Easter Sunday Morning

Easter Sunday Morning
By Mildred Olson

Grace Lutheran Church, 1954

Your Mother had brought you to Church that Easter Sunday morning back in 1954. You looked so cute dressed in your pretty yellow Sunday outfit, with your cloth diapers and rubber pants bulging out your bottom. You were so thickly diapered that morning, you were bow-legged as you toddled and waddled around the Church Nursery smelling like baby powder. All the other pretty mommies at Church that morning smiled motherly smiles when they saw your bulging diapered bottom toddling around the Nursery.

At 11:00 AM the Easter Egg Hunt began in the Nursery, with all the babies toddling around looking for the pretty eggs that their mommies had hidden. You were giggling and jabbering with the other babies as you all looked for the pretty eggs hidden in the Nursery. When you found a pretty blue one, you toddled back to your mommy, happy and giggly, but with a pungent odor in the seat of your pants.

After you toddled over to your pretty mommy to show her all the pretty Easter eggs in your basket, the tattletale smell of poop wafted up to her nose, prompting a motherly smile and a sniff of the air.

(Sniff, Sniff,)

“Shooooo! I think I smell something.” She said, smiling at the other moms who were sitting next to her. “I think a certain somebody just pooped their pants, because I sure do smell something stinky.”

The other moms in the Nursery all smiled and nodded their heads. They all had babies in diapers too, and they could all smell the odor of poop that was wafting up all around them, thickening the air.

As the other moms all watched, smiling motherly smiles, your pretty mommy lifted up your shirt and gently pulled back the waistband of your Easter outfit, looking down into the seat of your diapers. When your mommy saw the huge mess in the back of your britches, she smiled a motherly smile and confirmed that you had pooped your pants.
“Uh, oh,” She playfully said. “Somebody filled their britches.”

The other moms were all smiling warm, motherly smiles as your pretty mommy then took you by the hand and led you to the changing table, toddling behind her with a huge mess in the seat of your pants.

“Somebody just filled their britches.” She told everyone in the Nursery. “Mommy has to change his pants before he can play again.”

You looked so cute that Easter Sunday morning. Toddling behind your pretty mommy dressed in your pretty Easter outfit, with a thick odor of poop wafting up from your bottom. As you toddled behind her, hand in hand toward the changing table, the other moms were giggling and holding their noses, fanning the air around them to shoo-away the smell. It smelled like a stockyard in your pants that morning. Your pretty mommy was smiling a motherly smile and holding her nose too.
When you arrived at the changing table, all the moms in the Nursery were giggling and smiling and talking about the awful smell.
“Shooo! Somebody stinks!” They all said, fanning their noses.

Your pretty mommy smiled a motherly smile and lifted you onto the changing table and told the other moms that you always poop your pants in the Church Nursery on Sunday mornings.

“He likes to poop his britches in the Nursery.” Your mommy told them, as she unsnapped your Easter outfit to reveal your bulging poopy diaper, as you slobbered and jabbered on the changing table.

Your pretty mommy then pulled your rubber baby pants down to your ankles, leaving your socks and shoes on, as she unpinned your dirty diaper, smiling a motherly smile at you. The other moms were smiling too, as they watched your mommy lift up your legs to reveal your messy, poopy bottom for all to see. There were giggles and smiles, and lots of mommies saying, “Shooo-wee, he stinks!” as everyone in the Nursery fanned their noses and talked about the mess in your pants.

With your legs up in the air, and your rubber pants around your ankles, your pretty mommy wiped your poopy bottom in front of all the other moms in the Church Nursery. Everyone was craning their necks to watch your mommy wipe your bottom with a warm, wet washcloth.

“Somebody pooped their britches.” Your mommy kept saying, as she lovingly pulled your legs back over your head, and gently wiped your chubby bottom as everyone watched. All the moms in the Nursery were smiling motherly smiles as your mommy wiped your poopy bottom.
After a fresh clean diaper was slipped under your backside, your pretty mommy started powdering your clean chubby bottom with lots and lots of baby powder. She powdered your bottom with your legs up in the air, humming a nursery rhyme and smiling a motherly smile.

