It’s four years since the operation and I adopted nappies as a secure way to help in my willie’s recovery but I have to admit that I still wet at night. I’ve no idea (nor does any doctor I’ve seen) why I should be wetting at my age but to be perfectly truthful, I’m incredibly grateful it’s my padding that takes on that responsibility.
We’ve tried over the years to see if I can manage without that magic ‘sponge’ between my legs, although I don’t know why but sleep and a wet nappy seem to go hand in hand. It appears I can’t stop. I still sleep fully ‘wrapped and sealed’ (as mum once joked) and I’m not sure I would sleep at all if it wasn’t so.
Over the years I’ve had dreams that involved the painful removal of that flappy bit of skin and wondered if mum was onto something all that time ago. She’d equated that disastrous operation with each nightly flood. My not very prettily cut penis is a constant reminder of that event (even if mum and doctor insists that there’s nothing wrong with it now) and it wouldn’t be wrong to say a shiver of trepidation, whether night or day, has had the occasional effect of an unexpected spurt of pee. My night time wetting isn’t done on purpose as I can never remember ever wanting, or needing, to go to the toilet so, perhaps I’ve clung onto wearing nappies with good reason?
It may seem strange that after all this time I haven’t lost the need for protection. In fact, if anything, I’ve come to rely on it more and more. I can’t pretend that I haven’t tried to stop wearing it but all attempts have ended in failure. At these times, if mum sees I’m looking frustrated, angry or even slightly begrudging (and occasionally I do) she beams her best smile, whispers in my ear that there is nothing to worry about. So, whilst it’s stopping any embarrassment on my part… I should be happy in my nappy.
Happy=Nappy, Nappy=Happy, Happy=Nappy
Once that refrain fills my brain every thought tells me that wearing a nappy is good for me and will make me happy. Oddly enough, I do usually feel better knowing that I have mum’s support and can’t think why I resented its presence even for a moment.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14px]Two months after Bradley left us mum received a cheque for quite a hefty sum of money. I assumed it was from auntie to pay for all the care and attention mum had spent on our little guest. Anyway, she said it was a great deal more than she’d anticipate. I hadn’t realised that there was a financial side to the deal… still it was most welcome and mum thought a special treat was justified.
As I’ve mentioned before I love treats but this was extra-special because she said we deserve a holiday to the Mediterranean sun. This was an exhilarating possibility and I could hardly contain my visible excitement at the prospect. I loved every aspect of it; the planning, the booking of flights and hotel, the packing and the journey itself. Though most of all I loved the sun once we got there.
Now she makes sure that we go abroad several times a year and I have to say I love visiting all those lovely destinations. However, when we’re flying off to some sunnier climate she insists that I’m well-padded for the journey. She’s not that keen on me sharing the inflight toilet with hundreds of other people so tells me to use my nappy if I’m desperate to go. I try to stay dry but don’t always succeed.
Whilst abroad, when we go out anywhere, she also recommends secure padding because, although she is enthusiastic about seeing all the wonderful places of interest, she isn’t keen on the state of sanitation in some of these places.
I have to agree.
I don’t mind as I’m pretty obsessed about not letting my disfigured willie be exposed to anything I worry might make it ‘flare up’. The thick padding always seems a good precaution, although she insists it is me that made this ‘nappy’ rule despite her saying.
“A wet disposable is better than contracting some infection as a result of poor toilet facilities”.
Not that they are all bad but some of the more public, and touristy ones are in a terrible state so: “It’s better to be safe than sorry”.
Even now I’m fourteen years old, mum’s thinking of my health and welfare. In fact, she’s said on more than one occasion that my protection is there for good reason and whilst it’s doing me no harm I shouldn’t be afraid to wear or use it.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14px]Not once has she ever complained about my wetting problem or thought that my wearing a nappy was in anyway a criticism of who I am. In fact, if anything, it is mum who encourages me to wear a nappy as often and whenever I want. She sees it as a sensible precaution and prevention from any unfortunate accidents… and as always I can’t disagree with her. Even more so when I realise too late that I needed to pee and my warm nappy has thankfully taken care of it all. I’d be mortified if anyone saw a wet patch as I wondered some historic site and I’d hate to embarrass mum if anyone spied what I’d done.
No, no, NO. I’d rather have a bulky nappy covered in thick waterproof plastic than a wet stain any day… I always feel a lot safer when I wear them. It’s like the insurance policy mum had to take out for our travels – you hope you won’t need it but you’re so glad you had it if you do.
