Confessions of a Babysitter If you're into kids in underwear and bedwetting, babysitting is the job for you! The neighborhood we lived in had lots of old people and lot of families with little kids, but no kids my age. The kids closest to my age were my three younger brothers (Steve, Scott, and Matt). There was about a year between each of us. That meant there were lots of jobs cutting grass and babysitting, but very few kids to do them. Once we were old enough, that kept my brothers and me pretty busy, and with plenty of money. Since I was the oldest and by far the most responsible I got most of the babysitting jobs, while my brothers did most of the grass cutting. These are true confessions about of some of my babysitting jobs (the names have been changed a little, just in case). Alan and Andy Sadowski were my regular Friday night babysitting job. Most families would have the kids ready for bed when I got there (unless it was really early), but not the Sadowski's. It was understood that part of the job was to give Alan and Andy their baths and get them ready for bed. Even up to the time they moved away, when Alan was 11�, I would undress them, give them baths, and dress them for bed. As soon as their parents left we went up stairs, got the kids undressed, put them in the tub, and bathed them. I would dry them off and sent them downstairs. When I got downstairs after cleaning up the bathroom they would be sitting on the couch, naked, watching TV. They did not care about being naked, and would fight getting dressed for bed, I think because they thought once they were dressed for bed they would soon be in bed. Particularly Andy, who at 4 (when I first started sitting them) was still wearing diapers to bed and hating it. After giving them a bath I'd try to put Alan (2 years older than Andy) in underwear, and then he would laugh as I tried to diaper Andy. At their parents' suggestion, I eventually gave up and just put them both into underpants right before bed. That is all they wore to bed, even when friends were over for the night they just wore underpants. But Andy didn't stop wetting. Typically, a couple hours after he had gone to sleep he would wake up crying, and soaking wet. I'd change him and, not wanting to re-make his bed, I'd put him into Alan's bed. One time I was putting Alan to bed and he said, "Last week after you put Andy in my bed he was wet again, and I was sleeping in it." "If you were sleeping in it, how did you know you didn't wet your bed?" I asked. "Because his bottom was wet, but only my top and head was wet!" And then he giggled; he thought it was funny that he ended up sleeping in his brother's pee. (Ugg.) I was still talking to him about ten minutes later when he said he had to pee and started to pull the covers back to get up. Considering what he had just said, and figuring this was just another stalling tactic to stay up a little while longer I said, "Why don't you just sit there and wet your bed? Then it will be just like last week when Andy wet it." I was surprised when Alan sat back down and it was obvious he was thinking about doing it. After what seemed like a long time of him sitting there thinking it over Alan grabbed his dick, got out of bed, and ran into the bathroom. When he came back there was a wet spot on the front of his underpants about the size of his hand. "Why didn't you wet the bed?" I asked. "Because daddy would beat me just like he does to Andy when he wets!" Now I knew why Andy always cried when he wet the bed. Too bad, too; if their dad didn't beat Andy for wetting Alan might have really sat there and wet his bed just because I suggested it. Another couple down the street, the Wallinger's, were really good friends with the Sadowski's. They had a boy Alan's age (named George) and a girl less than two years older (named Christine). Sometimes the couples would go out together and I would babysit on all four kids at the Sadowski's house. The first couple of times I babysat on the Wallinger kids they were at the Sadowki's house. Alan and George were about 8 when this started. It was funny seeing George and Christine in nice, knit pajamas, with the tops tucked in, while Alan and Andy were playing only in underpants. When I sat on all of them Mrs. Sadowski would have already gotten Alan and Andy ready for bed (instead of me having to bathe Alan and Andy). About an hour after putting them to bed the first time I was sitting on all of them together I heard the floor above me creak so I knew someone was up, but there wasn't any crying so I knew it wasn't Andy having wet. Christine was sleeping in Alan's bed and the three boys had gone to sleep on the floor in sleeping bags in Alan's room. When I got up to the bedroom George was standing in the circle of sleeping bags holding his dick, fidgeting, and whimpering; but