The next afternoon, after we came back from church and lunch, my mom changed me, after which I prepared to leave for Timmy’s. I opened my dresser and saw a pile of new striped shirts similar to the ones Timmy had just gotten.

“Do you like them?” my mom asked. “Mrs. Perals told me what Timmy had asked for so I decided to get you some, too.” “Yeah,” I said, “They’re nice.” I picked one up and unfolded it. My mom had already shortened it. Just like my reaction to the changing table, I was kind of happy to have these new shirts but embarrassed by my feelings. Why was I so accepting of these babyish shirts when just yesterday afternoon I had been worried about wearing one out to the restaurant? My mom asked me to turn around so she could check the fit.

“It looks just right,” she gushed. “You’ll look so cute playing together.”

“Mom!” I complained.

I went over to Timmy’s and he noticed my shirt right away.

“Neat!” he exclaimed. “Did you get enough to wear every day? Once again I was happy and embarrassed all at once. (His question also made think that I hadn’t seen any of my old shirts in the dresser and I suddenly wondered what had happened to them. The mystery was resolved a couple of days later when they reappeared—cut down to size like my new ones.)

Fred was as horrible to us on Monday as I had imagined he would be. By the time Timmy and I arrived, all the boys in our class knew about our wearing diapers to the ice cream stand. The taunting and mockery continued all that day and into the next. I wanted to get even with him but Timmy, who was much more patient and calm than me, got me to see that we couldn’t win.

“Everything that Fred said is true,” he pointed out. The girls, with Molly in the lead, tried to come to our aid but we were at an age where getting help from girls was almost worse than getting no help at all. Nonetheless, Timmy and I appreciated the effort, although we didn’t acknowledge it at the time.

Timmy and I were ecstatically happy when Thursday, the last day of school, was over. Fred had been particularly mean to us. I would have retaliated somehow or other had it not been for my fear of the punishment I was sure my parents would mete out. Once we were back in our neighborhood, I felt safe and secure again. Within fifteen minutes of getting home, I had changed into my summer clothes—white socks, high-top Keds, striped t-shirt, diaper, and plastic pants.

Things had become very exciting since Carl spoke his first words. (They really were his first words since he remembered them!) Timmy and I were glad that school was over—and not just because of Fred’s tormenting. We anxiously looked forward to spending time with Carl. Ever since he learned to say tot dod, his mind seemed to be open to learning new words. Mrs. Perals was very strict with us, though. She didn’t want us running wild trying to teach him to say all kids of silly things. Rather, she wisely allowed Carl to tell us what he wanted to learn. At first, we spent a lot of time in his room with his toys. He particularly wanted to know about his toy village. We taught him the words for car, truck, road, and house. This is where we were when school ended.

“I wonder what Carl wants to do today,” Timmy said on the bus ride home.

“You’re not sorry you got involved in this, are you?”

“No, I like it,” I answered enthusiastically, “and, now that school is over, we’ll be able to spend a lot of time with him.” When we got back to the neighborhood, I checked in with my mom before going over to Timmy’s. After my mom changed my diaper (which I didn’t think needed changing) I was surprised that Timmy was at the kitchen door.

“Whatcha doing here?” I asked.

“Can I stay here for a while? Carl is having a really bad day.”

I was disappointed that we wouldn’t be teaching Carl.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“My mom says that Carl threw a fit while they were shopping and that he’s been sulking since they came home. I walked into his room to play with him and he started screaming at me, just like he used to do. My mom said that it would probably be better if I left.” The same thing happened the next morning and then all weekend. On Sunday, I finally asked what was going on.

“I don’t know,” Timmy answered. “My mom says that she thinks she knows, but that she won’t tell me anything until tomorrow.” I hoped that Mrs. Perals had the answer to Timmy’s problem but, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t even imagine what the problem was. Had Carl tried to learn too much and his brain got overloaded? Had Timmy and I done something to upset him? If we had, I couldn’t imagine what that was, either. An even crazier thought bothered me. If we were indeed finished working with Carl, would Timmy and I stop wearing diapers? I didn’t dare ask what he thought about the possibility but I didn’t like it. For one thing, I was really feeling good about helping Carl—stopping at this point made me feel like a deserter. The other reason was just plain crazy. I had really gotten used to wearing diapers and plastic pants. They felt comfortable and I didn’t want to give them up… ever. (I told you it was crazy.)

