Except for a couple of the boys who dared to say hello to us, we were permanently shunned in school. At home, though, Timmy and I felt wonderful. Carl was becoming more and more social, more and more communicative. He sometimes waited for us to come home and eagerly joined us in whatever games we chose to play. He even started going outside to play in the front and back yards. Mrs. Perals was delighted that he was vocalizing more. He wasn’t actually saying words, but he did make sounds to express things other than frustration or anger. Timmy and I didn’t actually understand what it all meant but we knew that it was something big and important—and that we were contributing to it. Our afternoons with Carl were fun. We did a lot of playing in his room and outside. Playing in the yard was a novelty for him. He had always been afraid of going outside but it seemed that Timmy and I had reassured him that it was safe. He loved to have us chase him around the yard and catch him. He giggled in delight when we scooped him up and spun him around. Mrs. Perals was amazed that he let us touch him as often as we did. Even more incredibly in her eyes, he initiated some of the touching himself. For example, if we were inside his room playing with his toy village, he might snuggle up to one of us and lean on us. Sometimes he would even sit on our laps and let us rock him back and forth.

Even though he was making a lot of progress there were still times when Carl wanted to be left alone. On those days, Mrs. Perals asked us to follow the same routine; that is, to play in the yard, watch TV, and act as normal as possible. She hoped that these activities would entice Carl to join us. Timmy and I eventually concluded that this didn’t work. If Carl didn’t come out of his room to greet us when we got home, he wouldn’t come out later.

Whichever way it went, Timmy and I always managed to have fun. In fact, it was on those days that Carl didn’t join us that we got to know each other. Sometimes we would sit quietly and talk. We eventually exchanged a lot of secrets, starting with our desire to stay in diapers for as long as possible. From that point onward there was practically nothing that we wouldn’t share with each other.

The school year was winding down fast, but not fast enough for Timmy and me. We were the constant butt of jokes and other harassments, even after it became generally known why we were in diapers. That my former friends were the ringleaders was particularly distressing to me. But, there were many good things going on, too. Timmy and I had become the best of friends and Carl was developing an increasing number of social skills. However, certain things hadn’t changed. He still needed the security of very rigid routines, including Timmy and me having our diapers exposed all the time in front of him. (One afternoon, we made the mistake of trying to play with him with our pants on and he had a gigantic fit. It took two days for him to get completely over it.)

We were getting close to summer and the evenings were getting longer. We spent a lot of time outside, with or without Carl. We considered our neighborhood a safe shelter where we were completely accepted in our diapers. The neighbors even went so far as to praise us frequently for what we were doing. Neither Timmy nor I gave our diapers a second thought when we were at home. It had been weeks since either of us had worn pants when going back and forth to each other’s house. Compared to school, this was heaven and we made the most of our freedom.

Getting to run around all weekend in our diapers was especially fun. After our Saturday chores or Sunday morning church services, we were essentially free to play as we wanted, as so long as we made an attempt to include Carl. On the first real hot Saturday, we tried to introduce Carl to the fun of running through the sprinkler. Dressed in only our diapers and plastic pants Timmy and I had a ball. Carl was very timid and only occasionally came close enough to have water splash on his legs and plastic pants. Eventually, this game degenerated for Timmy and me and we started sticking the hose down each other’s diapers until they became so waterlogged they were ready to fall off. Mrs. Perals made us completely undress outside before she let would allow us into the house to get fresh diapers.

Since it was late in the afternoon, she insisted that we take a bath together before she re-diapered us. I felt a little funny about that but it was Mrs. Perals who told us to do it. Timmy ran off to the bathroom so I followed him. He filled the tub and we got in facing each other. Mrs. Perals gave us each a washcloth as said that she would check on us in a few minutes. Timmy took down some toy boats from a shelf above the tub.

“Carl and I play with these when I give him a bath,” he giggled, zigzagging the first of the boats towards me.

I took the boat from him and we did what boys do: we made it a competitive thing. We tried to outmaneuver and ram each other. Our rambunctious play drew Mrs. Peral’s attention.

“Honestly!” she said, gently scolding us. “I thought you could at least take a bath without being watched. You haven’t even started!” She picked up a bottle of baby shampoo and told us to get our hair wet. We simultaneously ducked under the water and crashed together. A big wave ran up and down the length of the tub nearly spilling over to the floor.