his eyes were closed. I could tell he had to pee really badly, but he was more asleep than awake. I guided him to the bathroom and stood him I front of the toilet, but he just kept fidgeting and whimpering and holding himself with his eyes closed. He wouldn't pull down his pajamas, pull out his dick, or pee. Not knowing what to do, I just said, "Well, go ahead, George. Pee!" Immediately he stopped fidgeting and whimpering, let go of his dick, said "Pee" a couple of times, and started to wet his pajamas! And he really soaked them! By the time he was done his light blue pajamas were dark blue from just below the waist band, down the inside half of both legs to his socks that were soaked too since he was standing in a puddle. And his eyes were still closed. I didn't know what to do since the kids had arrived at the Sadowski's house in their pajamas. I guess I could have taken him back to the bedroom, taken the wet pajamas off, and put a pair of Alan's underpants on him, but instead I just put him back into the sleeping bag. I didn't tell the Wallinger's about it; I figured they would just guess he wet himself without getting up. About three weeks later I was called to babysit the four again. When I got there Mrs. Wallinger told me in front of everybody, except her husband, who was at the car, "George was really soaked last time. Make sure he goes to the bathroom before bed and to take him to the toilet again at 11:00." Nobody batted an eye; I guess I was the only one in the group who didn't know George was a wetter. I did what I was told but George was sound asleep at 11:00 and I couldn't get him to wake up and pee. But he was still dry when his parents got back because they weren't as late as they usually stayed out. A few weeks later I babysat only on George and Christina at their house. Mr. Wallinger gave he the same instructions about George, but I said that I had hadn't been able to get him to wake up and pee. "Oh, sorry about that," Mr. Wallinger said. "My wife didn't give the entire instructions. George is a very sound sleeper. You can't wake him up. Just take him to the bathroom, pull his pajamas and underpants down, aim him at the toilet, and then say 'Pee'. He will then say 'Pee" a few times, and then he will go." I guess I looked shocked because Mr. Wallinger continued, "Let me explain. When we were trying to potty train George we would pick him put from bed before he wet and set him on the potty, and say 'Pee'. When he did we would give him a cookie, if he was awake by that time, but most often he peed while at least partially asleep. We did the same every hour during the day, too. It's close to the same way I train my hunting dogs. Pretty soon he would pee on the command 'Pee'. We didn't need to wake him up, just aim him and say 'Pee' and he seemed to hear. His pediatrician says he has a very pliable mind, whatever that means". That was great, I thought! When I have sons I was going to train my boys the same way! I had stumbled onto the command the night George wet his pajamas; I just didn't know it! I could hardly wait to try it out again! Before they went to bed and George was not in the room, I asked Christine about George's wetting. She said he doesn't wet the bed; he gets up while still asleep, and then can't find the bathroom because he is asleep, and wets his pajamas. That night at 11:00 I got George up and walked him to the bathroom. When we got to the bathroom he was still very much asleep so I pulled his pajamas and underpants down, aimed him, and said, "Pee!" After he so of said "Pee" a few times he peed, all over the toilet seat and lid, and finally, after I adjusted him better, in the toilet too. I was amazed! I couldn't get it out of my mind. What about daytime? Would he wet his pants if I said "Pee" to him when he was awake? Would he wet his bed if he was in bed when I said "Pee"? I had to find out! But I ended up waiting a while before I could find out. About three months later I had my best chance. The Sadowski kids were sick so their parents stayed home, and Christine was staying over at another friend's house, so I only babysat George when the Wallingers went out that night. I was worried he might tell his parents what I was doing if he figured it out, so I had thought long and hard about how I would explain why I said "Pee" to him after I did it. I had it all planned out. First we had some pop to drink. He wasn't allowed pop in the evening for obvious reasons, so it could be used as a bribe in part and also to get the pee going, too. About 20 minutes later I suggested we play a guessing game. I would write something down and he would try to guess it, and then he would think of something and I would try to guess. After a while of doing this he started to get fidgety. I figured he was primed and this was my chance. "I bet you