Making Up For Lost Time [Chapter 3 uploaded May 16 2024]

[justme9000]

Hello,

This is the first chapter of the first story I've ever published. Critical feedback and corrections are more than welcome, but please bear in mind that this story is completely fictional and I the medical aspects aren't intended to be accurate to real life.

Chapter 1 – A Natural Approach

Oliver sat, staring at his shoes with his chin in his hand, occasionally looking around the brightly decorated doctor’s waiting room and catching a reassuring glance from his mother, Abigail. He let his legs swing idly to pass the time but quickly stopped so as avoid any unnecessary attention.

“Oliver? Oliver Wilson?” he heard a voice enquire. He looked up again to see the doctor poking her head out of the office.

He trailed behind his mother with his head hung low as the doctor welcomed them into her office. This was a new doctor. She introduced herself as Dr. Richardson and explained that she would be taking over for Oliver’s old doctor, a kindly, easy-going old man who, despite his general apprehensiveness about doctor’s appointments, Oliver had been fond of. By contrast, she was much younger – late thirties, with her hair tied back in a ponytail and an energetic attitude. She seemed eager to make a good impression on her new patients and Oliver found himself warming up to her. Over the course of the appoint, any lingering doubts in Abigail’s mind that this woman might be anything but a competent expert with her son’s best interest at heart were also quashed. After a review of his file and the usual battery of tests and questions, Dr. Richardson broached a sore subject.

“Well” she intoned in a way that Oliver could tell she was choosing her next words carefully. “I’m a little concerned about young Oliver’s growth.” she began. That was the understatement of the century as far as he was concerned. At just under 4”6’ and 64 lbs, he was the smallest kid in his sixth grade class by a mile. “Some other doctors might be inclined to recommend hormone injections, but I’d prefer to exhaust our natural options before we go down that path. From what you’ve told me about Oli’s sleeping habits and his picky eating, the good news is I think there’s a lot of room for improvement. I’m going to prescribe a course of two nutritional supplement. One for the day to help bridge any deficiencies in his diet and a night time one that will also help with sleep. You can get them at a speciality shop at the edge of town.” she explained as she typed up the prescription. “We’ll see how this goes and then regroup in a few months. Don’t hesitate to call if you have any questions about the treatment.” Dr. Richardson said as she stood, bringing the appointment to a close, Abigail thanked her and led Oliver outside to pay, where he was too caught off guard by the receptionist’s offer of a lollipop to decline it before his mother accepted it on his behalf and prompted a stuttered “Thank you.” out of him.

They made their way back to the car where the journey home was mostly in silence as Oliver contemplated his ambivalence the outcome of the appointment. He was eager to hit his long anticipated growth spurt, and he was more than relieved to avoid any needles, but he didn’t even like most of the foods he was told to eat. He didn’t like the sound of whatever a nutritional supplement was, but he felt he had escaped lightly over all.

They weren’t long home before he was lying on his stomach in front of the TV listening to the fan on his game console churning as he nonchalantly kicked his feet in the air. “Hey kiddo.” interrupted his mom. He braced himself to be told to get some fresh air or find something constructive to do, but it didn’t come. “I’ve gotta run a few errands, wanna tag along for the ride?” she offered. “Can’t I just hang out here?” Visits to the doctor scored sympathy points that they both knew he he was angling to cash in. She paused just long enough to make him doubt his strategy. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay on your own?” she teased. “Mooom” he groaned but couldn’t help but smile. “Well, okay, but don’t let any axe murderers in.” “Not unless they have a puppy.” he countered as he turned his attention back to his game.

Abigail punched the address Dr. Richardson had given her into her car’s GPS and pulled out of the driveway. The place was about 25 minutes drive. Technically within the town limits, but not a part of town she had ever been too or would have necessarily considered in town. She drove without the radio on, deep in thought. This was the start of the Summer vacation and she hoped this could be an opportunity to turn a new leaf with him. He had been increasingly down in himself the entire school year and had become more defiant and withdrawn, rejecting her every bid at the care and affection she felt he needed. It didn’t seem like these thoughts were rolling around in her head for long before a robotic voice was instructing her to take a left turn. The turn was inconspicuous, obscured by shrubbery and she would have easily missed it if not for the direction.

