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Georgie When I first knew about George he was wearing nappies, we both were because we were two years old. We were next door neighbours and played together all the time. Our mums were as thick as thieves so wherever I went, he went and vice versa. We were in and out of each other’s houses so much it was often difficult for our young minds to know which was home. We loved each other’s company and would have started school together at five if his dad hadn’t run off. His mother Denise was a homemaker and his father Donald worked away quite a lot. Like my dad his father had a great job because where we lived wasn’t cheap and the three-storey, twelve room house they lived in was almost identical to ours. I have an older brother and sister, James and Florence but George was an only child. However, after his father left, the house was sold and Denise and her five year-old son moved away and I never saw them again... that is... until three weeks ago. + I’m sixteen now and like a lot of girls my age do a bit of babysitting to bring in some extra cash. I know we aren’t poor but both mum and dad think it important that I learn the value of money by making some of my own. I understand what they want for me and have built up quite a good reputation as a reliable and honest babysitter... and I suppose it helps that, unlike some of my friends, I actually like children. The other reason was that my parents had promised to match whatever amount I’d saved when I wanted driving lessons and eventually a car. That was incentive enough for me to work as often as I could. I knew later on a car would be indispensable for whatever career I wanted to pursue. I got a call on my mobile three weeks ago from a Mrs Thompson who desperately needed someone to sit her son as she had a sudden urgent meeting and wondered, as I’d been ‘highly recommended’, if I was available. This was Friday evening and she needed me the following morning from 9am to approximately 3pm. Now it’s always nice to get a recommendation but this person lived a few miles away from where I normally worked. However, as she said such nice things, and I was available, decided as long as she covered my travel expenses as well as my fee that was fine. She agreed so the following day I arrived at the requested time in the morning because she had to be out of the house by nine. I recognised her straight away but she’d changed back to her pre-married name. When I knew her she was Mrs Hardy and as much a mum to me as my own. She was fun and friendly but now I saw a determined and humourless person in her place. She didn’t quite recognise me but did say that she once knew a Melanie Philips over ten years ago and wondered if I was the same one. She had a wry smile when I said I was and asked about my family. I was able to briefly bring her up to date on that particular subject before she was out the door and on her way to the meeting. I did manage to ask if she’d remarried, had any other children but she just grimaced and said that not a lot had changed and her son was upstairs playing with his toys. As George would be my age I simply thought that she must have a younger son and that’s who I’d be looking after. As she hadn’t mentioned George I thought it prudent not to ask in case he’d gone off with his father in the end. As most parents do, she left me a list of phone numbers and because she wasn’t expected back until around three that afternoon there was a list of food her son was allowed to eat. Most was already prepared and in the fridge and all I had to do was heat things up and help myself to anything I wanted. The final line of the note told me where I’d find the nappies should I need them. + In my babysitting duties I have changed babies and toddler nappies before, and although it is one of the drawbacks to the job, it has to be done for the comfort of those in your care. I take it very seriously and I like to think that’s one of the reasons I have gained a fairly positive reputation – for being conscientious about such things. I have friends who babysit who’ll wait until the parents come home and tell them that their child must have just filled their nappy, just to avoid that side of the job. Not me. However, as I made my way upstairs to where his mother had indicated his bedroom was, it was a shock to find an almost adult boy dressed in a bright Pokémon t-shirt and matching little yellow shorts. Not only that but his visible yellow plastic pants protruding down the leg holes obviously contained a substantial nappy. It was recognisably George. In the split second he looked up and then went back to his game I noticed the pale blond hair hadn’t changed nor had his blue eyes. As a toddler he was absolutely beautiful and now... well now... he was just as beautiful but very shy, nervous and appeared slightly ill at ease with me. “Hello.” I ventured. He had a toy train he was pushing around a wooden track. Not an electric train but the type of toy a kid of three or four would be given, it didn’t even wind up he just choo-chooed it along. “Hello, what’s your name?” I could see him shiver as he looked up once again. “Georgie.” It was the tiniest of voices. “Well hello Georgie,” I beamed, hoping my enthusiasm would put him at ease but I saw him nervously recoil a little. “Oh, erm, don’t be frightened Georgie... I’m a friend... I’m Melanie.” I looked around his bedroom; it was full of colourful Fisher-Price toys, loads of stuffed animals and dolls. The room was definitely decorated for a toddler and the single bed had a Minions duvet cover. The walls had pinkie-blue combination wallpaper and posters from several Disney cartoons. Not really what one might suspect a sixteen year old boy would