can't guess my middle initial in three guesses," I said. "Sure I can," said George, "G?" "No," I said. "R?" "Yeah, that's it," I lied. How did you guess, can you read minds?" "Yep," George said, "I can read your mind. Now guess my middle initial." "You better sit there and not think of anything or I will read your mind, too," I said. I let him sit there a little bit trying not to think of anything and then I leaned over and in a loud voice I said "Pee!" The effect was immediate. A shocked look came over George's face, he grabbed his dick, and he ran from the family room and into the bathroom. When he finally came out a couple minutes later I asked him what was the matter and he said, "I really had to pee." he took the towel from in front of his pajamas and there was a really big wet spot with a trickle down one leg; ".you won't tell them will you? My dad gets really mad sometimes," he moaned. IT WORKED! IT REALLY WORKED! I MADE HIM PEE HIS PANTS AND HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW IT WAS INTENTIONAL! "No, George, I won't tell them. In fact, lets quick take them off, rinse them, and put them in the dryer. Then you can wear them to bed and they won't know." His eyes lit up and he took off his pajama bottoms and underpants and handed them to me. With no pants on he led me to the laundry room and watched as I rinsed the wet spots and then put the pajamas and underpants in the dryer. He wanted to put on other underwear, but I told him they would know if he wore another pair, so for the next half hour he sat and watched TV with no bottoms on. By the time they were dry it was time for bed. He put them on and I put him to bed without suggesting he try to pee. I had planned to wait until the next babysitting job for my next experiment, but I was so excited about how well the one had worked I wanted to try the next one that night, too. I waited until about 11:30 so I knew he would be asleep and ready to pee. I made sure he was asleep and that the bed was dry, and then said quietly to him, "I like to wet my bed. I want to wet my bed." George mumbled something in response. I said it again and he mumbled something back. The third time I tried I was pretty sure he was repeating what I told him, so I then said, "Pee." Like before, he said, "Pee" a few times. I carefully reached under the blanket and HE WAS WET! HE HAD PEED! IT WORKED AGAIN! I then pushed my luck and three times said to George, "I like sleeping in a wet bed." He mumbled something back to me each time and I left his room. When his parents came home I told them he wouldn't go for me at 11:00 but I heard him at 11:30, and when I got to his room he was wet and already back in bed. They seemed to accept that. They paid me and I went home. If his father could train him to pee on command, I was hoping to train George to be a bed wetter. From that point on, every time I babysat them I said the same thing to George in bed when he was asleep (making sure his sister down the hall didn't hear) and then made up something to explain to his parents why he was wet again. Whether or not I would get him to wet on his own, I really didn't care, because I got a real thrill each time I made him wet his bed. The following summer I was babysitting on Alan and Andy Sadowski. As I was getting ready to give them their bath and Alan pointed to a sleeping bag hanging over the tub and he said, "Me and a bunch of friends had a sleep over last night and George wet his sleeping bag again." The next time I babysat at the Wallingers they didn't say anything, but George's mattress now had a plastic sheet on it, and Christine was happy to point out that the second pair of pajamas next to his bed were for me to put on George when he wets. IT HAD WORKED! HE WAS WETTING THE BED ON HIS OWN! Only later did I think, Boy I am a bastard for doing that. The Novacks lived next door to the Wallingers. They had six kids, two girls and four boys (the order was girl, boy, girl, boy, boy, boy) less than a year apart. Tommy was the oldest boy, and Billy was the next oldest boy. I don't remember the other kids names at this point. I only babysat on them a few times because they didn't have much extra money to spend on going out. But the kids were hard to control so when they did go out I was the babysitter of choice. Tommy was a typical bed wetter, but none of the other kids in the family wet. Tommy had never really been dry at night, and every kid in the neighborhood knew it. Nobody teased him, though, because he was also pretty tough and you could end up with a bloody lip making fun of him. Today, if you had a kid like Tommy you would probably put him in Goodnights, pull ups, or other big kid diapers. But they weren't around then and wearing diapers was a lot less accepted then. All they did was put a plastic sheet on the