She slowed as her car wound over the gravel parking lot which hosted a modestly sized brick building. She pulled into a spot and, approaching the building with the slight trepidation would-be trespassers reserve for when they’re not entirely sure they’re in the right place, she gazed up at the sign above the door with the words Tender Care printed with in pastel letters, angled so as to appear to be on toy wooden blocks. She pushed her way through the front door, causing a bell to ring as she passed the threshold. If the building had been modest from the outside, it was comparatively cathedralesque internally, with seemingly every cubic inch of space planned and accounted for. She had expected a pharmacy, but before her ranged all manner of equipment and clothing. She was so focused on taking it all in, she almost didn’t catch the smiling woman in her peripheral vision.

“Hello there. You’re a new face here if I’m not mistaken.”

She was a kindly faced woman in her mid fifties with a name tag bearing the name Elizabeth, but she introduced herself as Liz, the shop’s sole proprietor.

“Oh, hi! My son’s paediatrician gave me a prescription she said I should fill here.” she explained, digging through her purse for the document in question.

“Dr. Richardson?”

“How did you know?”

“She sends a lot of customers our way, so you’re in good company.”

As Abigail was led through the store, she had more time to appraise their other offerings. At first she had taken it for a generic medical supplies store, but on closer inspection a distinct theme was starting to emerge. There were cribs, high chairs, and strollers arranged for display on the floor. Most of the clothing on display had cartoonish appliqués and unusual fasteners. She would have taken it for a baby equipment store sooner, but was thrown off by how much bigger much of the equipment was here.

“Excuse me, but what kind of store is this exactly?” enquired Abigail as they reached the till.

“We cater to the families of children with a wide range of developmental and maturation delays, just like your little guy. So, this is a two week supply” Elizabeth began to explain, gesturing at two large plastic containers she had taken from a nearby shelf and placed on the counter. A green container bearing the word Nutriform in large text and picture of a smiling tot far younger than Oliver stood along side a second, nearly identical container, except that it was blue, and the label depicted a soundly sleeping child and it had the subtitle Sleeptite in smaller text below the main Nutriform brand.

“It will all be explained on the insert, but you’re going to want to give him a scoop of the green one mixed into his bottles at meal times and the blue at bed time. You can mix half a scoop of each together for nap times, but that’s just a tip from me. He might be a little groggy afterwards.”

“Oh, I think there’s been some misunderstanding.” chuckled Abigail. “My son is 13.”

“Right, how silly of me.” conceded the shop attendant with a glint on her eye. “Still, I know Dr. Richardson well and the prescription is par for the course so no mistake there.” She bagged the two containers for Abigail as she began to ring up her purchase. “Now some good news today: These are fully covered on your insurance, and that will go for most everything here.” she explained, handing the brown paper bag to Abigail. “So no excuse to be a stranger if you find there’s anything else little Oliver needs.” she grinned leading her towards the door. They said their farewells and Abigail walked back out to the car, already trying to figure out how on Earth she was going to sell Oliver on this without a having a meltdown.

By the time she had arrived home, she had resolved to transfer the contents of the containers to two inconspicuous containers. No sooner had she placed the bag on the kitchen worktop after making sure the coast was clear, than by the time she had completed the momentary returning home ritual of neatly storing her shoes, bag and keys in the foyer, a curious Oliver had ascended a step stool next to the worktop to interrogate the bags’ contents, hoping his mother’s presumed foray to the store might have yieled some chips or cookies.

“Mom...” he asked uneasily. “What are these?” he said holding up the blue Nutriform container like a cross between something from show and tell and a discarded murder weapon. Abigail took a sharp intake of breath and bit her tongue, her plan instantly dashed.