These days the prospect of people mentioning my padded bottom or sleek genital area, or catching a glimpse of my vinyl pants, is no longer a worry to me. If folk say anything I can always inform them of my urinary problem or simply ignore them. Not since the very early days of wearing has it been a problem and that’s down to the way mum treats me and such padding. She jokes that guys who prefer white CK briefs really want a nappy but don’t have the guts to wear one.
A nappy is just underwear, the underwear I wear.
Once when we were talking about it she’d playfully called it my ‘cushion of love’ and in that strangely inappropriate comment I’d never felt closer to my mother. She loved me and that was all that mattered and I wanted to maintain that love.
I know that sounds like I’m a bit of a mummy’s boy, and I suppose since the snip I have relied on her taking care of my wellbeing and welfare. I think being an only parent she’s doing a remarkable job and when we had Bradley with us, I could see just how caring mum was… and is. She made time for us both. She didn’t treat our visitor any differently than she did me and spent equal amounts of time encouraging us when needed and sympathising if we were feeling upset. Whatever she did we’d both come away feeling better because of her so, if I’m a mummy’s boy… it’s because I have a wonderful, caring mother.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14px]I know that wearing a nappy can be thought of as being a bit juvenile but thick padding has saved my embarrassment on more occasions than I care to remember so for me they are a reliable friend. I don’t want you to think that mum forces me into wearing a nappy all the time, because I don’t. At school I don’t and if I don’t want to I don’t. However, over time I’ve come to both rely and appreciate what a nappy can offer that a pair of briefs or boxers can’t. So it’s my choice…
Like, for instance, if we go to the beach I don’t wear a nappy I wear my pale blue nylon Speedos. I love to swim in the sea (although mum’s not that enthusiastic) where, if I have to, I can wee in the ocean without consequence and later innocently lay out on a towel in the sun, which I also like. This is what’s so wonderful about our holidays abroad… I enjoy the sun and if I had my way I’d like to live in Spain or one of the Greek islands permanently.
However, mum is always hovering with suntan cream and lotions which she liberally smears all over me. She takes protection very seriously so there’s not a bit of skin that doesn’t get a thick coating… and I mean everywhere. She’s also very strict about how much time I’m allowed to lie out in the sun and is often calling me to put on some t-shirt over my reddening skin. I do like it when I go a little bit tanned because there is a nice white patch around my groin where I’ve worn my Speedos, which looks like the marker for where a nappy should be pinned. It was mum who pointed this out and we both giggled at the idea.
However, when we get back to the hotel I have to take a long shower. After being in the sea she insists on a really good cleaning, after which, copious amounts of antiseptic cream and anti-rash lotion (not unlike the suntan lotion) are slathered in to my untanned nappy area. Sometimes I do it myself but even then she always checks so, it’s just as easy to leave her to do it for me and then at least we know it’s on correctly.
As usual mum has a disposable (for holiday use) laid out ready for when we go out to dinner. She checks which colourful holiday outfit I want to wear and then matches the coloured plastic pants to it so I feel co-ordinated. I know this might sound stupid but I do feel more grown-up knowing the vinyl cover matches my clothes.
These days I don’t even think about it, a nappy seems to be what’s needed and mum still insists it’s better for a circumcised boy (no matter how long ago it was done) to feel the soft reassuring, comfortable material hugging and keeping his ‘bits and bobs’ safe.
I think ‘reassuring’ is the main point about wearing a nappy. Despite occasional spurts of pee at the most inopportune moments they take care of any difficulty and stop it becoming a crisis.
Happy=Nappy, Nappy=Happy, Happy=Nappy[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14px]Once we’ve eaten we often walk through the resort occasionally stopping at some cute little bar where she might sit and have a coffee as we watch the other holiday makers enjoying themselves. It appears strange that most kids are not that interested in being with their families, simply intent on looking at their phones for entertainment. To my mind they are missing out on the wonderful night time vistas; the white-washed cobbled streets lit by the occasional lamp, or the subtly lit castle that dominates a particular skyline. It’s all just wonderful.
Mum likes to chat and if it isn’t with me she’ll start up a conversation with whoever’s sat at a nearby table. She encourages me to join in and often, in a matter of a few minutes, we’ll be deep in conversation with new friends as if we’ve known them all our lives.