mattress. The first night I babysat on them I was checking on the boys and found him soaking wet. He woke up as I was feeling the wet sheet. "Here, let me change you," I said. I could tell he was embarrassed. This was the first time I had seen him wet and he didn't like it that I saw. "No, just leave me alone," Tommy said and rolled over. "But you are wet!" "I don't care," he said. "Just go away." It turned out that was what always happened; he wet the bed and slept in it all night. Besides the bedwetting, the most interesting thing about the Novacks was the way the boys got ready for bed. They would play 'baseball' with a balled up sock and a rolled towel. I had sent the boys upstairs to get ready for bed and started hearing all this running around. When I got upstairs to see what was going on they were hiding behind the closet door. When I told them to come out two were in underpants, one was just wearing socks, and the other was just in a t-shirt. When I asked them what was going on they said they were getting ready for bed and explained they did that by playing baseball. They were in two teams of two each. One kid would pitch the sock and the batter would try to hit it. If he struck out he would take off something. If he made a hit the pitcher would take off something. Foul balls didn't count either way. Depending on how the play was made, they either got to choose what to take off or were told what to take off by the other team (I never understood how they figured this out). After two outs the teams would switch. After they were naked they would reverse the process. On the next 'out' they would start putting on clean underwear and their pajamas, one piece at a time. It took a while to get them ready for bed this way. I asked them if their parents knew about this, and they said, "Daddy told us how to do this." The girls confirmed it. I really got a kick out of watching them do this, so every time I baby sat them I always made sure to go up stairs to check on them soon after they started getting ready for bed. Once, when they were already for bed when I got there to babysit, but were really wild and needed to blow off some steam, I suggested they play baseball anyway. They said they were already in their pajamas I said, "So? What difference does that make?" They got the hint and went up stairs to play. And I soon followed. As I got to the top of the stairs I noticed a dim light coming through the other bedroom down the hall. All the houses in our neighborhood were built close together and pretty much in a line, so you could look from the upstairs bedrooms in one house into the bedroom next door, down their hallway, and into the far bedroom of your neighbor's house. The light was coming from the Wallinger's house and I could tell from the backlighting that Christine and George were watching the 'baseball' game. Christine and George didn't know I saw them and I didn't say a thing until the four Novack boys were pretty much down to underpants or nothing. Then I told them I wanted to show them something. I had them line up in the doorway facing away from next door. Then told them to turn around and wave. It was hysterical when the six kids saw each other. The Wallinger kids and I laughed as the four Novack boys ran for cover. After that, Tommy always made sure the shade was pulled and the door was closed when they played baseball. Another family I babysat for a few times one year was the Cockrans. They had three boys who were in 6th, 4th, and 2nd grades that year. After that year I think they figured their oldest son was old enough to watch the others on his own. The first time I babysat they were all ready for bed when I got there, so when it came time I just sent them to bed. The second time I babysat there the parents were going to a wedding so I got there late afternoon and had to serve the kids dinner along with the usually stuff. About an hour before bedtime I sent them upstairs to get ready for bed. Shortly Greg, the oldest, came down in his pajamas and said that Bruce and Tim wouldn't get into their pajamas. I went up stairs to find Bruce in his underwear and Tim still in his clothes. "I don't want to put my pajamas on," said Bruce. That was fine by me. They were more cute in their briefs than pajamas anyway, but telling them that was not good, so I said, "put on your pajamas, or else." With no conviction in my voice and no 'or else' to back it up it had the exact effects I wanted-he stayed in only his underpants the rest of the evening. Tim said he couldn't find his pajamas. So we looked all over the house for them without success. We went back to their room and I went to check behind the bed, which he didn't want me to do. I thought that was because he had hidden them there, but that was not the reason. As I went to get on the bed he said, "No!" But