I fell asleep on the way home. The next time I woke up, it was morning and I was in my own bed. I must have been very tired because I couldn’t remember anything about getting there. Also, for the second day in a row, I had wet in my sleep. This made me very happy. I got up and went downstairs. My mom and dad were already in the kitchen.

“Hello, sleepyhead,” my dad said as I was still rubbing sleep out of my eyes. “Did you have fun yesterday?”

“Yup,” I answered through a yawn.

“Good. Eat your breakfast and get cleaned up. I’ll change your diapers as soon as you’re ready,” my mom said. “You’ll go over to Timmy’s while dad and I will go to church.”

I must have looked at them funny because dad added.

“You can’t go to church in just your diapers, now can you?”

“No, of course not!” I said horrified at the idea. “What will I do for school tomorrow?”

[In 1962, the Blue Laws in my state were still in effect. These prohibited department stores and other business from making sales on Sunday. There was no way that we could replace my missing pants before Monday.]

“It’s all been worked out,” she said. “You’ll just be a little late getting to school.”

Except for meals, Timmy and I spent most of the day together. During the walks back-and-forth to his house I felt completely different. Now that I realized that I liked wearing diapers I didn’t care if the neighbors saw me or not. I wished I could think of a way to discuss this with Timmy. Carl seemed to be different, too. He actually came and sat next to us while we were watching TV. I was beginning to believe Mrs. Perals—Timmy did have lots of potential to develop. These thoughts and activities kept Timmy and me from talking about something really important—what to do about school.

I woke up Monday morning feeling unprepared and worried. I was certain that the other kids would figure out pretty fast that Timmy and I were in diapers. We had only worn pants for a few minutes during our vacation but it had been long enough for us to figure out that our diaper bulges were obvious and that our plastic pants were noisy. I thought that we should try to explain the situation before our friends had a chance to work it out themselves. But how? You just can’t walk up to somebody and say, Hi, let me tell you why I’m wearing diapers and plastic pants. Maybe

Timmy had worked out a plan.

My mom got me out of bed at my usual time and I was dressed and ready by 8:00. I wasn’t sure why I had to be ready so early. The stores didn’t open until 10:00.

“Timmy will be over shortly,” she said. “I’ll deliver your diapers and other supplies to the school nurse before she gets busy and then we’ll get you guys some pants. I phoned Mrs. Carson (owner of a boys clothing store) and she said that she’s usually there by 9:00. She’ll let us in early to take care of you. If everything goes on schedule, you should be in school by 9:30.”

I didn’t see why we had to go with my mom to deliver the diapers to school. I argued that someone might see us but she dismissed my complaints and said that we would stay ‘safely’ in the car while she took care of the business inside. She parked about a block away from the school on a side street that practically no kids used. I was feeling relatively secure when everything suddenly changed.

“Oh, no, we’re parked right in front of Franklin’s house. He’s coming down his walk and he sees us,” Timmy groaned. Franklin walked up to the car and made a motion for us to roll down our windows.

“Whatcha doing sitting there?” he asked. “Not going to school today?”

“My mom has to take us on some errands. We’ll be in school later.”

“OK,” he said preparing to walk away. His eyes suddenly focused on

Timmy’s lap. “You’re not wearing any pants!” He moved slightly forward and saw that I was in the same condition. “What’s going on?” We began squirming in our seats, unable to answer, attempting to pull our shirts down further over our plastic pants. His eyes darted back and forth between us, a confused look on his face.

“It’s my fault,” Timmy admitted generously, “I got Billy into this.”

“Into what?” he asked.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to explain, but it started because of my little brother.” Timmy tried to explain. I was listened so intently to Timmy, hoping that he would come up with a good explanation that I let go of my shirt. My thickly padded crotch and plastic pants came into view just as Franklin turned back toward me. I knew that he had seen them.

“You’re wearing diapers and baby pants!” he said in a shocked voice.

“Sshh! Keep your voice down,” Timmy begged. “It’s complicated. Please don’t tell anyone.”

Franklin then saw Timmy’s diaper and plastic pants, too. He was clearly conflicted. He seemed genuinely shocked but, judging by the tiny smile that curved his lips, he also seemed to realize that he had a wonderfully juicy piece of gossip for the rest of our class.

“Please!” Timmy begged again.

I noticed my mother coming back to the car.

“There’s no time to tell you now. We promise that we’ll explain as soon as we come back. Please!” I begged in turn.

“OK,” he agreed reluctantly, “I won’t tell anyone.”

