I am very happy with the way I have brought up my son – as a little girl who wets herself.

Some people will object to the way I have brought up my son.

They simply don`t understand how a mother feels.

He is a very unusual little boy I admit.

I say `little boy` but in fact he’s twenty-seven years old now,

and no longer a boy at all.

If you saw him I’m sure you would agree that I’ve done the right thing.

He’s far too pretty and delicate for the wicked world of grown-ups –

he wouldn’t be able to cope with it at all.

It’s absolutely essential for me to keep him safely in his dear little nursery,

dressed in the lovely frllly outfits I make for him

living a dainty, girlie, carefree life among his dollies.

Some people will say I’m being selfish;

that I make him sweet and babyish for my own pleasure.

Well, I admit

I do get enormous pleasure from dressing my darling in gorgeous baby dresses and frilly bonnets

as well as watching him dribble and kick out his legs in his lovely pink satin crib;

but he enjoys it too!

I know he does.

He cries of course,

but don’t all babies cry?

That just proves how babyish he really is!

Besides, what could be more fun for a boy than living with his Mummy,

wearing soft fluffy diapers and plastic panties and wetting himself whenever he feels like it?

And I don’t keep my little angel all to myself.

He does meet other people too.

All my girlfriends come round to see him regularly and we have lovely dressing-up sessions and he has a wonderful time.

Women seem to love making a fuss of him, petting and kissing him till he dribbles helplessly and soaks his diaper for them.

Actually, he even has a special lady friend to take care of his needs.

You see I know a male of his age needs relief in that department!

Samantha comes round once a week.

A very well-developed girl.

I absent myself from the nursery when she is here,

so I have no idea what goes on,

but little Priscilla always looks very contented afterward.

That’s my baby’s name by the way. Isn’t it pretty?

Yesterday was a fairly typical day for little Priscilla.

He sleeps in a lovely white satin and lace crib beside my bed so I can see him as soon as I wake up.

Its always a lovely moment for me,

looking down at my darling with his little thumb in his mouth and tears running down his cheeks and his teddy bear in his arms and his pretty pink nightie spread over the satin sheets.

It always gives me a warm maternal feeling.

I know Priscilla can never leave me now.

How can a man who has no control of himself possibly leave his mummy and go out into the big grown-up world?

The idea is ridiculous!

Well, I slipped on my negligee and bent down to kiss his baby smooth cheek.

“Wakey wakey Priscilla darling!”

He began to suck more strongly on his thumb and gave a babyish little sigh.

“Samantha’s coming today darling!”

His eyes opened suddenly and he started to wriggle and kick out his legs.

I’m sure he was having naughty thoughts.

Things a mother would rather not know about.

But I can’t blame the poor dear.

Am I a little jealous of Samantha’s relationship with my darling babykins?

I suppose so.

What mother isn’t a little jealous of her son’s lady friends?

I had my darling all to myself that morning anyway and I wanted to make the most of it

. I took a prettily wrapped cardboard box from the top of the wardrobe and undid the big pink bow.

Most of Priscilla’s baby dresses I make myself but occasionally I like to buy something really special,

usually from Sissywear in Knightsbridge. They sell the frilliest things you ever saw!