“That’s enough of that,” she said in exasperation. “Now, sit still… both of you.”

She lathered up my hair and told me to sit quietly with my eyes closed while she tended to Timmy’s hair. He complained about her rough treatment, which caused her to tell him to stop acting like a baby. I snickered and he kicked me under the water. “Stop laughing. You didn’t just practically get your eye poked out,” he complained.

Mrs. Perals snorted. I heard her turn on the water and then felt warm water from the shower hose rinsing off my hair. I really liked the feeling of the water and her fingers massaging my scalp. I opened my eyes and watched as she rinsed off Timmy.

“What did you do with the washcloths I gave you?” she asked. We each found one. She told Timmy to wash his feet and legs. She took the washcloth I held and lathered it up and started on my face, ears, and neck. She then tended to my arms, hands, torso, and back. When she was finished she told me to take care of the rest of myself while she tended to Timmy’s upper body. He whined constantly about her rough treatment. I couldn’t see what he was complaining about. I thought she was being very gentle with us. When she was satisfied, she pulled the stopper and told us to stand up so that she could rinse us off. I was quite embarrassed by her request until I noticed that Timmy was also showing a good deal more excitement than usual. We dried off were to told to go Timmy’s room to be diapered by his dad.

I led the way to his bedroom and was surprised to see that Carl’s changing table had been moved. Carl let out an excited gasp.

“Is this really mine?” he asked.

“Yes, it is,” his dad smiled. “Mom and I wanted to surprise you. We were afraid that you would see the deliverymen but you were having too much fun playing in the sprinkler, I guess. Do you like it?”

“Yes!” he answered without hesitation. “Thank you.”

“Well, hop on and try it out!” his dad encouraged.

Timmy jumped onto the diaper that had already been laid out for him. I felt envious that he had a changing table and that I didn’t. Then, I blushed at the realization that I actually wanted one. This was so weird.

“OK, your turn,” Timmy said to me.

I lied down on the diaper and Mr. Perals began powdering me. Timmy knelt right next to the table, examining its shelves and drawers.

“This is so neat!” he exclaimed, barely able to rein in his excitement.

“Yes,” his dad answered, “now you have plenty of room for your diapers and plastic pants. I expect to see your room more organized in the future.”

“Aw, dad” Timmy objected, “it wasn’t that bad!”

“Well,” Mr. Perals answered, “I guess it wasn’t all your fault. Anyways, now you have plenty of storage space.”

I got off the table and examined it more closely. I should have immediately noticed that this wasn’t Carl changing table. Carl’s was white and this one matched Timmy’s pine furniture. Also, it was bigger and had more shelves and drawer space. I guess I hadn’t realized how many diapers Timmy (and, presumably, I) had. There were at least three dozen diapers on the shelves and the same number of plastic pants visible behind the glass doors of the side cabinets. “Your daytime plastic pants are in the cabinet on the left, and your nighttime ones on the right. Powder, pins, diaper rash cream, and other supplies are in the drawers along the top,” Mr. Perals explained. Timmy giggled and thanked his dad for the surprise. For my part, I was still amazed at how jealous I felt that I didn’t have a nice changing table like this in my bedroom.

“Finish getting dressed,” Mrs. Perals added. “We’re going out to eat.”

“Where are we going?” Timmy asked.

“Nothing special. Just to Hayward’s and then maybe we’ll stop for ice cream on the way home. Get a clean shirt and some socks for Billy. Hurry and get dressed—mom is almost finished giving Carl his bath.”

“Umm …, I’ll have to call my mom,” I pointed out.

“All taken care of,” Mr. Perals answered. “Mrs. Perals talked to your mom this afternoon.”

My mind was racing. Were we going to wear pants? Probably not, I thought. The only other time Timmy and I had gone around publicly (outside of our neighborhood) in just our diapers and plastic pants had been at the Chicken Farm, a restaurant nearly fifty miles away. Hayward’s was a drive-in restaurant only a couple of miles from our neighborhood. Would we be eating in the car? Probably not, I again thought.

Carl was a very messy eater so we would have to eat at one of the outside picnic tables. Would we run into kids that we knew? Almost certainly, I groaned inwardly. I was very getting nervous about this outing.

