The court hearings had been more than my little five year old mind could comprehend. I had only a limited understanding of what was going on; the issues discussed so hotly by a strange woman and the Division of child and family services was all but lost upon my limited powers of comprehension. However, it was over, and I was told to go with this strange woman, whom every one kept referring to as my mother. She burst into happy teres and hugged me hard when the final decision was spoken by the judge. The judge was an austere and some what forbidding personage toward whom I had a fearful aversion. However, he showed me in no uncertain manner that I hadn't anything to fear from him, when he came down from the bench and gently ordered me to approach him. Disengaging myself from the crying woman, I timidly made my way over to him. He kneeled down on one knee, took my chin in his big hand and looked earnestly into my face. "Little chaps should be with their mommies. Don't you think so my young friend?" He asked in a soft rumble. "I have decided that you don't have to live in a special place for homeless children anymore, because you have a home, and that's where you belong." After finishing, he lead me over to the strange woman who was drying her eyes and smiling broadly. He spoke briefly to the woman about something called a drug problem and rehabilitation. He then asked us to come back and visit him in three month's time, and the strange lady agreed. After thanking the judge profusely, the lady took my hand and lead me from the courtroom. I was more than a little glad to be quit of that forbidding place, because being in there made me feel so ill at ease. The strange lady drove us to a motel, where she said we were to spend the night. I had never been to a motel before, and I gazed about me in wonder. My eyes lighted up and I squealed with delight as I spied the large screened television over in one corner. The strange lady broke into a laugh, and then for some reason began to cry again. She sat down on the bed and took me into her lap. "You have never seen one of those before have you." She said, as she pointed at the television. She laughed again, as I shook my head in the negative. I couldn't for the life of me understand why she kept laughing and crying all at the same time. I remember thinking that maybe she was crazy like my last foster mom had been.

I shuddered as my mind went back to those awful days when I had lived with the Thompsons. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson didn't have jobs; they made a living by taking in foster children as a means of supplementing their welfare checks and food stamps. Mr. Thompson was a hard drinking, hard swearing and violent man. Mrs. Thompson had a temper to match her husbands, and we foster kids lived in terror of them. Mrs. Thompson would for no reason, go into screaming rages, at which time one or more of we kids would receive a sound beating or at least a series of hard slaps across the face. I can still remember the feel of her hard thin fingers twining them selves into my hair, as I saw her other hand through my frightened teres poised to strike. The shear unpredictability of an abusive tirade from either of the Thompsons kept all of us in a state of apprehension. We tried so hard to be good, but the abuse continued no matter what we did to avoid it.

I shook my head several times in order to try and rid myself of those memories, and looked up into the strange woman's eyes. She looked concerned as she gazed down into my up turned face. "What's wrong baby? Did mommy frighten you?" She hugged me close, and kissed the top of my head. She cheerfully suggested that we go out for hamburgers and ice cream. I brightened at the suggestion, jumped down from her lap and headed for the door.

After a fabulous meal, the likes of which would brighten the heart of any kid, we went to see Snow white and the Seven Dwarves. That was the night that I discovered Walt Disney along with something else much more wonderful. By the time we arrived back at the hotel, I was tired and sleepy. I don't know at which point I seised to fear the strange lady who kept calling me her baby, but I was able to sink into a contented sleep, and all fears were gone far far away.

I awoke as usual in a wet bed, and the same old terror filled me as I lay next to the sleeping form of the strange lady. Thoughts of beatings, slaps across the face and having my nose violently rubbed in my own pee swam through my mind, as the lady began to awaken. She sighed sleepily, stretched and started with the realization that she was laying in a wet bed. I stiffened involuntarily, because I was all too used to the consequences of waking in a wet bed. It is true that she didn't spank me when I had wet my pants in the theater, but we had just met. Maybe she wouldn't be so nice about my accidents this time. After all, she was wet too, and I fully expected the storm to break at any minute. "You had another accident didn't you." There was no rage nor contempt in her voice; there was only a measure of gentle concern as she spoke softly to me. "I'm sorry; I can't help it some times." I said timidly. The lady then rose from the bed, took me into the bathroom, and washed us both. After the wet sheets had been taken from the bed, and we both were dressed for the day, the strange lady sat down to read the papers which she had been given as we left the courtroom the day before. "I should have read this file before." She commented half to me and half to herself. "So you have always had a wetting problem." She paused for a moment in her perusal and took me into her lap, and resumed her reading. "They aren't sure why you have trouble holding your peepee. The pediatrician says that you have a malformed bladder, and the child psychologist thinks that you might not have been fully potty trained. Mommy will take you to a doctor when we get home, but for now we better get you some diapers, because you are wearing your last pare of pants." She spoke matter of factly as she replaced the papers into their folder. She then packed our few belongings, checked us out of the motel, and we were on our way.

