McGirl Part 1

[derry]

McGirl



My name is Rosemary McLean. My life changed a lot for the better after we moved to McGirl. My brother, Oliver’s life changed too. I do not think he would say the change was for the better but it was certainly what he needed.



The town of McGirl is actually named after an Irish man. However going back the Highland clearances of the early 1800s it has had strong links to Scotland. Those links to carry on to this day. In the 1940s there was a rather big group of Scottish women arriving. Many had been shipyard workers who had met and married men on an American Cruiser the shipyard had been repairing. Sadly this group were mostly widowed mothers because the Cruiser was sunk by a U boat.



I know all this because I did a project on the history of the town. I was not born in McGirl. My Aunt Janet was. I remember when I had visited earlier in my life there were a few guys in what I first thought were skirts. It was explained that they wore kilts because of their Scottish heritage.



Back then the kilt wearers were anything but sissies. They were incredibly macho and many got drunk a lot. Frankly I found them quite scary as a 10 year old.





Things changed. My dad had disappeared on us and Mom needed a job. There was a job in McGirl and we could stay with Aunt Janet who had inherited a home much bigger than she needed.



So Oliver, Mom and I moved in,



Oliver was then 16, I was 13. Oliver was an incredibly annoying brother. He was loud mouthed. He had got away with everything when dad was with us. Dad had always said:



    “Boys will be boys”.



That had meant that Oliver could do what he wanted.



Mom ended up actually tidying my brother’s room. I, since age 10, had done my own washing and ironing. I had helped with the rest of the housework. My brother had done nothing.





Things had change in McGirl that first Saturday. I noticed rather more males in kilts. They were mostly rather young men. They seemed to be VERY different from the guys who’d worn such things 3 years earlier.



Firstly they were very quiet boys. They seemed to be looking at the floor. Furthermore they were more or less always accompanied by a woman or perhaps a girl.



Then there was the pattern of these kilts. Although they all looked like they might be a kind of tartan the colors were a bit different. They had a surprising amount of pink and very pale blue, not your typical tartan.





Girls told me something surprising on my first day at McGirl junior High. They said that when boys over 14 got too difficult they got ‘petticoated’.  They spend their days at home in childish dresses and had to do all of the housework.



I had quickly made friends with a thoughtful girl called Leonie. She explained the town’s new customs:



   “I’m almost sorry not to have a brother. If a boy is badly behaved they often put a YOUNGER sister in charge of him. That would be a lot of fun. No ironing, no house work you don’t want to do. And then there’s all the teasing.”



I did not believe what I was hearing.



   “How do they make the boys put on the frocks?”



   “That’s the clever thing. You know we have some very capable young sportswomen. This town wins girls wrestling, soccer, field hockey and judo championships state-wide. At first a little encouragement is often needed. However once they are under petticoat control the young man is likely to be very isolated.”



I, of course, did not believe a word of this, though the idea amused me.



On the way home from school, that first day, I got a chance to discover the truth. We met a lady holding her son’s hand. He was wearing a kilt with an odd tartan with a surprising amount of pink. I was astonished by how forward Leonie was



     “Tommy, or is that Tammy, real Scotsmen wear nothing under their kilts. What have you got underneath?”



The boy looked at the ground. His mother said.



   “Are you going to tell the nice girls about your underwear?”



He still looked at the ground. He looked scared but did not want to confess. His mother intervened



   “Okay, I’ll SHOW them.”



She reached down and pulled up the kilt a little. A frilly petticoat became visible.



   “Are you going to TELL them about your other underwear or?”



He said, quietly but I heard



   “I’m wearing frilly pink panties.”

[derry]

I invited Leonie to my home. We watched an interesting soap opera. Oliver arrived. He immediately grabbed the remote and changed channel to one showing sports. He also turned the sound right up.



I asked him to turn the sound down. He yelled:



   “I’ll have the TV on at a proper volume, shut up!”



