“Mommy?”, he asked querulously, “BuÖBut you’re not my mommy, you’re my wife!”
“Not anymore, Baby!”, Anita told him, “You’re the little baby nephew whose been ‘adopted’ by his aunt. I want you to start talking like a toddler. I can’t take the risk that someone will get suspicious and inform the authorities. You don’t want to go to prison wearing training pants do you? No? I thought not! Who knows what might happen when one of the inmates changed your soggy panties? Of course you could get lucky and the court might decide that it’s too dangerous to send you to prison. I wonder what the alternative might be? Juvenile hall? Foster care as some adoptive family’s wayward child? Maybe they’d just throw up their collective hands and send you to a nursing home until it was time for your release. I doubt you’d like that alternative. You know the reputation of the state supported homes. Like as not, they’d keep you in a crib the entire time you were there. I wonder how long your sentence would be? Two years? Five? Ten? In your condition they probably wouldn’t throw the book at you. On the other hand, environmentalists are a powerful voting block so they couldn’t let you off with a slap on the wrist. I imagine that the judge would try to strike a middle course and give you five years. After a six months confined in a crib wearing nothing but diapers, you wouldn’t be able to walk and your toilet training would be gone forever. The boredom would destroy your mind in the first year or so, so you wouldn’t mind too much having to wear diapers for the rest of your life. If you started biting yourself in self-inflicted rage, they’d simply have the hospital dentist yank all your teeth and put you on a diet of baby food. They might have to feed you baby food after a few years anyway. With the poor dental care that the State provides, after a couple of years in a State home, I doubt you’d have enough teeth left to eat adult food. I’m sure you’ve seen pictures of people who’ve been confined to State nursing homes for long periods and how gapped toothed they look, it wouldn’t be any different with you. You’d be released to my care after your term was up to spend your days crawling on the floor in your diapers. You’d be free as a bird. Free to poop in your diapers whenever the need arose and cry when you became angry or frustrated. You’d look soooo adorable; lying in your playpen, drooling incontinently and incoherently gurgling your needs to me. You don’t like that idea? Poor Baby! Then you’d better do as Mommy says or you’ll end up just like that!”
Anita’s words struck Howard like physical blows. He winced in psychic pain at every mean suggestion of his potential fate at the hands of the authorities. What had made her so cruel? What had he done to deserve this?
She chuckled evilly at the thought of her husband being reduced to helpless infancy and continued, “Where was I? Oh yes, now I remember. The other thing that bothers me is the way you’ve been occupying yourself while I’m at work. It isn’t natural for a child your age to watch television all the time. You going to have to start playing with toys like other little boys. I bought some toys for you this morning so you can practice playing with them this evening and tomorrow. Don’t worry, Honeybunch. By Monday morning you’ll look, sound and act just like any other toddler in the daycare center. They won’t suspect a thing! Now finish your lunch, Sweetheart, and Mommy will unpack your new toys for you to play with before your nap!”