Chapter 3
The next day was my birthday, not because my mother ever talked about it but because nanny arrived on the very day of my celebrations. I only knew, because I had some birthday cards from my relatives. It was strange that the gifts of money promised inside the cards had always mysteriously fallen out.
Nanny was called Miss Evelyn K. Warner and she came with the highest credentials having worked with some of the most illustrious families in the land. Rather a lot of families as it turned out, because many contracts seemed to have ended early. The ‘K’ in her name apparently did not stand for kindness but Kathryn. All of this was irrelevant because she was called nanny by everybody.
I was sat in my highchair wearing my new bib and the pink onesie which I had worn to bed. I was wearing a very wet nappy and beginning to feel uncomfortable as the rash was starting to flare up again. My mother was dressed for work in a white blouse and tight black skirt. You could see her lacy bra through the blouse, but this would be covered up when she put on the black jacket that went with the skirt. She still looked very pretty to me and at the moment we were still friends. The had made me scrambled eggs and made up a bottle of formula to have afterwards. Naturally, I was firmly fastened into my highchair with the harness, but did not need to wear it in bed anymore.
The door bell rang and my mother dashed to open it. In came a tall woman dressed in a deep blue nurse’s uniform with white bibbed apron that was as well starched as she seemed to be. Her dark brown hair was tied back severely in a tight bun around which was a lace hat. She was attractive, had a beautiful figure that was not too slim but not plump in any way; she was best described as having a fit and athletic build with muscles in the right places. My mother thought she looked like the tennis player Virginia Wade as she tried to describe her to me as she was making my eggs.
Everybody seemed to be in a rush. Nanny told my mother to go and I heard her car pull off the drive as this new woman in my life closed the front door and came into the kitchen. I gave her my biggest smile and said hello.
In a second, I knew that this relationship was not going to be fun. In reply to my warm welcoming smile, I received back a look that was nearing revulsion. Her eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as she took in the spectacle of the big baby in her high chair.
“How dare you talk to me like a grown-up” were the first words that she barked at me “I only look after babies in nappies and babies in nappies do not speak.”
I was stunned and did not know how to react, so I apologised.
“I said to you that babies do not speak, and what do you do? You speak.” She came right up to my face and her nose was almost touching mine. It was very intimidating and my bladder chose that moment to cut loose. I could feel and smell her breath in my face – Palma violets, it was sweet and sickly. “Baby would say ‘Hewo Nana’, can you do that?”
I most certainly could and was happy to oblige – she responded with a sneer.
“Is baby in a wet nappy?” she asked having stood back to allow me to breath some fresh air rather than recycle her floral breath.
I responded that I was very wet.
She went mad on me again, smacking my legs at least six times as they dangled beneath my high chair. “You’re talking like a grown up again” she fumed “you are a silly little baby and babies do not talk and they certainly do not know whether they are in a wet or a dirty nappy. Babies walk around in their soiled nappies until Mummy or Nanny change them. That is why your Mummy hired me – to look after you and change your stinky little bottom. The answer to my question was ‘napnap’ or ‘naffy’.
I used the second suggested word and was praised for being a quick learner.
“Right, it is time to get you down” she informed me “what do you say?”
“Anku Nana” I responded with my best guess. Nanny almost had a small grin of success, as she unfastened my harness. I fell to my feet and started to waddle towards my bedroom and my changing table.
“What on earth are you doing?” she shouted stooping down and giving me a vicious swipe across the back of my legs. So hard was the blow that I went sprawling and fell on my face. “Babies crawl don’t they, you stupid little pansy”.
I regained my position on my knees and continued my journey to the changing table. I stopped not knowing what to do. Nanny grasped me under my armpits and I obliged by helping her lift me. All was well.
I lay there naked smelling of pee. “What do we do now baby? I was too terrified to speak, but nanny was not accepting silence as an answer. She put her finger under my chin “Well?” I realised silence was not going to be an option.
“Baff Nana” I stuttered truly worried
“No need to be frightened” she said in a sickly way “you’re not frighted of your nanny are you?”
I shook my head but not very convincingly. In half an hour I had been scrubbed from head to toe and pinned into a new set of fluffy nappies covered with a very babyish pair of plastic pants. The appearance of a pink and very juvenile bubble romper covered with lace trimmings around the neck and bottom was most unwelcome. However, the fitting of pink woolly mittens and booties was the final humiliation or so I thought until she tied a pink wool bonnet on my head and pushed a new pink sparkly dummy in my mouth. The brief glimpse I caught of myself in the mirror was of an overgrown baby of about six months old. My final depressing sight was of a new terry towelling pink bib adorned with little white lambs that she tied with a large bow around my neck.
I didn’t want to, but I was soon starting to cry. It was my birthday and all I was getting was a very large dose of humiliation. “Hop down” she said cheerily, but something told me there was something nasty about to happen, because she had that horrible look that I was beginning to recognise. As my feet hit the floor I collapsed into a heap as the pain of the dozen nails in each sole of the bootie came through the spongy foam insert and pierced my feet. Nanny could not resist laughing as I burst into tears looking up at her from the floor.
“Now silly baby” she said once she had recovered her composure “it’s your birthday and Nanny has bought you a present.” My heart soared, at last somebody had remembered that it was my birthday. It was wrapped in pink baby paper illustrated with rattles of all different colours. I tore away at the paper with my mittens barely able to get a grip, my deep concentration of the task causing me to slurp and suc-k heavily on my dummy.
I was in, the paper wrapping was off and the gift was revealed. I should have known. What else would it have been but a baby’s rattle? “Anku Nana” I managed to gurgle without much enthusiasm. The handle was a large teething ring which enabled me to fit my mittened hand into it. One look at nanny’s face told me one thing; shake the rattle without any hesitation and look like you are enjoying your new present.
Yesterday I had been six years old and here I was one day later and now only six months old back in nappies, looking every inch a perfect overgrown baby.
What could I do? I flooded my nappy, shook my rattle, suc-ked my dummy and sobbed my heart out.
� 
Topic: Tommy's Story (Read 21484 times)