A little later Mom arrived home from work. I talked to her:



   “This is my new friend Leonie, can she stay for dinner?”



   “Yes darling.”



Then Oliver asked:



   “What’s for dinner?”



   “Cauliflower cheese!”



   “Can’t we have some proper food?”



   “I think you should at least sometimes eat healthily.”



   “Well if we’re not having proper food I’ll go to McDonalds.”



He then picked up a $20 bill from the kitchen table, left and slammed the door.







Over dinner I mentioned my brother’s behaviour. Then there was a knock on the door.



   “I’m Ms Peters. I would like to talk to you about your son. May I come in?”



It turned out that my brother had called him ‘a bitch’ in front of other kids. He had also started a food fight on his first day at school. Aunt Janet had the answer:



   “I think that we should take Oliver or Ollie to Ms Watson’s boy’s department.”



The junior High closed a little earlier than the High School.  Mom gave me some money for clothes. There were two entrances at Ms Watson’s shop. There were windows outside the girl’s department. There were choices of many kinds of dress, skirt, top and pants.  I spent quite a while choosing some especially fashionable pairs of jeans from the girl’s department.





The boy’s department was different. There were two sets of doors. You walked through one. It swung closed before you went into the place itself. I had told Annabelle Green one of the assistants that my brother was likely to visit their boy’s department.



   “Do you want to watch what happens?”



   “Do I ever!”



I went into the shop a few minutes before my brother was due in. I opened the outer door and walked through the short passage.



   “We’ve come to see my brother’s first visit!”



I explained. I saw a guy of about 17. He was wearing a kilt. His younger sister was with him:



   “Please let me wear a jumper.”



His sister asked, knowing British English as well:



   “Are you going to curtsey and say?



                      “‘Pretty please may I have a pinafore dress?’”



He curtsied and said:



   “Pretty please may I wear a pinafore dress?”



The girl, looking about aged 10, smiled:



   “Mom said if you got any more ‘Ds’ you’d wear a sailor dress. Eleanor, could you help my brother with the fitting?”



A tall woman took the boy’s hand. He was near tears as she walked him into a fitting room.





I heard the outer door open. Then I heard my aunt’s voice:



   “We’ve got a new customer.”



A lady pressed a button. I heard a mechanical lock. Aunt Janet, Mom and my brother entered. Oliver looked around. He saw lots of dresses and very feminine outfits sized for adolscant boys but styled for girls aged, at most, 8 or 9. He was confused and said:



   “Hey, there’s been a mistake.”



The tall Ms Watson said:



   “We provide clothes for naughty boys who are too BOIsterous. Was there a mistake Mrs McLean?”



Mom smiled



   “No Ms Watson.”



Oliver yelled:



   “You’re crazy.”



He ran through the inner door. He found that the outer door was firmly shut and locked. Two very tall and large young ladies followed him. Mom talked to him.



   “Now would you undress so that Eleanor here can fit you frock?”



He shook his head.



   “So you are disobeying me?”



He nodded his head. Ms Watson asked Mom:



   “Should we take your son to the naughty boys’ room?”



   “Yes, Ms Watson, and I think Rosemary and her friend might want to watch.”



Ms Watson picked up a phone:



   “Karen, we need your special skills.”



A half a minute later a third large, strong if slightly shorter young lady appeared.  I followed Karen into a room with a large armless chair in the middle. Karen talked asked a question:



   “Oliver, we know that you need a spanking. Are you going to ask nicely for it and let me pull down your pants and undies and assume the position across my lap?”



His answer was an attempt to pull away from the other girls. There was a brief struggle. It ended with Karen sitting down. Stacey, one of the other young ladies firmly held his hands. Marcie, the other, held his feet. He was placed over Karen’s knees. She undid his pants and pulled them to his knees. His underpants came down enough to give her a target.



   “There’s an art and science to spanking naughty boys.”



Karen explained. She hit him a dozen times with her hand. They looked like quite heavy blows to me.