“Babies need their bottoms powdered after they mess their britches.” She said, as you cooed and jabbered on the changing table. Your mommy loved to powder your bottom when you pooped your pants.

Once you were powdered and diapered, your mommy pulled on your rubber baby pants and fastened the snaps on your pretty Easter outfit, cooing and smiling at you, as she talked about your dirty diaper.

“Goodness. Mommy had to change some poopy pants, didn’t she? Yeah, somebody filled their britches in the nursery. Yep, they sure did. That’s why Mommy smelled something. Somebody pooped their pants.”

When your mommy placed you back on the floor, you toddled off with your Easter basket, your bottom bulging with double diapers and rubber pants and smelling like baby powder. Your mommy smiled a motherly smile as she watched you toddle around the Nursery looking for more Easter eggs, with the smell of powder wafting up behind you.

“He always poops his pants in the Nursery.” She told the other moms, who smiled motherly smiles. The Church Nursery smelled like poop and baby powder that Easter Sunday morning in 1954. It was a tattletale smell that announced to everyone in the Nursery;
“Somebody just pooped their britches.” THE END.

Re: Easter Sunday Morning

Well, these are both very nicely written. That is to say that the actual writing is very smooth and enjoyable. However, both of them basically amount to: let’s write a thorough and detailed account of changing a two-year-old’s poopy diaper in 1954.​ That’s it. No conflict. No real characters. Not much of anything besides lots of mentions of stink and poop.

Re: Easter Sunday Morning

You are correct. I basically write for an “audience of one”, that is to say, myself. Now, I do share my stories with others publicly like this one, on this forum, in the hope that others will derive enjoyment from them as well. Although there are many people who enjoy diapers, there are very few people like me who are into a more wholesome, 1950s style that involves “gentle mothering” centered upon changing poopy diapers and no sexual themes.

Yes, you are also correct about a lack of conflict. But that is whole point of my stories. Was there any conflict when our mothers were changing our dirty diapers when we were infants and toddlers? Of course not, we were in the arms of unconditional love and acceptance in those bygone days. As babies in diapers at that age, we could burp, toot, and fill our pants as we slobbered onto our bibs, and our mothers loved us unconditionally. That is what I try to capture in my stories: a world that is free of conflict, and full of motherly love for a baby who just dirtied his diapers. I make no boast about being any kind of professional writer, or one who writes for a mass audience, I am just someone who wants to recreate in a story all the wonderful moms I knew back in the late 50s early 60s who loved to change poopy diapers.

I hope that others enjoy my stories, but I’m OK if they don’t.
Thanks for the feedback.

Re: Easter Sunday Morning

There’s nothing too terribly wrong with writing a simple scene. If that’s your goal, go ahead.
However, I think the biggest issue with this particular work is the excessive amount of reiteration.
You used the phrase “fill their britches” and “smiled a motherly smile” so many times that I actually had to double-check that I wasn’t rereading the same paragraph over again. I’m all for going into great detail, but you have to mix it up a bit. Frankly, what you have here could be covered in a fraction of the word count. Don’t fluff word count unless you actually have something more to say, instead, I’d recommend looking at the scene you have and its significance to you. I’m sure you can come up with plenty of details and observations to make the scene really come to life.

A couple other things to look at:
You only need to establish the time and date once.
I’ve seen plenty of old-fashioned mothers gossiping idly and joking about where certain smells are coming from, but none of them talk like what you have here. None of the mothers seem to have any personality at all, and instead only recite essentially two or three lines to each other throughout the entire scene.
Oh, and the word you’re looking for is “telltale” not “tattletale.”

I get where you’re coming from with this, but if you want it to capture that innocent feel, free of conflict and responsibility, you’ll want to give it some more personality. This may seem a bit harsh, but this scene is rather dry and repetitive. I’m not trying to discourage you or anything, but I think you can do a lot better with this scene.

Re: Easter Sunday Morning