I was fuming at my mother. This was all her fault. If she hadn’t made us come with her, Franklin wouldn’t have found out. I intended to give her a piece of my mind. She sat down behind the wheel and, instead of striking out at her, I fell apart.

“Franklin saw our diapers,” I whimpered, tears filling my eyes. My mom reached out to me, but I remembered in time that I was mad at her. I pushed her away and wiped at the tears that were running down my cheeks.

“This is all your fault,” I spat out.

My mom saw how upset I was and left me alone. I was barely back under control when we arrived at Mrs. Carson’s clothing store. It was only 8:45. Timmy was uncomfortable that I had fought with my mom.

“Franklin would have found out anyway,” he said rationally. “Everybody’s going to find out.”

“But I don’t want them to!” I shouted in frustration. “They’ll all laugh at us.”

The silence that followed made me feel worse. Even my mom must have thought that our situation was hopeless. The minutes passed slowly and my mood grew more and more depressed. Finally, Mrs. Carson arrived and opened her store.

“The husky boys pants are all located in this rack, here,” she said.

“I’ll turn the lights on so you can see better.”

I was surprised that my mom was buying us husky boys sizes but I guess it made sense. She selected pants identical to the ones we had ‘lost’ at the picnic.

“Try these on,” my mom said.

Timmy and I hesitated, wondering where a dressing room was. “I don’t think you need a fitting room,” my mom joked. “I thought that you’d be anxious to cover up your diapers.” Timmy and I looked at each other and giggled. I guess we were so nervous that we weren’t thinking straight. The pants fit as well as the originals. Our plastic pants rose about three inches higher than the pants but there wasn’t anything we could do about that. I tucked my shirt in and went in search of a mirror. I hadn’t had a lot of time to how I looked in the other pants. Timmy came up next to me to look at himself as well. We sighed at our reflections in the mirror; I was barely able to hold back more tears.

“OK, let’s get these labels cut off,” my mom said. “And, while we’re here, we may as well get you some play clothes and Sunday pants.”

I think that Timmy was just as happy as me to delay our return to school for as long as possible. Our brief glance into the mirror had said it all— we were going to get killed when we went back. Even if Franklin had kept his word and not told the other kids about seeing us in diapers and plastic pants, one look at us would tell them all. Our diapers gave us a rounded look, especially in the crotch area and at our backsides. Nobody would miss the fact that it looked like we were wearing football padding.

Before we were done, Timmy and I had heavily wet our diapers.

“Mom, can Timmy and me get our diapers changed before going back to school?” I whispered.

“May Timmy and I get our diapers changed,” she corrected me. “Sorry, boys, I don’t have extra diapers with me. You’ll have to ask the nurse to help you.”

We arrived back at school during recess and managed to get to the nurse’s office without being seen. She took one look at us and knew who we were without us needing to introduce ourselves.

“Do you boys need your diapers changed?” she asked. “Which one of you is

Timothy Perals?”

Timmy identified himself.

“And you must be William Murgon.”

I agreed.

“Good, then let’s start. William, your mom said that you boys were used to having your diapers changed together. That will make things easier. Follow me, please.”

She brought us to a room that had two beds and storage cabinets.

“Under normal circumstances, you will be changed in here. Your diaper supplies have already been put into this locker. Now, take your pants off and let’s get started.”

She was very gentle. She noticed that we were both shaking with fear. She tried to calm us down but we told her that it was our friends’ reactions that we were afraid of. She tried to reassure us by saying that we weren’t the only boys in school to wear diapers and that, in any case, we had nothing to be ashamed of. Timmy asked her what other boys wore diapers and she admitted that they were all in the kindergarten or first grade. I think that she realized that this was little comfort to us. When she had finished re-diapering us, she told us that every day at the end of school, we were to come and pick up our dirty diapers and bring them home. Apparently, my mom had left a canvas bag for each of us. Recess was over and we went back to class, walking down nearly silent hallways.

“I hope our classroom isn’t this quiet,” Timmy said. “You can hear the noise our plastic pants make!”

“Yeah, I know, “ I answered nervously.

Every head turned as we entered. We knew instantly that Franklin had told. The kids began snickering and whispering as soon as they laid eyes on us. Mrs. Kellring, our teacher, tapped her pencil to restore order. “Take your seats, boys,” was all she said.

Red-faced and angry with Franklin, we took our seats. Our plastic pants ‘scrunched’ loudly as we sat. Mrs. Kellring quieted the snickering that had broken out in the desks adjacent to ours and continued with the lesson. I couldn’t focus on anything and have no idea what we did that morning. All too soon, it was time for lunch.