Monday morning rolled around and Timmy didn’t show up at my house. I asked my mom if I could go over to Timmy’s or telephone him to find out what was happening.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea. Something important must be going on or Timmy would have come over. I think you’ll just have to be patient and wait for him to contact you.”

I got the feeling that my mom knew something about all this, but she wouldn’t answer my questions. I was really getting restless when Timmy finally showed up at 11:00. I let him in and pounced on him immediately.

“Well?” I asked anxiously.

“Look,” he answered, emptying the contents of a paper bag onto the table. At first, I couldn’t tell what I was looking at until my eyes focused on what Timmy was wearing.

“Those are baby diapers!” I exclaimed.

“That’s what’s been bothering Carl,” he answered.

I looked at him blankly.

“My mom was working with Carl on Thursday morning. She figured out that he wanted to learn colors so she was teaching him simple things like blue, green, and red. Anyway, she needed to go shopping so she took Carl with her. They went into the pharmacy to buy baby powder and rash cream when Carl saw baby print diapers like these. He recognized the colors and he wanted them. Obviously, they were too small to fit him so my mom tried to get him focused on something else. She couldn’t do it and so she left the store with him kicking and screaming. That’s why he’s been so upset.”

“OK,” I answered, but I was still confused.

I didn’t know what to say next. Timmy read my confusion and took up the story again.

“My mom saw that Carl was probably going to stay upset for a long time so she went back to the store that night. The lady told her that it was possible to special-order baby print diapers in sizes for bigger kids. My mom decided to order some for Carl, for you, and for me.” I guess I must have looked horrified by the thought of wearing these infantile baby diapers.

“I know that these look really weird,” he said, “but Carl has been really happy since my mom gave them to him. When he saw that I was wearing one, too, he even laughed.”

What could I do? Of course I was going to wear them. Like I said before, I would have felt like a traitor abandoning Carl at this point.

“Well, Billy, what are you going to do?” my mother asked.

I jumped at the sound of her voice; I didn’t know that she had been listening to us.

“I guess I’ll wear them,” I answered softly.

She selected one from the table and told me to follow her upstairs since I needed a diaper change. When she pulled my plastic pants over the new diaper I saw that really babyish looking trains, airplanes, and cars were visible through the semi-transparent white pants.

“I think you should put on a solid colored t-shirt,” my mom said.

I opened my dresser and took out a yellow one.

My mom smiled. “That’s nice. You picked out a color that matches your baby diaper and one that Carl knows.”

I was crushed that mom had called my diaper a baby diaper. Come to think of it so had Timmy.

Things got back on track right away. Carl continued to learn a few words each day. He seemed to think it was especially funny to point at our baby diapers (yeah—I started calling them that, too) and identify a color or a shape. Colors and food interested him greatly. He had learned lots of words in those categories. He could point out and ask for milk, orange juice (which came out sounding like grange joos), bread, cookies, and hot dogs, of course. As for colors, he was constantly pointing to things and saying their color. This seemed to give him tremendous pleasure. And, I admit I was basking in the reflected glory of Carl’s success. As word spread around the neighborhood, Timmy and I were treated like genuine heroes. This was shaping up to be a great summer. Surprisingly, Timmy and I even started expressing preferences about which baby diapers we liked to wear most. I enjoyed one that featured rockets and airplanes over a blue background and he favored a yellow diaper covered with Loony Toon characters.

My dad’s vacation was due to come up during the second and third weeks of June. We usually went away on a trip during the first week and then spent the other week at home. I hadn’t heard my mom or dad talking about vacation plans yet so I asked during dinner one night.

“Are we going somewhere on vacation this year?” I asked.

The exchanged guilty-looking glances and my dad answered by asking me a question.