“Can we wear my new summer shirts?” Timmy asked.

“OK,” his dad agreed, “but don’t take all day picking them out.” Mr. Perals left and we put on our white socks and high-top sneakers.

“Do you think your parents will let us wear our pants?” I asked.

“Only if they’re in the mood to listen to Carl screaming the whole time. Why do you ask?”

“We’re going to Hayward’s. Don’t you care that other kids will probably see our diapers?” I whined.

“Yeah, but…” Before Timmy could answer, his dad came back into the room.

“OK, guys, enough talking. Mom is almost finished dressing Carl. Get a move on.”

“See,” Timmy continued. “We don’t have a choice anyways. So, why worry?

“Here,” he said opening one of the dresser drawers, “pick a shirt you like.”

There was a collection of a half-dozen brand new striped t-shirts for me to choose from. I selected a multi-colored blue and green one; he chose a red and yellow one. I put it on and immediately noticed that it felt funny. I looked over to Timmy and saw that his shirt barely reached the top of his plastic pants… the same as mine!

“Aren’t these neat?” he asked. “I hate wearing shirts in the summer but my mom makes me because she says I’ll get too much sun. So. I convinced her to cut them short like she does for Carl. Great idea, huh?” He sounded so enthusiastic that I didn’t want to contradict him. But, I did make a mental note to keep plenty of my shirts handy all summer long. They would cover up at least half of my plastic pants.

I was dismayed to see how crowded Hayward’s was. There was bound to be someone there from school who would know us. My knees began shaking. Timmy startled me when he leaned over and touched my leg. “It’s OK,” he whispered, “my parents won’t let anything bad happen.” I didn’t get the chance to explain that I wasn’t worried about what would happen in the next few minutes—I was worried about what would happen in school the following week. I cautiously got out of the car and looked around. People were staring at us but I didn’t notice anyone I knew. Mrs. Perals held Carl by the hand and led him to a nearby picnic table. The rest of us followed.

“OK,” Mr. Perals asked, “who wants a hot dog and who wants a hamburger?” Mrs. Perals asked for a hamburger.

“I want a hot dog,” Timmy said.

“Me, too,” I added.

“Tot dod,” a crisp little voice said.

We were all stunned. Had Carl really meant to ask for a hot dog or was he just making random sounds?

“Do you want a hot dog, too?” Mrs. Perals asked Carl.

“Tot dod, tot dod, tot dod,” Carl repeated while simultaneously banging the table.

Mr. & Mrs. Perals looked at each other and smiled.

“Well, why not? Let’s try it,” Mr. Perals said. “Three hot dogs and two hamburgers it is. I need you guys to come and help me,” he added to

Timmy and me.

Timmy looked as surprised and worried as me that we had to go to the ordering window. Mr. Perals sensed our discomfort and walked between us, draping one arm over each of us and holding us closely by his side. I didn’t care if it looked babyish; I felt protected. The only slight problem was that our plastic pants made loud swishing sounds as they rubbed up against Mr. Perals pants.

We had to wait about five minutes in the ordering line. Once again, I felt like we were the center of attention with people staring at us and whispering. We were next in line when Molly Hamston, a girl in our class, spotted us.

“Hi, Billy. Hi, Tim,” she greeted us. She was dressed in a bathing suit.

“We’re coming back from a day at the lake. What did you guys do today?”

“Nothing special,” Timmy answered. “We played around the house with my brother.”

“That’s nice,” She paused for a couple of seconds. “I think that you ought to know that all the girls in the class think that you guys would be really nice brothers to have. I mean, the way you’re trying to be helpful. We don’t think any of our brothers would do nearly as much to help any of us.”

I was feeling shy but happy all at once. She didn’t make any teasing or humiliating references to our diapers and she had complimented us. Timmy and I beamed with pride.

“And,” Mr. Perals added, “we think that Carl spoke his first words just now… a few minutes ago.”

“Really!” Molly exclaimed.

“Yes,” Mr. Perals said wryly, “hot dog… or his version of the words.”

Molly giggled.

“Well, I guess that’s better than Timmy’s first word: no,” he said, gently tousling Timmy’s hair and chuckling.

Molly giggled again. Timmy turned red in the face and was on the point of objecting when it was our turn to order.

