I returned to Timmy’s loaded down with my sleeping bag and my dad’s huge duffel bag, ninety-five percent of which was diaper supplies. I tried to argue that it was too much, but my mom pointed out very logically that I would need another three diapers today, at least one overnight diaper (she packed two – ‘just in case’), and six diapers for tomorrow. I gave up, embarrassed that I actually needed all those diapers and plastic pants.

“You can put your stuff over there for now,” Timmy said pointing to the far corner of his room.

We did our routine thing of playing in Carl’s room for about forty-five minutes. Beforehand, his toy village had been set up for us when we arrived, but that wasn’t the case this time. Instead, there was a large stack of Lincoln logs piled on the floor. Timmy and I sat down and built and rebuilt various ‘real’ and wildly fanciful buildings. As usual, Carl sat on the window seat apparently ignoring us.

As the afternoon wore on, I became apprehensive about meeting Mr. Perals. I had seen him outside from a distance but I had never talked to him. I told Timmy that I hoped his dad wouldn’t think that I was in the way during their family outing.

“Are you kidding?” he answered. “It was his idea to invite you.” Mr. Perals turned out to be a very kind man. When he got home he spoke to Timmy and me for a few minutes about our day before changing out of his business clothes. He then went into Carl’s room. “What does you dad do in Carl’s room?” I asked. “The same kinds of stuff we do. Depending on Carl’s mood, my dad sits on the floor and plays games or maybe even tries to talk to him. Most of time Carl doesn’t pay any attention to him… you know, like the way he ignores us.”

I was beginning to understand what extraordinary parents Timmy and Carl had.

Dinner was a pretty typical affair. This was the first dinner I ate with them and I didn’t know how things worked—particularly concerning Carl. Timmy explained that he ate at the table about 50% of the time. The times when he didn’t (because he was being fussy or uncooperative), his mother would bring his meals to his room. At the table that night, I noticed that Carl’s food had already been cut up and that he wasn’t eating what the rest of had. It seems that Carl was a fussy eater and would only eat a limited number of things. He did feed himself, although rather messily.

The first crisis during my visit came shortly after dinner while Timmy and I were throwing a baseball around the backyard—I started feeling the urge to poop. The more I ran around, the more I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer.

“Can we stop for a while?” I asked.

“Do you need your diaper changed?”

“Well, uh… not exactly,” I answered. I saw a glint of understanding in his eyes.

“Well, go ahead, poop your diaper if you have to,” he urged.

“But, your mom has never changed me when I’ve been poopy,” I answered shyly.

“I’ve gotten used to it, so can you.”

A few minutes later I was ready to be changed. Timmy and I went together in search of his mother. She was doing the dinner dishes and Mr. Perals was drying.

“Mom,” Timmy announced without preamble, “Billy needs his poopy diaper changed.”

I was too embarrassed by his bluntness to look at her directly.

“I need a few more minutes to finish the dishes. Can it wait?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Mr. Perals said putting down his drying towel.

“I’ll come back and finish drying when I’m done.”

“That’s won’t be necessary,” his wife answered him. “Timmy can help me finish.”

What I had been sure was going to be a horrible experience turned out to be very pleasant. If I had thought about it logically, I would have realized that Mr. Perals was already used to taking care of Carl. (I already knew that he set time aside every day to be with Carl.) It should have occurred to me that Mr. Perals had probably done hundreds, or even thousands, of diaper changes before this moment. Anyway, Mr. Perals talked to me the whole time, asking about school and the things I liked to do. Before I knew it he was pulling my plastic pants over my clean diaper.

“There you go,” he said. “Feel better?”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Perals.”

I felt a lot better. That was also the last time I felt embarrassed about getting my diapers changed.

We were changed into our night diapers around 9:30 and we went to bed just after 10:00. I had imagined that we would talk for a while, but I was suddenly tired and fell asleep almost right away. A storm blew in during the night and woke me up. I couldn’t tell what time it was but it was still dark. A few lightning bolts lit up the room and several claps of thunder rumbled through the house before it started to rain. I wasn’t particularly afraid of thunderstorms but I still wished that Timmy had been awake. The rain started coming down heavily and I wondered if our picnic the next day would be cancelled.

I was lying awake wondering how long the storm would take to pass over when I heard the bedroom door creak. At first I thought it was Mr. or Mrs. Perals checking up on us. As the door opened I saw Carl silhouetted against the nightlight that burned in the hall. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I wanted Carl to know that I was awake.

‘”Hi, Carl,” I whispered.

He didn’t move for several seconds. Then, as if making up his mind, he ran into the room and knelt close to my sleeping bag. I unzipped the side and he silently crawled in with me. We were lying on our sides, facing each other. I reached out to put my arm around him even though I knew he hated to be touched. Instead of backing away or protesting, he clung tightly to me. I could feel his whole body trembling. I whispered soothing words to him and rubbed his back until the storm passed. Finally, he stopped trembling. About a minute later, he started squirming for me to release him. I expected him to go back to his room (I wondered if I would have to help him get back into his crib) but all he did was roll over and fall asleep. I fell back to sleep, too. The next morning the sun was shining… and Carl was still with me. I opened my eyes and saw him staring intently at me, just a few inches away from my face. I smiled at him. I want to think that he smiled the tiniest smile back at me but I can’t be sure. In any case, at that very moment Mrs. Perals walked into the room to wake us up.

“Carl! What are you doing here?”

She looked in my direction for an answer. Before I got the chance, Carl jumped out of the sleeping bag and ran into his room all the while making loud vrooming and screeching sounds. We looked at each other and laughed. I gave her a brief summary of what happened while she changed me into fresh diapers and plastic pants. After she left to take care of Carl, it occurred to me that his was the first time I had wet my nighttime diapers unconsciously, without waking up. Also, I was amazed that Timmy was still sound asleep.

At breakfast, Mrs. Perals had me repeat my story about Carl and the storm. Everyone was amazed that he had approached me like that. I was getting nervous about this experiment. I hoped that the Perals didn’t think that I could produce miracles. ****