   “That was the warm up. Rosemary, would you go and ask Eleanor for the special hairbrush?”



I obeyed. The ‘special hairbrush’ was heavier than any I hand known. It also had some metal on its back.



   “Whap!”



He gritted his teeth.



   “Whap!”



He cringed and was close to tears.



   “Whap!”



He was in tears. Three further heavy hairbrush blows followed. Then Karen talked to him:



   “I think that you are now nearly ready for a chat. Mrs McLean could you ask Ms Watson for the special oil.”



Mom went out and came back with a small container. Karen continued:



   “This makes your nerves especially sensitive. It takes about a minute to take effect.”



She carefully spread the oil on the target area. He was silent and scared. The next hairbrush blow seemed even heavier and the ‘WHAP’ louder.. However in a split second it was drowned out by his yell of pain.



   “You see why this room has to be sound proofed



Remarked Marcie.”



Two more blows followed. Each followed by a VERY loud yelp. Then more childish tears came as there was a pause.



   “Now are you going to be a good child and ask Eleanor to fit you with suitable clothing or do you want a dozen more blows from my, followed by a dozen on the other butt from Marcie, who is left handed.”



My brother was still near to tears as he was allowed up and went over to Eleanor:



   “Please fit me for a little girl dress?”

[derry]

Karen explained how things would follow.



   “The naughty boys’ room is also a fitting room I think that Ollie should stay standing as he is.”



Mom nodded. My brother was standing with his trousers around his ankles and his underpants around his knees. His very red ass was visible.



As we had discussed earlier I went out and I offered my brother some possible clothes. They were a jumper, a blouse and a pair of definitely girlish but rather plain panties. I guess they looked a lot like I wore and say 8 or 9.



   “How would you like to wear this dress and these panties?”



I asked in a friendly manner. He said nothing, I think that he did not dare say he did not like what was on offer but, after his spanking, he would not directly say "no."



Mom said:



   “It’s alright Ollie; I can see you don’t like the clothes Rosemary chose. That’s fine. I think you should have something prettier and more in keeping with your emotional age.”



Mom then picked up a more childish dress. It was very fussy. It had a sewn in petticoat. I remember a photo of me in such a frock; I must have been 3 or at most 4 at the time. The new frock also buttoned up at the back. There were a lot of very small buttons there. It would be impossible for him to unbutton the garment himself.





My brother did not resist as Mom unbuttoned and removed his shirt.



   “I think you should step out of your pants.”



Mom said, and he complied. He did not resist as Mom pushed his arms into the arms of the dress. Then she talked to me:



   “Rosemary, would you button up your brother’s pretty new dress?”



I did so. Actually given the smallness of the button and button holes it might have taken a while for anyone. I made sure to do this as slowly as possible. I pointed to a mirror. He just let me do what I wanted.



When I was nearly finished Mom came back. She offered a pair of panties. They had a cartoon figure, Minnie Mouse. Mom then reached and pulled down his boyish, now inappropriate, underpants to his ankles.



   “Lift this foot.”



He obeyed and the underpants were removed from his left foot,



   “Lift this foot.”



Not only did Mom take off his boy undies but also slipped on the little girl panties.



   “Now the other foot.”



The childish panties were slipped on and pulled up under the new dress. A further instruction followed:



   “Sit down child.”



He obeyed. Then Mom gave me some socks.



   “Would you put the child’s socks on him?”



I did so. The socks were very bright white. They just went to his ankles. They had cartoon pink rabbits on them. Next came very black, t-bar sandals, which I slipped onto his feet and fastened them for him. You can imagine that he looked quite a sight when he walked out of the room into the main part of the shop.



As he did so I saw an interesting thing. Another young man, in a skirt and blouse, was curtseying



   “Thank your for my skirt.”



He curtsied



   “Thank you for my pantyhose.”



He curtsied.



   “Thank you for my blouse,”



He again showed girlish respect. An 8 year old girl was sitting down. He looked about 16. His Mom was watching. I had a question for my brother.