“No...” Oliver’s voice started to croak as the pieces fell into place in his head.

“Sweetheart... The doctor said.”

“No, no, no, NO, NO!”

“Honey, please just listen.” but it was too late.

“I’M NOT A FUCKING BABY!’ he screamed as he stormed past her.

Abigail listened to the as-of-late all too familiar sound of heavy foot fall stamping up stairs, a brief pause, and the bang of a bedroom door being slammed to complete the sequence. She exhaled sharply and let her shoulders fall before following in pursuit, with softer foot steps. She gingerly opened the bedroom door and peaked in to see Oliver turned towards the wall, curled up in a fetal position, with his head in his hands, quietly weeping. The curtains were already drawn, darkening the room somewhat but the evening Summer sun streamed through the gaps.

She took a seat on his bedside and placed a hand on his back.

“It’s not fair, mom.” he said through muffled sobs.

“I know sweetie. I know it’s not exactly what you were expecting. You know I only want to do what’s best for you right?” she ventured, and took his silence as a queue to continue. “I know it’s not easy, but, you know, part of growing up means making the decisions that are best for you in the long term, even if they’re not easy right now. This Summer could be a bit of a fresh start. A lot can change in a few months.”

He turned around and edged towards her. “I’m sorry I shouted.” he said in a hoarse whisper. Tears were streaming down his face and his eyes were red from crying.

“I know, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m not mad. Hey, we have some coupons for that new pizza place you wanted to try. How about we order in tonight?”

“Really?” he asked, perking up slightly.

“My treat.’ she smiled at him.

Approximately 45 minutes later Oliver descended the stairs, far more quietly than he had ascended them earlier. His mother sat on the couch with a welcoming smile. In addition to a steaming hot pizza and two large soft drinks, a glass sat of a pale white liquid, like milk with a slightly yellow tinge.

“You can have it now or you can have the pizza first if you prefer.” explained Abigal.

He settle into the couch beside her and picked up a slice of Pizza. Abigail had put one of his favourite Pixar movies from when he was younger on the TV, hoping in the back of her mind that the familiarity might help ease him into the change of routine. Oliver ate slowly, putting off the inevitable.

“I think you should try some of your drink now.” Abigail coaxed gently when they were about halfway through the movie. With some hesitation picked up the glass and raised it to his lips. It tasted more or less like milk, which Oliver usually liked, except sweet, creamier, and just – to his surprise – better over all. Though he wasn’t about to let on so he made sure to drink slowly. About 15 minutes after he finished the glass, he was already flagging. His eyes felt heavy and he laid his head on his mother’s shoulder without even thinking about it. He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them, the end credits of the movie were rolling. He turned to see his mother smiling warmly at him.

“I think you’re about ready for the land of nod, little man.” she said softly. He was too tired to argue. She led him by the hand up to his room. He felt like he was in a losing battle for his consciousness as he changed into his pyjamas and slumped into bed. The last thing he remembered was the silhouette of his mother tucking him in before he passed out just before 8:30 p.m. with the sun still firmly in the sky, hours before his usual bedtime, if he even had one.

Abigail stared at her son sleeping soundly. She hadn’t expected the sleep aid to be so effective. She hoped that, now that they were over the initial hump, the journey might be smoother from here on out. She kissed him on the cheek and closed the door gently behind her.

“Rise and shine sleepyhead, it’s almost 10:00 a.m.” Abigail half-sang as she entered Oliver’s room. He rolled out of bed as he came to. His initial feeling of being extremely well rested gave way to a far less pleasant feeling of cold clamminess all over. He pulled his sheets away to see that, along with most of his bedding. his pyjamas were soaked from below his knees almost up to his chest.

 

[Apache Raccoon]

The story seems ok but it's a little hard to read because the formatting is a mess and that font you've used is weird.

[justme9000]

Sorry, the line spacing was very tight in my word processor so I had been leaving spaces between paragraphs. I've fixed that but I don't see a way to change the font. Hopefully it's a bit better now.