A couple of times I’ve seen both kids and grown-ups looking at my protection (sometimes it can be seen if my shorts ride up and expose my plastic pants) and I can see a query coming. One or two kids have called me a baby but I just shrug and ignore them. The insult doesn’t worry me because I don’t feel, or am treated, like a baby. Mum has never treated me as a baby and tells anyone interested that I have a ‘urinary problem’ and protection is the best way to deal with it.
This excuse of having a ‘urinary problem’ was something I hadn’t expected but could tell mum was just using it so that I didn’t feel like I had to go deep into explaining being circumcised etc. So, for the last couple of years we’d been using that as the excuse for padding.
Nappy wearing was something I now did almost all the time (I still wore padded underpants to school) and mum seemed okay with it. I’d managed to convince her that I didn’t mind such a dependable way to prevent the occasional mishap during the day, or the practical thick padding I needed at night where my flooding has not declined.
I think she was relieved that I didn’t demand that ‘butcher’ put it back and was glad that I’d come to terms with what she knew was a very botched job. I love my mother more and more each day, and I’m sure she didn’t do it to hurt me, it just did, both physically and mentally and so a wet nappy (better than a wet bed or pants) is the price I suppose we both have to pay.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14px]Meanwhile, it’s weird when people notice and I become the centre of attention. I just echo what mum says so when they ask if it’s uncomfortable I happily admit that it’s fine. In fact, it’s all very pleasant to wear and not only stops any embarrassing damp patches but offers a great deal of comfort and security. I’ve seen some kids, and a few parents, appear stunned at my admission and look warily at one and other; although I never know if this is to do with me or something going on in their own family. I think they think that I must be being punished for some reason and that I’m being forced to wear them against my will.
Occasionally you’ll see one parent nodding and I wonder if their child might end up wearing a nappy at some time in the near future. I think I can count on one hand the number of times an adult has ever said anything negative in public to me or mum about my wearing such protection. Mum says I’m a good advert for a boy who wears a nappy – polite, interesting and happy.
When she says stuff like that I still have the refrain running through my mind; Happy=Nappy, Nappy=Happy, Happy=Nappy.
That sing-song little melody has been with me since I started wearing padding and now that’s all I can think about… I am happy… and so is mum.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14px]After the saunter, the chat and the coffee, we eventually get back to our room. Mum makes sure I’m particularly well-padded for bed and so far, to her credit and foresight, and despite nearly every morning waking up sodden, I’ve never once wet a hotel bed… for which I am very grateful. That would be terribly embarrassing.
In fact, it is with a great deal of pride that since I’ve worn a nappy with plastic covering, I’ve never wet any bed… no matter how much I’ve peed during the night.
The amount I pee I suspect is down to the gallons of bottled water I’m encouraged to drink. Mum says that my body works better when I’m well hydrated, because it gives me an ‘unpolluted internal system’. She says that with the heat and everything it’s simply the best way to stop getting sunstroke or becoming dehydrated.
This makes sense to me but anyway, I do as I’m told and take in liquids all the time. Unfortunately, this often means I’ve swamped my nappy when we’ve been out and about. A wet nappy isn’t much of a hindrance to me just getting on with stuff. Mum always carries disposables and nappy rash cream in her shoulder bag so if I feel the need, can change me as soon as she finds a suitable spot, although sometimes I do it myself.
Of course, I prefer mum doing it, she makes sure everything is wiped clean and all the fabric is neatly tucked into my plastic pants. I love these intimate moments because mum is always positive, smiling and encouraging. When she’s done there’s always that final loving tap to my heavily padded bottom as she smooths it all into position. She’ll give me that look, our own private knowing look, then whisper a few reassuring words that leave me feeling cosy and warm. As I say, I’m used to it but to me it confirms her continued love. Besides, mum seems to like looking after me and I’m blessed to have a mother who cares so much. I think I’m still her ‘sweet little cherub’, only a little bit bigger.
For this current holiday mum has bought some new, super-fitting rubber nappy covers that feel fantastic to wear. They’re glossy but tough and in an array of bright colours that I think look incredible.
Thankfully, the new, thicker, shiny light blue rubber pants she’s invested in keeps everything sealed and secured both day and night. She’d found them online before we left the UK as they reminded her of our trip. Even with the Mediterranean weather being so warm it’s nice to fall asleep on my bed wearing such chunky protection with their glistening cover. Mum says that when it catches the light they sort of shimmer and glow… she says that could be a description of me; silly I know, but nice to hear.
