didn’t think any less of him, and I was still his best friend. And I told him I was glad that he could feel comfortable telling me something that he had never even told his parents.

                Still, I needed some time to take all of this in. At first, I couldn’t get over how awkward and weird this whole thing made me feel. I just kept on wondering how or why anyone would ever want to be a baby again. But then, the next night, as if a light bulb suddenly lit up in my head, I remembered that one weekend in my childhood, I myself had wanted to be a baby, too! I was so excited about this revelation that I wrote down as much as I could remember. And it was like someone had turned on a faucet…the more I wrote, the more the memories flooded back into my head.

                And I began to think about all the reasons why I wanted to be a baby again…how it was a life with no worries or concerns, and how babies get so much more attention and love than everyone else.

                Then I had an even crazier thought…maybe if my mom hadn’t done what she did that weekend…then maybe I would have been just like Brett! Maybe it was mom’s baby treatment of me that day that purged me of such a desire! Maybe it wasn’t such a weird thing after all.

                From then on, I had a new understanding of Brett’s desire, and I once again viewed him as the same old Brett. Besides, he told me there were a lot of people like him. Funnily enough, though, when I told him about this crazy weekend of my past, he told me it was more likely to cause me to be like him than purge me of this desire…he said early childhood things like that can instill these desires into someone. So maybe mom didn’t drive these feelings out of me…but still, it was interesting to think about.

                But I was more open to Brett’s feelings, and after I told him my story, he seemed a lot more comfortable talking to me about his desire. And sometimes I’d even go along with him, telling him how it was kind of neat to be able to get all of the attention and let go of your cares by acting like a baby. A few times he offered me the chance to indulge by putting on a diaper. I eventually gave in, but I didn’t get any special feelings from it. It was just kind of weird. However, even though it wasn’t the lifestyle for me, I could definitely appreciate that this was a part of Brett, and I was glad that he could always talk to me about it and have me relate, even if it was just a little.

 

THE END