A boy struggles to accept his new identity as a teen baby.
The portion between the dotted lines may have been written from my memory of something I had read some time ago. It was about how a therapist might convince a teenager to use diapers if thei...
I turn my head to see who my mom is talking to. A lady and her son are sitting on a bench waiting to take their turn at the changing table. My cheeks are red as is usual in this situation, with my legs in the air and sitting on a thick diaper with plastic pants around my ankles, and I would normally be crying at this point but the boy waiting his turn has Down's Syndrome so I just smile instead. Nonetheless, a single tear rolls down my cheek so my mom puts my pacifier in my mouth to stem the tide of tears I usually produce.
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She hurriedly puts away her supplies in the ever-present diaper bag, closes the snaps on my onesie and I hop off the table. I instinctively latch onto her free hand and wait while she exchanges pleasantries with the lady while her son smiles dopily at me. I smirk, not because I have anything against him, just more out of the awkwardness of the situation. This only makes my mom want to extend the conversation to prolong my embarrassment as much as possible.
My name is Jacob, and I'm almost seventeen years old. My mom is a psychiatric nurse and my dad is an engineer. He has about fifteen patents to his name. It's only when the boy tugs on his mother's arm that the conversation ends and we exit the bathroom to join the rest of my family.
I climb into the rented stroller as my mom puts the diaper bag in the tray beneath my seat and straps me in. Some of the other kids gathered around the tide pool display laugh at me which makes my brothers, John, 15, and Joe, 14, snicker. My sister Sarah, 12, is more attentive. She retrieves a small stuffie from the diaper bag and puts it on my lap. Far from comforting me, it only draws attention to my plight. I squeeze it tight and try not to cry...too much.
I would be wearing pants but it's a warm day and so here I sit, my diaper padded behind exposed to all the world. A blast of hot air hits us as we exit the building. I squint my eyes and my sister pulls down the shade to shield me. The rest of the family tries to decide where we should go next. In different circumstances, I would have a say but with my current status, all such decisions are out of my hands. We turn towards the monkey house. It wasn't always this way and though my memory is foggy about other things like Algebra and History, I remember the day it all began very clearly indeed.
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