   “Do you know how to curtsey?”



He shook his head. I then asked the 8 year old



   “Could your brother teach my brother to curtsey?”



   “Tammy, teach the boy to curtsey.”



The next half an hour was very comical. My brother’s efforts, even at the end, were not that good. At the end he repeatedly curtsied thanking me for his sandals, his Minnie mouse panties, his socks with pink rabbits, and finally for the pretty dress.



Finally Ms Watson came out.



   “Ollie, although it would probably do you good we feel you cannot wear you pretty dress outside. You can wear this skirt.”



She showed him the tartan garment. There was a surprising amount of pink in the tartan pattern.



   “Lots of people will think this is a kilt. But it is not, it is a tartan elasticized skirt.”



I held my brother’s hand on our walk home. I knew, and so did 80% of those looking at him, that under the skirt disguised as a kilt he wore a petticoat and childish panties.

[derry]

As soon as we got home we got my brother out of the kilt- or rather tartan skirt, petticoat and blouse and into a properly childish frock. Then we showed him a VERY large pile of ironing.



Just at that moment the doorbell rang. It was Karen from the shop:



   “I think I should explain about AAG. It stands for Assertive Athletic Girls. You know I have hopes of becoming a professional tennis player. Mom, she’s a widow, originally decided to come to this town because the Gym department at the High School heard of me and kind of head hunted me. McGirl wins every single competitive women’s sport event around here, sometimes State wide and sometimes wider than that.



   “It is also great to live in a town where you know ALL girls, that is all REAL girls and women feel safe and ARE safe. That’s what AAG does.



   “There are about a dozen of us on call  any given night between 11pm and 7am who can be called by a Mom or sister. We have thirty on duty during the day. If an overgrown child is too BOIsterous and does not want to wear a pretty frock or wash dishes they phone- 1 800 AAG.



   “Then three of us will turn up. The boy will find himself over two different knees. He will be spanked 20 times on each with full force and with the special oil that makes asses especially sensitive to pain stimuli. Then we will ask:



‘“Do you want another spanking in half an hour or do you want to do what you are told?”’



Then Karen took out three large posters:



   “Is he too BOYsterous? Call 1-800-AAG, any time. No charge.”



AAG actually had about a hundred members. They had rotas. Karen went on:



   “I was really glad to be called down to deal with Ollie here…”



She gently patted his butt, whilst he carried on trying to iron my pants.



   “The thing is it is usually only kids going to Ms Watson’s for the first time that need our services.



   “We also give spanking lessons. We only actually have members from 16 to 25. But we like to train and encourage younger girls...”



I was, and am, quite athletic. I liked this idea.



   “The full deal with three of us and the oil and all that is a last resort. The average 13 year old can learn to give a spanking that a bad boy will hate and not want to repeat. This reminds me my colleagues should be here soon. Someone forgot to say thank you for their spanking.”



After a bit more ironing by my brother and chatting to Karen the door went. We then had some more fun. Ollie curtsied and said



   “Thank you Ms Marcie, for helping with my spanking.



   “Thank you Ms Stacey for helping with my spanking



   “Thank you very much Ms Karen for spanking me. I really needed that spanking.”



Aunt Janet ordered Pizza, Ollie’s favourite. Mom told him:



   “Because of the way you have behaved you will go to bed without supper. I am sure you will smell it. After what you did to your sister you yesterday you do need a spanking. I think it would help for Rosemary’s first lesson.”



Karen advised me.



   “Now if the naughty one is going to have to submit and not be held you need to pick just the right kind of chair. This will be excellent. You see you can feel comfortable but Ollie here will feel unsteady and worry about falling If he does that just means you have to start the spanking again.



   “Now you know you need to go across Rosemary’s knees.”



I sat down. He assumed the position. Karen went on:



   “Lift the skirt of the dress. With this one you do not need to lift the petticoat separately because it is sewn in. You want to make sure that it does not get in the way. I find large safety pins do the job wonderfully.”