want. He was staring at me uncertainly but I kept up my smile and said that I hoped we’d get to be friends, not mentioning at that moment that ten years ago we were inseparable. I asked him to introduce me to his favourite teddy bear. This is usually quite a good ice-breaker when I’d babysat before and I hoped it would work on Georgie. He stood up awkwardly. His plastic pants crinkling as he moved, his shorts were very short indeed and the padding was expanding his bottom outwards. He was obviously well-trained in doing what he was asked immediately and walked, with small, measured steps to his bed and retrieved a large blue fuzzy teddy sat on his pillow. “Ohh Georgie he’s so cuddly,” I enthused, “what’s his name?” He hugged him to his chest and ruffled his nose in the fuzzy material. “Bluey.” Again it was a voice I could hardly hear but I guessed as much. “Well isn’t he a proud bear... I bet he’s so snuggly to sleep with.” Georgie nodded and hugged him even more tightly. This was a strange position to be in. I wasn’t sure what had happened to George, had he been in an accident or perhaps had some ailment that had affected him. However, at the back of my mind I knew that George simply hadn’t grown up. “How old are you Georgie?” He shook his head and again in the quietest voice said, “I don’t know.” “Well I think you are a lucky boy to have such a lovely teddy and all these wonderful toys...” He was sucking on the bear’s ear when I asked if he was hungry, or thirsty. He simply nodded. “OK then, let’s raid the fridge and see what there is for you shall we?” He looked a little scared. “Mummy said I had to stay in my room and play.” “OK,” I had to think quickly, “but hasn’t mummy left me in charge?” He nodded though still unsure. “Well, I see a big boy who needs a drink and perhaps he’d like to come down and keep me company whilst I have one as well.” He still hesitated. I reached out my hand for him to take. “You can bring teddy...” “Bluey.” “Sorry, yes, you can bring Bluey if you want.” He seemed happy with this and took my hand. I smiled brightly; his touch was that of a small, bewildered child. His hand was soft and, as I looked into his eyes, his long eyelashes and clear pale skin made him look a lot younger than his real age. He was the same height as me (around five foot four) but looked so timid. His bright yellow t-shirt only hung down to the top of his matching shorts. A bright Pokémon design filled his chest and copies of the same character on his shorts clung to his bulging hips. When he moved the rustle made it abundantly clear he was wearing a nappy, whilst there was also a babyish smell of pee and powder about him. It may have been because of the size of his protection but with tentative steps he slowly followed me down to the kitchen. + Although the journey to the kitchen was short it did give me time to wonder again at George’s, sorry Georgie’s predicament. I couldn’t imagine the trauma he’d gone through when his father abandoned him, or what tortures or terrors he’d been through since. What I did decide was that this poor anxious looking toddler hadn’t matured at all and was stuck in a toddler’s world. He seemed slow and nervy but there were no signs of abuse or that he wasn’t being fed, although he was very slim he didn’t look or act in the least bit neglected. I looked in the fridge, it was full. The top shelf contained pre-packed meals, whilst the second shelf displayed a host of baby’s bottles with latex nipples and a few small dishes covered in cling-film. Each one had the time it needed in the microwave and they were numbered so I knew which meal to give him first. The first colourful bowl was just segments of fresh fruit, which he accepted. “Would you like your...bott... erm... your...” “Baba.” He nodded tentatively as I held out the first baby’s bottle of what looked like milk. “Baba? OK. Let me warm it up first shall I?” I knew not to warm it in the microwave but then I saw there was a bottle warmer next to the toaster so was aiming to use that. However, he shook his head, perhaps he preferred it cold, and went back to slowly eating the cool fruit one small piece at a time. As he ate I watched closely. He was slow and graceful in his movements, never trying to cram more in his mouth than there was room for. He’d chew slowly, like he’d been told to chew each piece twenty times before swallowing. He occasionally looked up at me and I have to say, those long lashes and bright blue eyes had an effect on me – he looked so cute. I know it isn’t a term I would normally use on a teenage boy but Georgie was lovely, I just wanted to scoop him up (even with the difficulty his size would entail) and mother him. I know I should have been feeling sorry for him, or at least angry at his mother for keeping him the way he was but, in truth, I found him a beautiful person... who just happened to be a toddler. All the other boys his age at school were in the main, atrocious, noisy, bragging, smelly, annoying and generally up themselves. They never seemed to stop from hitting on any pretty girl or making the less pretty feel awful about that fact. Boys were just unpleasant and it was an absolute bonus, despite the obvious peculiarity of the situation, to find someone like Georgie not affected by all that nonsense. He finished his fruit and reached for his baba and immediately started suckling from it. There was shyness, a child-like vulnerability as he slipped the latex teat between his lips but evidently this was the way he took his drink. A sixteen year-old, even dressed as he was, shouldn’t be doing that... and yet...? There was something so natural in this unnatural state. My curiosity was aroused to know more on how George had ended up as Georgie. + ...to be continued