I was torn between running after Franklin and punching his lights out, or staying in the classroom for a while until the rest of the kids left.

Timmy joined me at my desk.

“We can’t hide here forever. We have to go to lunch,” he pointed our reasonably. “We can take care of ourselves. We just have to tell people the truth and hope for the best.”

That was much easier said than done. I don’t know how many kids openly stared at us or laughed behind our backs as we made our way to the cafeteria. We went to sit down at our usual table but our friends wouldn’t let us.

“No babies here,” Fred said unkindly.

This was devastating to me. Fred and I had shared lunch together practically every day since we were in first grade. The fact that my other friends didn’t say anything to contradict him made it all the worse. Timmy and I went outside to the far end of the schoolyard and sat against the fence to eat alone. The shunning continued for the rest of the day.

After school, we went to my house feeling pretty low. My mom changed our very wet diapers and we got down to our homework. It had been decided that we shouldn’t let Carl see us until we could give him our undivided attention. So, our new routine would be to finish our homework and then go over to Timmy’s house.

“Do we have to put our pants back on to go to my house?” Timmy asked.

“No, make yourselves comfortable,” my mom answered.

After the treatment we had received in school, I was happy that no kids lived in our neighborhood. It felt really good to walk outside in just my diapers and plastic pants.

Mrs. Perals informed us that Carl had not been very communicative today.

“I think he’s upset because his routine has changed. He got used to you guys being around all day so it’s going to take him a few days to get used to you being around only in the afternoons.”

We went up to Timmy’s room and kicked off our sneakers.

“Do you arm wrestle?” Timmy asked.

“Yeah, sure,” I answered.

We laid down on our stomachs facing each other. He won the first round and I won the second. We rested for a couple of minutes before starting the ‘championship’ round. He won. We were getting up from the floor when he poked me in the ribs, gloating that he had beat me. I jumped.

“Are you ticklish?” he asked.

“No,” I lied.

“Yes, you are,” he insisted.

“No, I’m not,” I lied again.

By then I was grabbing at his arms trying to stop him from poking me. I was beginning to laugh and it was obvious that I was very ticklish. This made him all the more determined to get me. I tripped and fell back onto the floor. He was immediately on top of me, sitting on my thighs, tickling me under my shirt. I was still trying to fight him off. In a very short time, I was laughing hysterically.

“Get off (ooh, ahh) of me, you big lug (aah, aaaahh),” I gasped.

“You lied,” he answered. “You deserve to be punished.” He continued tickling me.

“OK (guffaw), OK (gasp, guffaw). I give up. Stop! You’re making me pee my pants.”

“What pants?” he answered. “You’re wearing diapers.”

“My mom just changed me (gasp, gasp). I don’t want to wet my diaper so soon. Please, stop!” I begged.

Suddenly, Carl was kneeling next to me tickling me, too. Timmy picked him up and sat him on my stomach. Timmy then grabbed my arms and told Carl to tickle me. I was laughing so hard I was beginning to gasp for breath. Worse yet, I couldn’t hold back any more. I began soaking my diaper. Timmy laughed and teased me even worse.

“Can’t hold your pee, can you?” he taunted. “It’s a good thing that you’re not wearing pants or they’d be soaked!”

“OK, OK,” I pleaded again. “You got what you wanted. Stop, please!” I couldn’t believe how much I was wetting my diaper—it felt like it was never going to stop. My sides hurt from laughing and I was exhausted. Timmy had gotten off of me and he tried to pick Carl up off my stomach only he didn’t want to leave. He dug his knees into my sides.

“It’s OK,” I said, “leave him. I’m not leaking on your floor, am I?”

“Not yet,” he smirked.

Carl and I stared at each other for a few seconds. He seemed to be waiting for something. I reached up and tickled him under his arms. He let out a delightful childish squeal but didn’t move. I tickled him again, longer. He giggled loudly and squirmed but stayed sitting on my stomach. I continued tickling him until he was laughing uncontrollably. I was afraid of going too far and scaring him, so I eased up a little and then stopped all together. I had raised my knees up when Timmy got off of me and Carl now leaned back as he began to calm down. I don’t know how long Mrs. Perals had been watching us but she had an indescribable look on her face.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Perals, I didn’t mean to get Carl all excited…” I began to apologize.

“Oh, honey, don’t apologize. I’ve never heard Carl laugh so loudly… and for so long. It was beautiful.”

As I walked back home I realized that I felt really good about myself.

To hell with Fred and my other so-called friends— I was doing something important and I didn’t care what they thought about my diapers.