I continued to follow the instruction. I pulled down the Minnie Mouse panties, but only so they were out of the way.



I really enjoyed landing blow after blow on his butt with the heavy hairbrush. As I happen to be left handed the relevant half of his bottom had started off white as a sheet. It ended up red as a rose. Better still I managed to get him to really cry.



Karen advised:



   “A spanking is NEVER over until the boy is really crying. Sometimes you need to go on but I think there is other business tonight.”



Mom took him up to the bathroom. I watched. After supervising his bath she applied hair remover to his legs and also his face.



   “Big girls wear nighties. Little girls wear jamies.”



The pair he was offered also had cartoon figures on them. (From about age 6 I would have refused to put on such babyish night clothes.) He heard the door bell go.



   “Oh and there is one more part of your anatomy that needs cleaning.”



Up came Ms Peters:



   “Did you use naughty words to Ms Peters?”



He nodded:



   “I think that mouths that use naughty words need to be cleaned out. Have you something to ask”



He did



   “Pretty please wash my mouth with soap Ms Peters.”



She did so with a lot of enthusiasm, and I then realized, quite a lot of experience. She spent twenty minutes with the wash cloth and the carbolic soap.



Then he was put to bed. I am sure he smelled the Pizza and heard us having a great time. He was in bed by 8pm.

[derry]

Leonie had a sister called Molly, who was in the third grade in the elementary school. They had started giving beginning classes on “Home Economics and Home Making”. Perhaps surprisingly, in view of the kind of town  McGirl is, the young students attending this class tended to be girls.



However, the elementary school and the High School cooperated. There were lots of young men who now NEEDED lessons in this kind of thing. It was arranged that these lessons be provided. The boys, aged 14-19 were walked to the Elementary school by a teacher. However most of those in each lesson were girls aged 8-10. It was not an accident that the girls nearly always wore pants when they were learning with the bigger boys. I doubt that even one of the girls in the class were unaware that the boys had petticoats and panties under their ‘kilts’.



That evening Molly told us what happened, whilst Ollie, in his pretty frock, scrubbed the kitchen floor. I was surprised how loudly the 3rd grader could talk.



   “We had a practical test of needlecraft. Then we had some quizzes. It was so funny. All those big boys came last in the class. Maybe they should be in Kindergarten Home Ec class, would you like that Ollie?”



He carried on scrubbing. I asked



   “Would you like to be in a Home Economics class with kindergarten girls Ollie?”



He paused.



   “Well, I will have to deal with rudeness but I still want an answer.”



He said:



   “I would not like to be with kindergarten girls but if teacher tells me to I will do what I am told.”



After the kitchen floor had been washed I looked. I said:



   “That’s not good enough. You must wash it again. But first you need to be punished. I need you go across my knees.”



He obeyed. I wanted to maximize the humiliation. I asked for Molly’s help. The dress Ollie had on now had a separate petticoat. I asked Molly:



   “Would you lift Ollie’s dress out of the way?



   “Would you lift Ollie’s petticoat out of the way? Now use these pins to keep them out of the way.”



He was lying uncomfortably in the childish position. The much younger child fixed fastened the skirts of his dress and petticoat out of the way.



   “Are these diaper pins, like for old fashioned cloth diapers?”



I smiled and nodded



   “Yes they are.”



I pulled down his panties. They had cartoon elephants on them. Few girls over age of 4 would choose such underwear.



The first twenty whaps came with my hand. I could tell it hurt him a bit. I gave further instruction:



   “Molly, would you get the hairbrush from the hook on my bedroom door?”



She obeyed:



   “Whap, whap, whap.”[/b]



 By the fifth blow he was starting to cry. I looked at the clock it was twenty five minutes after five. I carried on the spanking until half past.



   “Now stand in the corner as you are.”



He struggled to get there with his panties halfway down. His very red behind was very visible.