There is definitely something special about what I wear… and what I like. Mum says the soft silky rubber matches the wonderful Mediterranean character; warm, colourful, laid-back, whilst I look the most contented boy in the world. I suppose I am because I have nothing at all to worry about.
Happy=Nappy, Nappy=Happy, Happy=Nappy
A mother’s thoughts
After the disastrous attempt at circumcision I realised I’d made a huge mistake and damaged my little boy. His slap-dash approach to going to the toilet was frankly annoying and the fact he didn’t seem to notice or care was driving me mad, I looked for a solution. I honestly thought I was doing him a favour by having that flappy bit of skin removed because of the positive arguments for doing so, together with the words of assurance from Peter; the man who actually did it, convinced me it was the right move. However, once the deed was done, and I saw the impact it had on Terry, I knew I’d have to make amends somehow.
It was quite drastic action to take just to prevent him leaving puddles around, especially when I read that quite a lot of boys had the same problem guiding their pee into the correct space. It would seem that a large number of uncircumcised boys have trouble with their foreskin, which sends the stream off in different directions. Apparently mine is not, or was not, the only toilet to have puddles all over the place. Alas, I only found out about that unedifying fact after he’d had the tortuous ‘snip’.
It took longer than normal (if normal is the correct term) for it to heal. In those early days its slightly misshapen angle and continued redness gave it a look of not actually having mended at all. It was unfortunate that Terry constantly worried about it even when it appeared to operate as it should in a growing boy. However, with the application of lotions, creams etc. he welcomed the constant attention believing it was doing some good.
Nevertheless, guilt sent my protective genes into overdrive. I knew what had happened was my fault but, as I also knew I couldn’t reattach it, I needed to find a way of making things better. To begin with he was in so much distress from the operation I thought he’d never speak to me again. However, something did happen, he started wetting the bed and needed me to make the misery go away.
So that was my job; to relieve him of the discomfort he was in. I set about that mission with determination to make my little boy comfy and happy. Though at the time I had no idea the way I went about it would lead to an area I found strangely heart-warming.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14px]What that way was… I’d read on one of the internet’s ‘helpful’ info sites, where parents exchange views and offer solutions, that for an injured penis a soft nappy might be more comforting than normal everyday wear. It could have been I was clutching at straws for a solution and although it seemed the last thing my boy would appreciate, I thought I’d give it a go.
Oddly enough, in my sister Jen’s usual angry way she’d recommended this course of action earlier as a punishment but I’d not given it any thought. She was very bitter and angry about the whole idea of a boy spraying urine around like he was marking some kind of territory. I think if Terry had been hers he would have found himself with a blistered bottom and wearing protection on a daily basis.
Although that wasn’t the way I treated my son, now others were also offering it not as a punishment but as a possible temporary solution I thought it couldn’t harm. My boy was sore and I explained that a viable solution was a nice soft nappy. He looked at me like I’d suggested to remove his penis altogether but I managed to convince him to give it a try. I explained that if he wasn’t more comfortable he wouldn’t have to keep it… if he wasn’t happy.
So, as he’d started to wet the bed in his sleep the padding took care of both problems and quite efficiently if I say so myself, but I needed him to know just how much I cared.
I don’t like to go on about it (and I know I shouldn’t) but my ten year old son in a nappy was a delightful sight. He looked so much younger, dependant, uncertain and when he looked to me for guidance, even after what had happened, so very trusting. The fact that when a thick fabric nappy was applied, and he hadn’t reacted badly (and more importantly actually seemed grateful for the relief), I wondered what else I could do.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14px]It was a hug. Yes, as simple as that… a hug.
When I held him and calmed his anxiety, when I patted his nicely padded bottom before bed, when I whispered that all would be okay and that he had nothing to worry about, he accepted the situation. What was even more remarkable, as he clung dependently to my neck, was the impression he didn’t blame me… he needed me to make things better. However, despite this, my guilt still persisted.
‘Distraction’ from his injury was also suggested by those advice givers on the net and who was I to think they were wrong after what I’d done to my son. ‘Keep his mind from dwelling on the damage and find him something else to focus on’. Treats seemed a good option… it also assuaged some of that overpowering blame I continued to feel as I watched my robust young son replaced by a timid pre-teen wearing a nappy.