[Eagle0769]

Great start interesting too.

Was going to say something about the font but if you fixed it OK.

So Oliver drank the Nutriform from a glass not a bottle?

The nurse should have told Abigail the side effects. Now he is

really going to implode. 🙂

[justme9000]

Thank you. Yeah, the mention of a bottle was just supposed to be an assumption on the shopkeeper's part.

[littlebopeeper]

For a first effort, this is really good.  And you've chosen a theme that is very popular, so there's a good chance you'll get over 1500 views at the outset.  Going forward, the challenge is creativity.  Doctors and nurses of the female variety take a real beating around here, but they pale in comparison to moms and stepmoms with little boys under foot.  Over and over again, the first signs of toxic masculinity result in a return to diapers.  In September of last year, at one point fully 6 of the first 22 stories in this forum were pursuing this theme.  The creative hurdle that has to be cleared is the complete imbalance of power between parent and child.  The kid can be easily destroyed, but how can the kid get out of this box without help?  I can think of only one way to avoid deus ex machina, and I have yet to see it here.  So, give it a shot, and let's see in the next chapter where this looks to be going.    

[kerry]

On 5/6/2024 at 12:05 PM, justme9000 said:

Well, okay, but don’t let any axe murderers in.” “Not unless they have a puppy.” he countered as he turned his attention back to his game.

This is an adorable exchange.

[D503]

Nice start. 

[justme9000]

Thanks for the kind feedback all.

On 5/7/2024 at 11:50 PM, littlebopeeper said:

For a first effort, this is really good.  And you've chosen a theme that is very popular, so there's a good chance you'll get over 1500 views at the outset.  Going forward, the challenge is creativity.  Doctors and nurses of the female variety take a real beating around here, but they pale in comparison to moms and stepmoms with little boys under foot.  Over and over again, the first signs of toxic masculinity result in a return to diapers.  In September of last year, at one point fully 6 of the first 22 stories in this forum were pursuing this theme.  The creative hurdle that has to be cleared is the complete imbalance of power between parent and child.  The kid can be easily destroyed, but how can the kid get out of this box without help?  I can think of only one way to avoid deus ex machina, and I have yet to see it here.  So, give it a shot, and let's see in the next chapter where this looks to be going.    

Thanks. I'm more confident in my ability to write nice sentences than to construct a satisfying story arc, which I've never done, so that remains to be seen. I always see people saying this is a common trope, but I don't notice that many myself. Possibly because I filter pretty aggressively, rarely finishing stories I don't like.

Anyway, here's the next chapter. It's a little shorter because I wrote a ton of exposition between the doctor and Abigail but decided to cut it out because it more or less telegraphed the whole plot. I think it still reads coherently, but I'm just letting it be known in case it stands out.

Chapter 2 - Side Effects May Include

Oliver knelt on his saturated bedding, eyes locked with Abigail for several tense seconds that seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

“I... I... I...” he trembled, wracking his brain for an excuse but none was forthcoming.

Abigail closed the gap between them and pressed his head to her shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to.” was all he sputtered out the, last word dragged out as the floodgates burst and he began to weep.

“I know, I know.” she hushed. “Accidents happen. You just had a little too much soda.”

She held him rocking gently for several minutes until concern for his skin and the mattress prompted her to action. “Come on, why don’t you hop in the shower and I’ll take care of all this?” she said as she reflexively pealed his soaking pyjamas off. She hadn’t undressed him in years, but some dormant maternal instinct took over. She shooed him off to the shower and turned her attention to the bedding.

He stood in the shower and allowed to hot water to wash over him trying to forget about the events of the past few days. He shut off the water and donned his towel before walking back to his bedroom. When he arrived the chaos of the morning’s events had been replaced by freshly washed sheets, creating a conspicuous contrast reminiscent of a crime scene clean-up. Fresh clothes had been laid out for him which he knew meant he was expected to wear them. A pair of yellow cargo shorts and a light blue t-shirt sporting a playful illustration of the planets. These were some of the older items in his rotation that he ordinarily would have objected to individually, let alone as a set, but he didn’t feel like fighting it this morning.