“Do you know that this year mom and I will be married exactly twenty-five years?”

I didn’t, but I said that I did.

“Well, your mom and I would like to go on a second honeymoon.”

“OK,” I said sensing where they were going with this. They obviously wanted to go on a second honeymoon alone. “What will I do?” I asked. They smiled and asked me if I wanted to stay with Timmy while they were gone.

“Isn’t Julie coming home this summer?” I wondered.

I had actually been thinking about my sister a lot since I started wearing diapers again. I knew that my mom had told her about what I was doing and I wondered how she would treat me. She had written me one letter but she didn’t make any direct reference to my diaper wearing. Her only comment had been that she encouraged me to continue “thinking about the needs of other people.”

“No, honey,” my mom answered. “She’s gotten a job near the college. She and a friend are going to move into an apartment. She wants to save up as much money as possible so that she can start graduate school in the fall. She’ll be coming home for a few days around Labor Day.”

“Back to our question,” my dad said. “Do you want to stay with Timmy and his family while we’re gone?”

“Can I really?” I asked with growing excitement. “Have they said it was OK?”

“Yes, they’ve said it was OK,” my dad chuckled. “You know that they like you a lot. They think that it is solely because of you that Carl has progressed so much.”

I blushed and said that Carl was learning because everybody was helping out.

“That may be true,” my dad answered, “but it was your insight about the diapers that started everything off.”

“When are you going away?” I asked.

“In five days. I’m taking three weeks vacation this year. Mom and I will be gone for seventeen days.” I was getting more and more excited about this plan… seventeen days with Timmy and Carl!

“Can I go back over to Timmy’s house to tell him.”

“I don’t think Mr. & Mrs. Perals have told Timmy about the plan yet,” my mom said. “I’ll call after dinner and tell them that you’ve said yes.” I almost got into trouble for bugging my mom three times after dinner to remember to call Mrs. Perals. Not two minutes after she had done it, the phone rang. It was Timmy.

“My mom and dad just told me about your staying with us. This is so cool. Did your mom and dad tell you that my dad is taking two weeks of vacation at the same time?”

“No,” I answered in surprise.

“Yes!” he confirmed. “My mom and dad are even talking about taking short overnight trips to see how Carl will handle it.” That sounded exciting, too. Things were getting better and better. I guess my mom and dad had been planning their trip for a long time because my mom didn’t seem to be doing her usual mad dash to get things ready and packed. I didn’t need to do very much to get ready to go over to Timmy’s since my wardrobe was minimal, to say the least. Two days before I was to begin my stay, I brought over about half of my diaper supplies, along with socks and shirts. I asked if I should take my sleeping bag over, too, but my mom said that “other arrangements” had been made. The Perals were given a key to our house in case I needed anything else.

My parents had an early morning flight on Monday, so I said goodbye to them on Sunday night and went over to Timmy’s. It was still light outside so we played with Carl in the yard for about an hour. Just as it was beginning to get dark, his mom called us in. Timmy had been acting a little weird and I asked him what was wrong.

“Well, I guess you’ll find out soon enough. Since Carl and I have been getting along so much better, my parents rearranged the house so that Carl and I share a bedroom. We got a big bed yesterday. It’s big enough for all three of us.”

“OK,” I said, not understanding why Timmy was making such a big deal out of it. “Is Carl OK with this?’

“Yeah, I think so,” he answered. “We slept together last night and nothing happened. I think he even liked the idea of us sleeping in the same bed.”

“Then, it really is OK. I don’t mind sleeping in the same bed with you and Carl… unless you guys snore a lot,” I teased. We went up to what had been Carl’s room and I noticed that his crib was gone. In its place stood Timmy’s changing table, but Carl’s games and toys were still there. Mr. and Mrs. Perals had accompanied us upstairs. Mr. Perals set about changing me out of a very soiled diaper and Mrs. Perals took care of Carl. When the two of us were snug in our nighttime diapers, Mrs. Perals went downstairs and Mr. Perals began changing Timmy. Carl was in a good mood and he began tugging at my arm. I assumed that he wanted me to go somewhere so I started following him.

