He shrank in on himself, the knowledge of his helplessness and growing appetite for his Momma’s mothering destroyed his pride and made him mewl in shame. His reason left him momentarily and left only a small, wet, defenseless baby boy waiting for his mommy to notice his dirty diaper and change him. He wanted to be clean and dry and for Momma to cuddle him and tell him she loved him and everything was alright. He squalled in humiliation and defeat. Mary looked over at Marge and pulled off the road into the parking lot of a convenience store. Marge got out and opened the back door of the Suburban and took him out of the baby seat. She gently laid him down on the back seat and changed him, putting him in a thick nighttime disposable diaper. She cooed, “Hush baby, it’s alright, mommy’s putting you in a nite-nite diaper so you’ll stay dry all afternoon.” She took him in her arms and cuddled him, telling him over and over that she forgave him and still loved him. He calmed down and she put him back in the baby seat. She got in the driver’s seat and got back on the road. Tommy sat quietly looking out the window, much chastened and humbled, but feeling well loved and protected.
They arrived at the baby store and Marge got out and converted the car seat into a stroller while Mary did the same for Bobby. Mary held the door open for Marge and Tommy, then Mary led the way through the store, pushing Bobby in his stroller, and pointing out new baby products to Marge as they wound their way back to the infant apparel section. They stopped at a display with a gaily decorated sign labeled “Tommy Beddy Bear Sleepwear“.
“What size does he take?”, Mary asked. “He looked about twelve months old this morning,” Marge said, “He’s not quite as small as Bobby and Bobby is nine months old.”
Mary looked at Thomas critically and said, “I think he may have gotten a little younger since then, Tommy looks like he’s about ten months old now, don’t you think?”
Marge looked at her son and had to agree that he had gotten younger. Her measurement of the formula hadn’t been that exact. It was possible that she had given Thomas a tad more formula that she had given herself. “No, that isn’t right,” Marge thought to herself as she thought back to her birthday party and recalled what her adult son had told them, “Thomas said that the dosage only affected the duration rather than the amount of physical regression. He must have miscalculated when he compounded the treatment.”
She examined her son again and decided that if he was still getting younger, than the process had slowed radically. Certainly he wouldn’t get much younger, perhaps a month or so. Unless Marge missed her guess, Tommy would probably end up being exactly the same age as Bobby. Marge looked back at Mary and said, “I think you’re right, let’s buy clothes as if he was Bobby’s size. I think by the end of the day, they will be the same age.”
Mary rummaged through the stacks for a few moments and returned with some clothes over her arm. “Let’s see how these look on him,” she said, bending down to drape a sleeper under his neck.
It was baby blue and white flannelette with dancing teddy bears on the front and made him look younger than his apparent twelve months. Marge was delighted with the sleeper and told Tommy how adorable it made him look. Marge took the sleeper and put it over the handle of the stroller while Mary draped a white cotton onesie over him. “This would be perfect for daywear, Marge. See, the crouch snaps around his diaper and his legs are free for crawling, but the top will keep him warm during his nap without a blanket. I bought Bobby a bunch of these, they’re so practical.”
Marge added several more onsies to the basket and came up with another sleeper for him from the rack. “After all,” Marge reasoned to herself, “This time I’m buying clothes for him to wear for the next ten years.”