He made his way downstairs with the events of the morning hanging over him. He was greeted with a smile as he entered the kitchen and a plate of fresh French toast, his favorite. He managed a muted thank you and took his seat. Beside his plate was the now familiar glass of Nutriform. This one had been prepared from the green container, not that he could tell the difference. He sipped it without protest and by the end of the meal, the glass was empty but for the coating of residue that lined it. After putting away his dishes, he made to settle in front of the TV. Not long after settling in, Abigail poked her head in.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Be good.”

She too used her time under the running hot water to reflect and mentally debrief from the past few days. It hadn’t escaped her notice that this bedwetting episode followed her son’s first induced heavy sleep. She certainly wasn’t going to let him in on this theory, and she hoped he wouldn’t draw the connection himself. It wounded his carefully cultivated sense of maturity enough to begin with, without knowing it was going to relinquish him of bladder control too. She smiled to herself at that thought. In reality, apart from his determination to be perceived as such, there was nothing grown up about him at all. She couldn’t help but notice when other adult — her friends, or his friends mothers, teachers — would dote on him, or the subtle ways they’d enunciate big words more slowly for him or insist on helping him with more basic tasks compared to his peers. By the time she shut off the water, she had resolved to give Dr. Richardson a call so she would know what to expect.

She checked in on Oliver again to let him know that she’d be in her office getting some work done. She dialed the number closing the door to make sure he was well out of earshot. As the phone rang she tried to get a list of questions straight in her head.

They spoke at length, confirming all of Abigail’s suspicions and more before they said their goodbyes and concluded the call. Abigail could feel herself sagging in her office chair as if being drained of the energy it was taking to process everything she had just been told. She could barely focus on work for the next couple of hours. All she could do, she decided, was to take things one challenge and one day at a time.

She broke for lunch and went to find Oliver who seemed to be fully mentally invested and more than a little frustrated at some video game she didn’t recognize. He sat hunched over, red in the face with a glassy-eyed stare fixed to a screen where his character was attempting to extract violent, bloody vengeance on the other characters on screen. He grunted loudly and shook the controller every time the tide seemed to turn against him. Maybe less screen time and a little more parental curation of the kind of media he engaged with would do him some good, Abigail thought.

“Hey, Mad Max, how about a little lunch?”

“What?” he said looking up like had hadn’t noticed her presence up until this point.

“It’s a movie from the ancient 20th century. Don’t worry about it. Lunch?”

“I’m not hungry.”

She took the controller from his hands and pressed the pause button. He shot her a defiant glare but was met with one of her own that he knew meant even more business.

“You need to eat.”

He threw up his hands and marched into the kitchen with his shoulder arched in annoyance. On the table sat a sandwich with the crusts neatly cut off, a bowl of piping hot tomato soup, and his glass of formula. Part of the way through the meal, Oliver absentmindedly swung his forearm clear through the path of the soup and glass, tipping the bowl over and sending the glass crashing to the ground.

Luckily Abigail reacted quickly and hoisted him clear of the impending lava flow, saving him from any burns.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” he said, with a shaky sincerity to his voice that immediately discounted Abigail’s initial presumption, that this was a ploy to get out of drinking his formula. Her annoyed expression softened.

“It’s okay, what’s important is you weren’t hurt. Have you had enough to eat? We have to get going to the store so I can get back to work.”

Abigail worked quickly to clean up the mess all the while considering that this little mishap, intentional or not, had caused him to miss one of his prescribed glasses of formula.