I didn’t want him to think he didn’t have options so I made his underwear more absorbent by sewing in some extra padding. The idea was that while it was painful for him to pee they should act as a temporary barrier, which I hoped at school would at least give him time to get to the boy’s room.
However, I noticed a couple of things, psychological things; he wasn’t as bold or as argumentative as he’d become (which I’m sure was an age thing) and (and this was most important) he didn’t seem bothered by wearing a nappy and protection at home. He wore his booster undies to school because even he wasn’t brave enough for his class mates to know he wore that kind of protection, but, all in all, I saw little in the way of resentment.
I’m not sure that he liked his padded underpants much but they were better than anything else for school. Although, he always appeared relieved when home and could just wander about wearing a soft nappy that gently held things in place.
His nightly wetting continued so needed extra insulation for sleeping in but I suggested (making sure he was waterproof), that if we went anywhere special he might then also consider wearing extra padding. The fear of having an accident in public meant his anxiety levels were already high so was predisposed to that particular argument. Almost relieved he wore additional covering on any visit away from home.
Unexpectedly, once at home and in a nappy Terry seemed a lot more at ease, although if I wasn’t around, he’d search me out and want a hug at every opportunity. I’m convinced that extra bit of wadding made him emotional and dependent. Now, I’m only human and desperately wanted that affection from my boy. So, big decision; as I was finding Terry much more compliant (and I have to admit more loving) I fostered the idea that a nappy would benefit the healing process. I also suggested that he drink lots of fluids, mainly water, to keep his damaged penis well-flushed to avoid infection. He took to this theory, apparently relieved he could hide his damaged penis away in the folds of the soft fabric.
I encouraged him to think for himself but affirmed my opinion that he always looked happy once wearing a nappy. I constantly told him that comfort and happiness were what he should aim for and that other people’s opinion shouldn’t be worried about. Whenever he was in a nappy I have to admit I was all smiles and reassurance, which I think put him at ease with that part of the situation at least.
I’d occasionally hear him mumbling or sometimes singing to himself; Happy=Nappy, Nappy=Happy, Happy=Nappy, which I thought was very sweet and an indication that he was okay with the state of affairs.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14px]I didn’t insist he wore padding; I simply let him decide the speed at which his recovery suited him best. I was amazed that he appeared to be in no rush to lose his night time protection but then again, he was habitually using it. Each morning he woke up soaked so I thought I’d pretend that it was just something that happened and not make a big deal about it. Also, in the back of my mind, I wondered if I was responsible for that as well. I mean, he’d never wet before the operation and now… well… something psychosomatic happened in his sleep which made getting to the toilet a nonstarter. Of course, the gallons of liquid I encouraged him to drink might have had something to do with it as well.
He seemed grateful that I wasn’t chastising him for it and became more and more reliant on such padding. He gave the impression it was what he needed to feel secure and to be honest, he was so affectionate, looked cute and happy so didn’t want to upset such emotions.
The thing I suspected was that he was feeling guilty about wetting every night and he thought that I thought heavy protection was needed. So, when he was well bundled up he didn’t object because either he also thought it was needed or he didn’t want to argue because he wanted to please me. Whichever way, my boy was always well-padded at night so each of us was doing our bit.
So, perhaps guilt was a deciding factor in what we both did?[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14px]Without forcing anything I made it known that a nappy had my approval and he shouldn’t be ashamed if he found it useful for his own requirements. Also, I could see he was anxious about wetting. So again, without making a big thing about it, I advised that he should be able to wear protection where and when he liked, and not just for sleeping, if it made him feel safer. As a result I always laid out a pre-folded nappy and vinyl pants on his bed or dresser so they were available for whenever he felt the need.
Later, when Bradley came to stay, I thought that might make a difference but, after our guest’s little accident, I saw a way of having two boys wearing protection and then Terry wouldn’t necessarily feel he was the only one. I couldn’t help but be chuffed with the uncanny way things worked out.
After all the conflict poor Bradley had witnessed I think he was relieved to be with people who loved each other. Without trying too hard he could see Terry and I cherished each other, he even saw that when it came to putting my son in his nappy, there was no strife and he accepted it as the most natural thing to do. I sensed this quickly made inroads in to our little guests mind and, as we had no problem with it, he must have thought nor should he… so he didn’t.