I had never been inside a Walmart before, and I was more than a little bedazzled by the hundreds of shelves piled high with all manner of strange objects the likes of which I had never seen in my short life before. I found all of the sights and sounds to be a bit more than a little disconcerting as I was lead through all of the bustling activity to the baby isle. I particularly liked this section of the store, because of the especially wonderful sights and alluring smells emanating from the countless brands of what I knew were packages of diapers. The strange lady selected two large packages of pampers, several bottles of Baby Magic Lotion and two bottles of Johnson's Baby Powder. The items which she placed into the shopping cart reminded me of the orphanage where I had lived for a few months before being remanded over to the foster care administration in Washington state. the orphanage was owned by a Benadictine convent, and the nones there had been kind and understanding. I was never punished for my accidents; upon my arrival at the orphanage, I was straightway put into diapers. I could still remember the smell of the baby powder and the wonderful smell of the diapers. I well remembered the feel of the bulk between my legs, and I smiled involuntarily at the recollection of the many diaper changes. Short though it had been, my stay at the Benadictine orphanage had been the happiest time of my life. I was suddenly brought back to the present when the strange lady lifted me out of the front of the shopping cart, laid me on a nearby changing table, unfastened my pants and pulled them down along with my underwear. She briskly opened one of the packages of pampers, withdrew it and proceeded to diaper me right in the middle of the store. She seemed oblivious to the passing stairs which we were receiving from the other shoppers. After she had taped my pamper into place, she drew up my pants, lifted me down from the table and replaced me in the shopping cart. Just like that, and with no fuss, I was back in diapers. After purchasing a few more items, we left the huge store, and we were on our way.

The trip home was a long one, lasting a full day and a half. I am not sure when it was that I began calling the strange lady Mommy, but by the time we reached home, she was no longer the strange lady to me. She kept talking about what a wonderful life we were going to have together, and she tried several times to explain why she had not been able to be my mommy before. Much of what she had to say made little sense to me, but I liked the sound of her soft earnest chattering as we drove along. She would check my diaper every time we stopped for gas, and change me if I was wet. At some time during our trip home, all of my fears of punishment seemed to just float out the car window along with the memories. A child instinctually knows when they are among loving adults, and they some how know whether or not they can trust them. by the end of our first day on the road, I had lapsed into a state of contentment and excited anticipation of what was to come. Mommy seemed to undergo a slight change by the end of the day as well.

By the time we stopped for the night, she had begun treating me as a baby; I remember her saying that she had never known me as a baby, and now she was going to make up for those lost years. I at first enjoyed this superabundance of attention just as any little boy would, but I eventually found myself gradually slipping into an infantile state of mind, as I began to unconsciously let go of the past. Letting go of everything was a gradual, gentle and wholly effortless thing for me; it seemed rather like floating upon a big soft cloud of relief, peace and happiness. I enjoyed being hand fed my supper while sitting in mommy's lap. Although I was a boy of five years, holding me on her lap with one arm, and simultaneously eating her own meal whilst feeding me mine seemed perfectly natural to both of us. The passing stares of sympathy from the other patrons in the restaurant were of little consequence to us. Doubtless they thought me mentally deficient, as their quick glances, discrete comments to one another and averted gazes seemed to imply. After supper, we returned to our room, where mommy undressed me, removed my sodden diaper and lead me into the bathroom. I didn't even offer the predictable boyish protest as mommy placed me into the tub of warm water and bathed me thoroughly. After draining the bathtub, mommy lifted me out, gently toweled me dry and lead me back into the bedroom. She then laid me on the bed and diapered me for the night. Since I had no pajamas the diaper was all that I had on, and this caused me not the slightest sense of discomfort, as I curled up happily to watch television with my new found mommy. I loved the smell of my diaper, and its comfortable reassuring bulk between my legs. I also loved the sound which it made every time I moved. Before long, all of my pleasant thoughts and feelings began to blend with the sound of the television, as I lay in mommy's arms, and it was suddenly morning. I opened my eyes with a start, and looked about me for a dazed moment before I was able to collect my thoughts and realize where I was. I started in surprise at the feel of warm dry sheets beneath me, and I stretched to my full length on the bed with a contented sigh. It was then that I felt the damp heavy bulk of a very wet diaper between my legs, and I wriggled involuntarily at the deliciously pleasurable feel of it. Mommy emerged a few moments later from the bathroom with her over night bag in her hand. She was already fully dressed for the day, and she greeted me brightly when she saw that I had finally awakened. She untaped my wet diaper and lead me into the bathroom, for a quick sponge bath with a damp rag and some baby wipes. She then brought me back into the bedroom and diapered me for the day. After dressing me and putting our bags into the car, we were on our way once more for home.