They drove to the store and Oliver retrieved a cart, a small task he had adopted to be helpful which he always managed to make look Herculean as to Abigail as he negotiated the unwieldy craft over to her, reaching for the handlebars like a helmsman on a supertanker navigating the Panama canal. Abigail took the cart and lead Oliver on a meandering path weaving through the aisles as they accumulated groceries, taking it at an even slower clip than usual as Abigail put off the inevitable. Eventually there was nothing left to get and Abigail took a sharp breath as she turned down the baby aisle. As casually as she could, she rolled the cart to a stop and scanned the blue packages of boys’ pull-ups lining the shelves and retrieved a single package.

“Mom... no. No no no. Please don’t make me! It won’t happen again. I promise.” he pleaded, pulling on her hand in case there was a possibility she simply wasn’t hear him.

“I’m sorry hon.” she said as she knelt down to meet him at eye level, holding the blue package like a necessary prop for the explanation. “These are just in case. I can’t have you waking up in wet sheets every morning.” she said before standing to signal that the matter was concluded and placing them in the cart where, as a consequence of being the last item to purchase, it sat clearly atop the pile of shopping for all passersby to see.

Oliver followed along to the checkout nursing his wounded pride and straining to hold back tears. He noticed the cashier glance at him as Abigail unloaded the cart onto the conveyor belt, starting with the pull-ups.

“Someone having a hard day?” she asked casually as she scanned the items.

“Just having some big feelings.” Abigail allowed,

They drove home in silence and the rest of the day seemed to pass by without incident until the evening came crashing in on Oliver earlier than expected.

“Hey little man, I think we better get your jammies on now before dinner. You know how sleepy you were last night.” she reasoned as she ushered him up the stairs and tailed him into his room.

“I can dress myself mom.”

“I know you’re a big boy, but this is new to you and I just thought you could use a little help.” she explained as she started to pull his shirt over his head. Oliver noticed her inspect his underwear briefly before throwing them in the hamper and opening the bag of training pants. She pulled out a single pair adorned with a smiling motif of Mickey Mouse and shook them loose before holding them out invitingly for him to step in to. Not wanting to prolong the ordeal, he placed one foot and then the other into the garment, holding onto Abigail’s shoulders for balance as she shimmied them up his legs. Next she helped him into an old, long john style set of pyjamas she picked out for him.

He was acutely aware of the feeling of padding hugging his waist and crinkling as he walked down stairs. Passing the hall mirror, he noticed the pyjamas did nothing to conceal his secret. Dinner came and went and Abigail served Oliver his nighttime formula, this time in a plastic cup he noticed, which he drank kneeling in front of the TV. Abigail sat from the couch and took notice of the plastic waistband peaking aa couple of inches above his pyjama pants when he leaned forward, bringing back pleasant memories of time long past. Like clockwork, before long he she could see he was wavering. She stood him up and led him up the stairs to minimal protests. She tucked him into bed and kissed him goodnight before making her way to the door. She glanced back from the threshold to see his thumb had found its way into his mouth as he slept soundly before closing the door.

 

 

[Pierry Louys]

So cute !!!!! 

[Eagle0769]

Good chapter.

Sorry but I still think the font is to small well I mean for me.

I'm enjoying your story.

🙂

 

[justme9000]

Thanks. I pasted plain text this time and it's rendering the same as other posts for me now. If you go into the accessibility settings in your browser, you should be able to increase the text size.

[Eagle0769]

You have a winner here. Wish I read this before I started my last story.

Your idea from the first chapter is really good your writing is very good and easy to follow.

Waiting for the next chapter maybe a binkie (pacifier) is better than a thumb. 🙂

[justme9000]

Chapter 3 – The New Routine

Oliver gradually came to awareness to the sound of tweeting birds and the warmth of the sun on his face. It was the best sleep he could ever remember having. He basked in the stillness of the morning and the pleasant warmth of his soft, dry sheets. Dry. His sheets were dry! His eyes shot open and he leapt out of bed. He was still inspecting his sheets to confirm when Abigail appeared behind him, apparently curious what all the ruckus was about.

“I’m dry!” he exclaimed gleefully before realising how childish that would sound.