So for the next couple of days I had no dishes to wash. My brother had to do my washing and ironing as well and tidying my room. The trouble was that he was useless at them. The kitchen floor needing to be done three times was typical.



Then too there was the problem of the ironing. He had ruined my best sweater.



I quietly talked to Mom about the problem. This was after nine; my brother was in bed and had been for an hour.



It turned out that Ms Watson wanted to try a new range of clothes in her boys’ section. Furthermore she had talked to Karen. In McGirl most of the work in the shop had become girl’s work. They agreed to spend all of Friday afternoon making some very particular furniture.



Karen showed me an antique. It was the High Chair she had sat in, like her mother, grand father and great grand father. It was all wood.



Then she showed me what looked like an identical item of furniture, only bigger. She explained some differences:



   “With this High Chair the arms and the sides of the tray are hinged. However once the baby..”



She giggled a lot at this word.



   “…is safely in his chair you can lock the tray in place. It will be hard for baba to get into trouble, but there are some other features which can be added to make absolutely sure.”

[derry]

I met my brother as he was leaving the High School. I told him:



   “Mom and I have decided you need some new clothes, so we’re going to Ms Watson’s boy’s department.”



He knew I could call AAG if I needed to. My brother did not want to see Assertive Athletic Girls again. He therefore let me hold his hand and walk him to the shop. I asked him a question:



   “Now we’re going to buy you some shorter dresses. I know that you do not want people to see the little girl panties you have on. How would it be if we got you some Unisex underwear?”



He said:



   “I suppose so.”



As we arrived we met a British lady called Ann Black.



   “I’ve designed a whole new range of clothes, and you’re going to be the first to try them. Isn’t that nice?”



I held various short dresses, basically baby frocks, against my brother. It was in front of other customers. The other customers were young males who were rather intimidated, mothers and school aged girls. The females were all smiling. The boys were looking at the ground.



In the next half an hour Ms Black had undressed my brother and showed him off in three very infantile dresses. All the dresses barely covered his ass. That meant that the childish panties, with Minnie mouse on them, were on full view.



I made the suggestion (which Ms Black was expecting.)



   “Now Ollie, you often seem to make puddles on the floor or even do pee on you nice dresses. How would it be if you wore disposable diapers?”



He looked at me pleadingly:



   “PLEASE, no.”



I said:



   “All right darling, you don’t have to wear disposable diapers. I think we should give you some mittens.”



I slipped the mittens over his hands. I then did up buckles. I do not know whether he realized that he was now almost totally incapacitated as far as using his hands are concerned.



This time I went into the changing room. Ms Black followed us.



   “Here are your napkins.”



He was confused:



   “What, you mean like sanitary napkins. I’m NOT actually a girl.”



Ms Black explained gave instructions:



   “Lie down, child.”



He obeyed and she lifted his legs.



   “I’m sorry for using an old fashioned word. Few people even in England or Scotland talk of napkins, we use what some dictionary calls nursery slang, nappies.”



I carefully folded the large white square towels.



   “Of course Americans call them diapers, or didies.”



My brother was helpless but felt cheated:



   “But you promised you said…”



I replied as I slid the first garment under him and started fastening the pins,



   “I said you won’t wear DISPOSABLE diapers and you don’t have to. I think these are much more babyish, and more suited to your emotional age.”



He was so intimidated by what had happened that he just lay there whilst I pinned two further very bulky diapers around his ass. I think he may have been even more shocked when I slipped the clear plastic panties over the diapers. I carefully adjusted them to minimize the risk of leaks.



Ollie probably started guessing that he would probably do more than wear the babyish underwear.



We took him out of the fitting room so that people could see the child in the baby dress and diapers. Lots of the girls laughed. The boys, in their jumpers or sailor dresses, just kept silent.



I think that Ollie was relieved to be put back in his slip and kilt, or rather tartan elasticized skirt, before we left. He probably hoped that the underwear he was wearing would also be that which he walked in wearing.  He was wrong. We kept him in the diapers and plastic panties.