“Wait!” Timmy exclaimed from his changing table. “Let me get my diaper changed first, then we can all go together…. Dad! Stop them!” Timmy whined.

I was already out the door with Carl and I heard Mr. Perals tell Timmy to calm down and that everything would be alright. We went across the hall into what was now Timmy and Carl’s bedroom. I guessed that Carl wanted me to see their new bed. It was dark so I switched on the light. I think that I gasped out loud when I saw it. The ‘bed’ was an oversized crib, the same size as my parents’ big bed! Carl was very pleased with himself and he giggled for several seconds. Then he climbed into the crib, over the lowered rail. He made motions that seemed to say that he wanted me to follow him. He giggled some more once I had joined him and, then, he handed me one of his teddy bears. (He had at least four or five.) A few seconds later, Mr. Perals and a red-faced Timmy came into the room.

“Let me explain,” Timmy stammered.

“You don’t need to explain,” I answered. “You already told me that Carl can’t sleep in a regular bed. I don’t mind sleeping in a crib with you guys.”

“See, Timmy, I told you that Billy would understand. He’s a very generous and perceptive boy.”

I was now the one who became red-faced. Carl fell asleep about an hour later and Mr. Perals carried him off to the crib. An additional hour after that Mrs. Perals told us that it was our bedtime, too. We went upstairs and she steered us to the changing tables.

“I don’t think I need a change,” I said.

“No, honey, I didn’t think you did. You just need to finish getting ready for bed.” she explained.

Timmy was once again looking uncomfortable and embarrassed.

“Carl doesn’t do well with blankets, especially in the summer, so there aren’t any in the crib. He wears light cotton sleepers instead.”

“Oh, so you want us to wear pajamas, too?” I asked.

“That’s right,” she agreed. Turning to Timmy she said, “Get some fresh ones for Billy, please. Yours are hanging on the hook in the closet.” Timmy opened a drawer and pulled out yellow pajamas, which he handed to his mom. In the meantime, I had removed my sneakers, socks, and t-shirt.

“Put those over there in the hamper,” she said referring to my socks and t-shirt.

I thought that it was odd that Timmy was taking so long to retrieve his pajamas from the closet. Anyway, I went back to Mrs. Perals who was still holding the pajamas. She unfolded them and that’s when I saw that they were baby sleepers, complete with enclosed feet.

“I have to wear those?” I exclaimed.

“Yes, honey,” she said gently, in an obvious attempt not to upset me.

“It still gets cool at night.” Timmy came out of the closet wearing an identical pair of sleepers.

“Here, step into these while I get Timmy buttoned up,” she said. My eyes focused on Timmy. The buttons ran up the back of the sleeper, not the front. Mrs. Perals read the surprise in my eyes and explained.

“Carl used to rip the buttons off his sleepers and play with them. I was always afraid that he might swallow one and choke. I don’t know if he would still do it, but I’d rather not take the chance.”

“But couldn’t he pull one of our buttons off?” I asked.

“Yes, he could,” she admitted, “but that would wake you up and you’d stop him from hurting himself, wouldn’t you?”

Of course, I agreed. She finished buttoning Timmy’s and my sleeper. It was funny—for days we had been going around in just our diapers and plastic pants and I hadn’t thought anything of it. Now that our diapers and plastic pants were covered, I felt like a complete fool. I knew that Timmy and I looked exactly like overgrown toddlers.

“Brush your teeth and dad will come and help you into bed,” Mrs. Perals said.

As we were putting the toothpaste on our toothbrushes I asked Timmy why his dad had to help us into bed.

“The crib rail is already raised. If we lower it now, it might wake Carl up and he gets really cranky when that happens. My dad will lift us up over the rail and lay us down gently so that the crib doesn’t shake too much.”

This revelation really made me feel like a helpless toddler. Although, I admit that, in just a few days, I started looking forward to this treatment: it felt good to be picked up and laid down in the crib, especially since he also took the opportunity to ruffle my hair and tickle me under my arms.