it was too late. I kneeled on the bed and it crackled. I looked behind the bed, but there were no pajamas. I turned around on the bed and sat on it. "I think I know where they are," I told the three boys as I pulled up the fitted sheet to expose the plastic sheet. "Tim, you wet them last night; they are in the wash." Tim said, "No." But the look on Bruce and Greg's faces and their snickering said I was right. I got up and said, "And were there is one bedwetter there is usually more, right guys?" Before they could say anything I squeezed Bruce's upper bunk bed mattress "crackle" and sat on Greg's lower bunk bed "crackle" and pulled back the corners! of fitted sheets to expose plastic covers. The rest of the evening both Bruce and Greg vehemently denied wetting their beds. When Mr. And Mrs. Cockran got home I told them that Tim was asleep in his clothes because we couldn't find his pajamas. She confirmed it was because he had wet last night. When I asked about the plastic sheets she said the boys were not really wetters, they just had a few accidents a year, the bigger problem was protecting the mattresses from dirt, spilled drinks, water paints, and a bunch of other stuff the boys ended up doing in or to their beds. (Darn!) I babysat on about five other families regularly and had a few occasional ones, but none of them had kids that wet, so there is no need to tell you about those kids. But the one thing that all of these kids and families had in common (those that wet and those that didn't) was that none of them knew their babysitter had a plastic sheet on his bed, too. And so did my brothers. And it wasn't to protect the mattress from spilled drinks, either. The four of us (me, Steve, Scott, and Matt) regularly wet our beds. From the time we were out of the crib until we left home, we slept in one bedroom with two bunk beds, and no matter what our parents tried, we each ended up wet about one to three times a week. Unlike many of the families I talked about above, after a while, a wet bed was no big thing at our house. By the time they were potty training my youngest brother my parents weren't even hoping to keep him dry a night-they knew it was a lost cause. And in conforming to the times, they took us out of nighttime diapers by the time we were five, even though we were still wetting at night. At first, when we would wet, we would get up, wake up mom and have her change us and the bed. But shortly, in hopes of stopping the wetting (in part) and so we wouldn't bother them (mostly I guess), my parents said we had to change our selves, and they set up a routine to deal with the wetting. So, for almost as long as I can remember this was the routine at our house: We would wear pajamas to bed, and extra pairs of underwear for each of us would be laid out in the bathroom. When we woke up wet we were not allowed to go bother our parents. Instead we would go to the bathroom, peal off the wet stuff and put it in the tub, dry off with a towel meant for that purpose, put on dry underwear, and crawl into one of our brothers' bed for the rest of the night. (And hope he didn't wet too.) Breakfast was served first thing in the morning, so we went down to eat wearing whatever we had on in bed; no changing allowed. There were four calendars in the kitchen, one for each of us. As we came into the kitchen, Mom would say "Wet" and mark a big 'W' in black marker on the day if we were wearing underpants, or say "Dry" and mark nothing if we were still wearing our pajamas. After breakfast we changed into school clothes or play clothes and nothing more was said about it. During the day she changed and washed all the wet things. She went through a lot of markers and wrote more 'W's than any other letter of the alphabet over the years. This continued until we each left home at 18 to go to college. Only once did I dare put on clothes for breakfast. When I was about 8, an older cousin, Robert, stayed with us for a week. The first night me and my brother Scott (he was 6 at the time) wet our beds. In the morning Scott, like a good little boy, wore underwear downstairs, but I was too embarrassed to do in front of cousin Robert, so I put on jeans. When I got to the kitchen Mom asked if I had wet the bed. I said "No" but my brothers said "Yes". Mom striped my jeans and underwear off of me and spanked me in front of everybody, for lying to her. Then she said, "Since you say you did not wet, go back up stairs and put your pajamas back on and come down to breakfast." Not wanting another spanking I put them on and came down even though I didn't want Robert to see me in wet pajamas. She made me wear them until they were dry, which was some time after lunch. Then I was allowed to wear only underpants the rest of the day. After that nobody tried to buck the routine. That's my confession.