With all that bulk my brother certainly walked strangely as I walked him home. As I opened the door my brother saw it. There was a big banner



   “Ollie’s Baby Shower.”

[derry]

Lots of girls from his class and from mine were waiting as he entered our home. Mom said:



   “Let’s get baby into a nice pretty dress.”



She undressed him. He stood there in black sandals, white ankle socks, plastic panties and bulky diapers. My friend Leonie had a comment:



   “Your underwear certainly suits you.”



 There was a nasty shock for my brother next. Young Molly was also there. She had a question:



   “Could I help baby into the dress?”



Mom said:



   “Of course.”



The third grader spent a long time buttoning up the many small buttons on the back of his dress. As Molly was doing her job Mom remarked:



   “Now there are LOTS of presents for the BABY shower . This time the BABY will say thank you for the gifts, and curtsey. Firstly we have redecorated your bedroom, or rather nursery.”



I led him upstairs. His room now just had a bed, a long empty box with gift wrapping, and new wallpaper. The wallpaper consisted of cute animals- rabbits, elephants, ducks and things like that. ALL of the cute animals were diapered.



I said:



   “Jenny Green has redecorated your nursery. Would you like to thank her?”



Ollie curtsied, which he found harder with the bulk of the diapers and said:



   “Thank you for redecorating my nursery.”



Next Stacey, who had played such a big part in his first proper spanking, had a comment:



   “Your bed is a bit grown up. So I prepared some adaptations.”



She pulled off the mattress and replaced it with a couple of crib mattresses sewn together. Next she bolted on ends, bars on one side and a drop side bar on the other. Mom said:



   “Isn’t it a lovely crib – what does baby say?”



Again the awkward curtsy:



   “Thank you for my crib.”



Stacey explained:



   “Although they are painted pink the bars are solid metal, and this can be clipped on if baby tries getting out.”



She showed him a top which could fit over the crib.



Marcie unwrapped the next gift. It was a suitably sized changing table. It had attachments there to, if need be strap him down and clip his mittened hands. I said:



   “I’m sure that Ollie will NEED the CHANGING table over the year or three, what does he have to say.”



Again the curtsey:



   “Thank you very much for the changing table.”



Then I walked him down stairs.



Karen unwrapped another huge gift, it was the High Chair. It was big enough for baby. She showed him some features:



   “These straps will help make sure baby cannot get into any problems, however with the tray fitted..”



She clicked it into place



   “Baby will be so safe we could leave the infant all day without any risk of his hurting himself. However these little fittings will be there just in case.”



Karen showed him the places his hands and feet could be secured. There was another curtsey and thanks. Mom said:



   “I think baby must be thirsty.”



I sat down on the sofa. Ollie put his head on my lap and took a baby bottle of formula. Molly was the next to feed the child. I think he had about ten bottles. I noticed that he was fidgeting a lot. Mom had, what Ollie thought, was good news.



   “I think we should put the child back in the kilt and blouse.”





I held the child’s hand but lots of other people followed. We knew where we were going. It was to a beauty shop which specialized in piercings. Four girls and two boys were going to have their ears pierced.



Two girls arrived before it was Ollie’s turn. Each time I let them go ahead. Mom then told Ollie something that he did not expect:



   “Now, Ollie, babies do not have ear rings, so you ears won’t be pierced. We plan different piercings.”



By this time Ollie was really fidgeting a lot. He found out what were to be pierced. It was his lips. As the piercings happened I noticed pain, and a change. The fidgeting stopped. Two tiny fittings were put in place. I explained



   “Real babies love their pacifiers. Big babies might try to spit them out. We don’t want that. Open your mouth.”



He obeyed. I stuffed the huge dummy into my brother’s mouth. I adjusted the tiny fittings on the lip rings. Given the mittens he was wearing there would be no way for him to remove the pacifier without help.