“See you Monday,” Molly called as she went back to her family’s table.

“She seems like a very nice girl,” Mr. Perals commented.

“Yeah,” we agreed wholeheartedly.

We brought the food back to the picnic table. Carl was already wearing his bib and still chanting tot dod. I wondered if Mrs. Perals was sick of hearing it, but she simply smiled at us as we approached.

“Let’s test this out,” Mr. Perals suggested.

Everyone looked at him quizzically. He took one of the hamburgers and placed it on the table in front of Carl. Carl became agitated and pushed it away. Mr. Perals replaced it with a hot dog. Carl giggled and picked it up. Tot dod, tot dod, he began chanting as he picked it up and showed everybody. This was astonishing. Carl had associated an object with words! Mr. & Mrs. Perals smiled at each other through their tears. Carl kept on chanting tot dod, tot dod even as he ate.

“This is an answer to a prayer,” Mrs. Perals said. “I can hardly believe it.”

“Yes, dear,” Mr. Perals said, “but let’s not jump to conclusions. We’ll have to see if Carl retains any of this.”

“I know,” she responded, “but in my heart I feel it. This is real. We’ll need to stop at the supermarket on the way home to pick up some hot dogs and buns. I want to test Carl at lunch tomorrow.” Everyone was so excited that I wondered if they would forget that we were supposed to stop for ice cream on the way home. My fear was unfounded; Mr. Perals drove us directly to the drive in. Once again, Timmy and I piled out of the car and Mrs. Perals and Carl saved us a table. Timmy and I got double-scoop ice cream cones while Mrs. Perals bought ice cream in a cup for everyone else. Carl was still chanting tot dod but he gladly accepted the ice cream. I wondered if this meant that he had already forgotten what the words meant.

We finished our treat and headed back to the car. Timmy suddenly stopped. He was staring at something across the parking lot. I followed his gaze and gasped. Fred, who had gone from being my main friend to being our chief tormentor, was smiling at us. It wasn’t the least bit amiable; it sent a chill down my back. I sensed that Timmy felt the same way. We looked at each other and, had we been alone, probably would have said a dirty word to each other. Mr. Perals called to us, saying that everyone was waiting. We looked back toward Fred who was now laughing out loud as he stared at us. Timmy and I were quiet on the way home knowing that we were in for a lot of trouble on Monday. We consoled ourselves with the thought that next week was the last week of school and we would be rid of Fred at least for the summer.

As soon as we got back to Timmy’s I was anxious to go home and tell my parents about Carl’s first words.

“That’s marvelous!” my mom exclaimed. “You and Timmy should be very proud of everything you’ve done for Carl. I’m sure he’s going to learn a lot more from both of you.”

I wasn’t sure that that was true, but I felt good that she thought so.

“”I see that you’re wearing one of Timmy’s summer shirts. Do you like it?”

This caught me off guard.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said without really thinking about it.

“Good. I’ve gotten some for you, too.” Once again, I realized that I had trapped myself. But, I did like how much cooler it was wearing this shirt. I decided that it would be OK to wear this kind of shirt all summer. Everybody in the neighborhood had already seen me in diapers. What difference would it make if they saw three or four more inches?

“It’s getting late,” my dad said. “I think it’s time to get you into your night diaper.”

“Yes, you need a change anyway,” my mom added. They both began walking with me to my room. I admit that I was beginning to enjoy the extra attention my diapers were getting me, but I thought it was odd that my mom and my dad were going to change me together. We walked into my room and I stopped in my tracks. It had been rearranged to accommodate a changing table just like Timmy’s. The happiness I felt was expressed in the smile I flashed to my parents. I thanked them enthusiastically and then got embarrassed. How could I be happy about such a thing? I was only wearing diapers because I was helping Timmy to learn. I shouldn’t get excited about seeing my diapers and plastic pants neatly arranged in a piece of furniture that belonged in a nursery. My parents sensed my conflicted feelings.

“It will really help us a lot if you agree to use it,” my dad said. “The height will make it much easier for us to change your diapers.”

“And, your room will be a lot easier to keep tidy,” my mom said encouragingly. “Now your diapers and plastic pants won’t have to be piled everywhere.”

I tried to look at least a little bit reluctant but I think they knew that I really liked it. I accepted the fact that I was becoming really weird.