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The following weekend went smoothly with Howard toeing the line to his “Mommy’s” wishes. By Sunday, he had become so used to talking like a toddler that the broken syntax and mispronounced words of early childhood had become second nature to him. Anita got him up and tsk-tsked his wet training pants as she got him out of his youth bed. She changed his underwear and damp bedlinens before allowing him to go to his customary breakfast of Ovaltine and oatmeal. Howard ate quickly, then scampered off to watch Sunday morning cartoons on the TV after Anita wiped his face and hands with the paper towel he wore as a bib. Howard sat in front of the TV with his thumb in his mouth seemingly enchanted by the cartoon antics of a group of diapered children. Howard was comfortable on the floor, Anita had laid out an old blanket as padding and to serve as a carpet protector in case he had an “accident” while watching TV. She had stopped trusting his ability to discern whether he was wetting his pants when he was engrossed in his cartoons. Often she would come in the family room to find him sitting in a puddle, completely oblivious to the soggy condition of his training pants. Howard had become so accustomed to the weakened condition of his bladder that when he did notice his wet pants, he would shrug indifferently and continue watching TV. Anita would come in the family room sooner or later and change him when she discovered his newest “accident”. Howard had stopped asking Anita to dress him in anything other than his underwear. He would spend his weekends toddling around the house garbed in nothing more than his customary diaper-padded skivvies without giving his constant state of relative undress a moment’s thought. His life as a semi-continent toddler had become routine.
Later that morning, Anita received a short phone call and began picking up the house the minute after she put the handset on the receiver. It wasn’t until he smelled the inviting aroma of a second pot of coffee brewing in the kitchen that he realized that Anita had made special plans for that day. He asked her why she was making more coffee and was informed that one of her friends from work would be dropping by for a visit. When Howard found out about Anita’s visitor, he demanded that she dress him in a pair of pants for propriety’s sake before the woman arrived. Anita chuckled and told him in syrupy, conciliatory tones that he no longer had any modesty to protect. She pointed out that with his current size, her friend would assume that he was three and one-half years old and that dressing him for her visit would only serve to call attention to him. Anita went on to say that it was strange for a mother to dress her child up at home if the weather was warm and that with summer coming on, her friend would surely become suspicious if he was overdressed for her visit. Anita said in no uncertain terms that in order for her to keep her job, he must maintain the charade of being her little boy. Howard agreed reluctantly and went back to watching cartoons. About an hour later the doorbell rang and Anita went to get the door. She returned a few minutes later escorting a kindly-faced, matronly looking brunette woman who was dressed in a smart but severe, navy blue pants suit. Anita brought her into the family room and introduced Howard to her friend Fran as her “adopted nephew”. Howard was mortified when the woman came over to him and patted him on the head, saying, “What an adorable little boy he is! I see that he’s still in training pants, does he still have ‘accidents’?”
“Oh, yes,” Anita replied with a tolerant smile, “I’m beginning to wonder if he’ll ever be potty trained. You should have seen how he acted when I bought a potty chair for him. You’d have thought I was forcing him to do something awful from the way he acted when I made him use the potty instead of his pants. Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do with him!”
“Don’t you like your potty chair, Sweetheart?”, asked the woman patronizingly.
“No!”, replied Howard in a firm tone and turned his attention back to the cartoon.
“Well,” her friend said with a sly smile to Anita, “There are always diapers to fall back on! Boys take a little longer to potty train than girls.”
Anita paused for a moment to see if Howard would take the bait, but Howard remained mute. Anita smiled at her friend and said to explain why she wasn’t inclined to do the obvious and put him back in diapers, “He’s a little old for dydees. If you’d seen the way he reacted to his potty chair, you wouldn’t suggest diapers. He’s happy in his training pants.”
Fran patted Howard on his well-padded bottom and said ingratiatingly, “At least he doesn’t make messes in his pants like a baby!”
Anita smiled in return and said, “Oh, he does that too! Don’t you, Howie?”
Howard’s glower of displeasure deepened at Anita’s admission of his infantile lack of bowel control, but he remained silent.
Fran frowned in concern and said, “Oh Dear, maybe you should re-consider diapers then. Perhaps he’s not ready to be potty trained. How old is he?”
“He’s a little over three, I think. Maybe you’re right. I’ve heard of little boys that are five before they’re fully potty trained,” Anita said.
Fran nodded sagely and said, “That’s not unusual these days. In fact, there’s a fair percentage of six and seven-year-olds who still haven’t been potty trained. I wouldn’t worry about him. A three-year-old is still a baby. If he needs diapers, by all means use them! Don’t let him stop you! You’re the mommy in this house. Who cares what he thinks? If he still poops and wets himself, then he has no reason to squawk! Does he still suck his thumb?”
“All the time,” Anita admitted.
“Well then, there you are!”, Fran said triumphantly as if making her point had somehow made her day, “If I were you, I’d put him back in diapers until he shows he can control himself. I’d give him baby bottles too if it makes him more tractable. Who’s to say that he shouldn’t wear diapers? Or suck on pacifiers for that matter?”
“The women at the Daycare center at work might object,” Anita said grimly.
“If I remember correctly, doesn’t the Daycare have a rule about children who aren’t potty trained? Don’t they REQUIRE that children who aren’t potty trained wear diapers?”, Fran asked.
“Well,Ö yes,” Anita temporized, “But I donít want it to get around that I’m not taking good care of him.”
“Nonsense!”, Fran exclaimed, “As far as I’m concerned, the only way you could be seen as not caring for him properly is to let him dictate his care to you! If he wants to poop in his pants, then put him in diapers! He’s only a baby, Anita! Look at him!”
Anita looked down to see her husband sitting on the floor with his legs splayed out in front of him and his thumb in his mouth. The training pants weren’t that different from diapers, she realized. They served much the same purpose as diapers, even to having thick padding in the same places! It didn’t take much of a stretch of her imagination to picture him in diapers at her feet. If she put him back in diapers, it would certainly reduce her laundry load. She thought that maybe she should look into hiring a diaper service.
Howard had the eerie feeling that he was being watched and turned to see the two women smiling down at him with a conspiratorial look in their eyes. There was something about the expression on Anita’s face that told him she had come to some sort of decision while she was standing there with her friend. Howard had a bad feeling that he wasn’t going to like what she had planned for him.
Fran grinned at him and said, “Would Howie like his mommy to put him in dydees?”