Terry encouraged Bradley; Bradley looked up to Terry, and as he wore a nappy to bed, didn’t find it too strange to have to wear one also. I was really pleased with how speedily the nine year old came to terms with the idea of protection being something appropriate to wear to sleep in at least.
Having two boys sometimes running around the house wearing just nappies was quite a sight. I have to say it brought out my mothering instinct to an even higher degree (and I thought I was already at a pretty lofty level) and all I wanted to do was preserve their innocent fun both gave the impression to be enjoying.
I think like Terry, young Bradley really liked the attention of having his padding changed and the various ointments smoothed into his nappy area. It makes for a very intense link and after all the drama he’d been through, he appeared to enjoy this personal connection. Again, I didn’t demand our guest wear one it just turned out that way, although in truth little Bradley did have a few issues that a nappy certainly helped with.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14px]Once Jane took Bradley away to start a new life together I worried that Terry would start to feel alone again, so I came up with a new idea. Financially we’d always been comfortable but not excessively so, however, when a sudden windfall materialised I saw an opportunity to do something we’d never even thought about before.
Up until then we’d always had our summer holidays in the UK but I wondered if being exposed to different cultures might be another ‘distraction’ from which he would benefit. We started to spend a few of the longer school holidays in the Mediterranean where he loved the sun, sea and sand. As it turned out it wasn’t so much of a culture change, more of a climate change… he just loved the hot weather.
With the time waiting at airports and then the possibility of the flight being delayed, I recommended he be well padded for the journey. He didn’t take to the idea immediately but when I implied it was for hygienic reasons (keeping his penis from being infected and not having to queue up for a messy toilet) he seemed more on board with the concept.
The thing is… to me there appears to be nothing wrong with his penis. It has healed and apart from a red scar, which I suppose is something but not that troublesome, I can’t see much of a problem. Of course Terry has his own opinion and the constant wetting has made him very aware of that area and still thinks it is something distasteful and to be hid away. The fact that he finds keeping it concealed behind a ream of material socially acceptable is up to him… and of course, I do not discourage him in that belief.
I have mentioned on more than one occasion that cleanliness is next to godliness so he is scrupulous about having a pristine nappy always accessible. I use both disposables and fabric nappies (depending on when and where we’re going) but he prefers thick, soft fabric ones and they are always contained within his favourite soft vinyl pants… of which there are many.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14px]Even wearing his protection on balmy sultry Mediterranean evenings and we go out to dinner the bulk never seems to bother him. In fact, if anything, he’s out of his reserve, more than happy to socialise and gets on with people; strangers hold no fear for him. Whether this is simply down to being in a different country, or the sun has a positive effect on him, it’s a personality change I’ve noticed because he’s never this open back home.
On more than one occasion his protection would be observed but it didn’t faze him. He’d just brave out what was said or, if they appeared genuinely interested, explain his need for it all. I’d never been more proud of my son than at those times.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14px]As my boy has gotten older he still has a need for padding. The night time especially is still a wet event, which I really don’t know if he’s making happen or simply does no longer have any control. In fact, he now wears protection most of the time. He’s not embarrassed by it nor does he feel disadvantaged because it’s his choice. I hope I’m not fooling myself but… I’ve never made him have to wear a nappy; it has always been up to him… and he appears to be thriving on it.
However, from those first few weeks when he wore one to protect his injured penis I saw how much more comfortable it appeared to make him. The fact at the same time he started to wet at night made it more convenient for him to wear one as often as he felt appropriate. Now I have an affectionate fourteen year old that just happens to wear a nappy.
I continue to buy new products as they come on the market just so he has choice but I don’t require him to wear them either… I just give him the option. He has told me that it feels strange when he doesn’t have the protection tightly wrapped around his ‘bits’ and likes the padded bolster when he’s out and about. I think it gives him some sort of extra confidence. Of course I’ve never discouraged what he wears because there is something about a teenager still dependent on nappies that is quite endearing… well to me anyhow.
We hug a lot. I pat the nice soft cushion that he seems so content to wear and hear that soft rustle of his plastic cushion. I think we both get something from that sound which is mutually beneficial.
Whether at home, where he spends most of his time wearing only his protection, or when in a different country, where he sports the more colourful of his leak-proof pants… to see him completely at ease with whatever he decides to wear is very pleasing.
I always said that a nappy makes him happy and he seems to support that idea and… I couldn’t be happier myself.
My boy hasn’t grown out of nappies, he’s grown into them.[/SIZE]
## The End ##