Safe to say I was on my best behaviour at my cousin’s house and my nappy remained in my mother’s handbag. My nine year old cousin Raymond got a Big Trak and I was so envious. I watched in awe as he programmed it to follow a set course and was bursting to have a go myself… but I resisted and just watched, saying how cool it was. My other cousin Susan got clothes, more clothes and a set of crimpers. She’s fourteen so wants little else. My aunt and uncle ask if I had a nice Christmas and I lie and say I did, the highlight being the Superman and Pink Panther movies. I thanked them for the gift voucher and was vague in describing the ‘clothes and stuff’ my mother had given me. ‘Practical presents’ she called them. Us three kids watched Jason and the Argonauts whilst the grown ups chatted. I cringed when I overheard Mum telling them about me getting into bother at school and how she hopes I’ll be better this coming term. The film is interrupted by a sit down dinner which is annoying, but unlike Raymond and Susan, I don’t complain. My aunt comments on how quiet I’m being. Mum tells her I’m on my best behaviour and little does my aunt know why. I’m petrified of putting a foot wrong and my very recent petticoating becomes public knowledge. Having missed some of the best bits, we watch end of Jason and the Argonauts and as its end credits scroll up the TV screen, Mum prepares to leave. Discreetly, she asks me if I want my nappy for the journey home. “No.” I murmur. “I don’t have to do I?”
“No you don’t have to.” she replied. “I was only asking. It’s here if you want it.” she said, patting her handbag. We said our goodbyes; my uncle shook my hand, my aunt hugged and kissed me and my cousins were too engrossed in watching The Krankies to even register that we were leaving.
It’s too dark to read on the journey home so I stare into the road ahead and consider my fate. With a huge pack of nappies beside my bed, a healthy stack in the glove box and one in Mum’s handbag… how long will it be before they’re ‘normal’? It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just the dress, something to wear on the odd occasion that Mum decides I should. Even my knickers aren’t so bad compared to a nappy. Even if I don’t use it (and I won’t!), just wearing one is beyond humiliating… just having them is bad enough. The pack is so big it won’t even fit under my bed so won’t be inviting any friends around for a while.
We arrive home soon after 6.00pm. I flicked on the TV and picked up the TV & Radio Times to check the schedule. Paul Daniel’s Magic Show had just started. “Can I watch Rocky?” I asked.
“No.” Mum replied, citing it going on beyond my bedtime and her wanting to watch a ballet on BBC2 as the reasons. I claimed that Rocky doesn’t end late (10.00pm), before enquiring when my bedtime is. Normally it’s ten or eleven o’clock if it’s not a school night, but in light of recent changes… “What does it say in your Pettiquette book?” she asked.
“I dunno.” I said before being prompted to find out. Ten minutes later, I’m whining because the book says that I should be in bed no later than 8.00pm and that I have to have a bath every night. “You’ll be smelly if you don’t have a bath.” she tells me.
“But I don’t need one every night.” I whined. “I didn’t have one yesterday.” I stated.
“Yesterday was Christmas.” Mum reminded me. “You stayed up a lot later than 8.00pm too.”
“But no one my age goes to bed at that time… you’re treating me like a little kid.”
“I’m treating you like a petticoated boy Timothy.”
“But why?” he knowingly whined.
“You know why.”
I didn’t bother pursuing it any further. At least I’ll be able to watch Kenny Everett, I figured. I figured wrong because no sooner it had started, Mum had me up in the bathroom where a bath oozing with bubbles waited for me. For the first time since I was about five years old, my mother proceeded to scrub my arms and hands, back and chest before washing my face and hair. Thankfully she left me to do the rest myself. I stepped out and began drying myself as the water gargled down the plughole.
“All clean?” Mum chirped as she returned. She’d fetched one of my nappies and made me pull it on in front of her. Printed on the front is a teddy bear holding a love heart. Mum described it as ‘cute’, I described it as ‘horrible’. I pull on the rubber knickers and the teddy bear design is still clearly visible through the milky transparency. Having an inch of frilly lace trim around the legs, my mother grins and tells me how pretty they look. I whine and complain that the elastic is too tight. “It’s supposed to be tight… otherwise they’d leak.” Mum told me. I trotted from the bathroom to my bedroom and wasted no time pulling on my cotton baby-doll knickers and nightie. Out of sight, out of mind… almost.