“Great job sweetie. Let’s see how your pull-up did.” Abigail suggested, hooking two fingers to the waistband of his pyjama pants and lowering them to his knees. His pull-up. Oliver deflated. In his post-sleep haze, he had completely forgotten the events of the previous day. The training pant hung heavily between his legs with Mickey Mouse looking considerably yellower and more dejected than last he had made their acquaintance.

“Aw, well looks like they just about held up, no more wet sheets for you baby.” Abigail said in a conciliatory tone. Oliver said nothing as Abigail finished undressing him and sent him to shower. Once again he stood under the streaming hot water trying to forget about everything. He realised that this would no-doubt make the pul-ups a permanent addition to his nighttime routine, the second huge backslide in his life in nearly as few days. He sighed loudly as he shut off the water. Again a juvenile outfit had been preordained for the day, and again he didn’t muster the will to object.

Breakfast came and went without incident and Oliver set about deciding what to do with his day. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to do anything but watch TV and play video games, but the kind of interests he expected to fill the void playing with toys had left hadn’t appeared in his life yet. Sports were out of the question. He could thank his diminutive frame for that. Any number of potential opponents could run rings around him, sometimes literally. This train of thought ran headfirst into one going perpendicular: Where was his game controller, anyway? He searched the room exhaustively and was about to enlist help when Abigail materialized with an expression of intent hauling a large, colorful, plastic bucket, she half-dropped, half-placed on the floor in a manner that attested its heft. It landed producing a characteristic noisy rattle that immediately divulged its contents.

“I think you’ve been overdoing it a little with the video games lately. How about you play with your Lego instead?” Lego? He hadn’t wanted to play with Lego in... well, okay, maybe it wasn’t all that long but that wasn’t the point! This was Summer vacation! It was supposed to be a glorious canvas of unimpeded liberty stretching out to an alien land called September that was so staggeringly far away it was utterly inconsequential. That was, at any rate, something along the lines of the argument he was gearing up to make before his second train of thought of the morning on his poorly run cognitive railway was derailed Abigail’s next sentence like a penny on the tracks.

“I know you know I’m right. No need to fight me on it.” she said before pulling him in for a quick hug and kissing the top of his head, adroitly ending the argument before it even started.

“I’ll be in the office. Call if you need anything.”

And with that he was left alone with his thoughts, his Lego, and no game controller. Which didn’t deter a futile 20-minute search that ended with him slumping on the couch and throwing his head against the cushions in defeat. He sat momentarily before the glint of a glossy piece of red plastic caught his interest and he picked it up to examine it. It was one of the rarer pieces with unusual geometry that had always held a special place for him.

He picked up a second piece and experimentally joined them together, and then a third. Before he knew it hours had passed.

“Having fun?” Abigail asked leaning against the door frame, using the question as much to announce her presence.

“Yeah!” Oliver exclaimed holding up a half completed spaceship aloft. “I added a second rotating cockpit for a gunner and- I mean, yeah, it’s fine, I guess.” he said suddenly composing himself.

“Okay, Mr. Grownup. I can see it’s very fine.” she grinned. “Now how about some lunch?”

“Why don’t you try going potty before we eat?” she prompted, blocking his dash to the kitchen.

“Ugh, mom! You don’t to have to remind me-” his rant was cut short when, probing for signals from his bladder, he discovered that in fact she had needed to remind him. He briskly made his way to the bathroom, consciously trying to look like it wasn’t urgent. He discovered when he got there that his underwear was already slightly damp. When had that happened? If he went upstairs to change now, it would raise suspicions. He finished his business and washed his hands.

Lunch was sitting at the table accompanied by another plastic beaker of formula. He was drinking thirstily from it when his grip slipped and the contents spilled down his front. Abigail relieved him of his t-shirt and saw with dismay he had gotten it on his shorts as well.

“Come on, let’s get you some fresh clothes.” she said as she marched him upstairs. She’d been nothing but patient and supportive in dealing with his various mishaps and yet he could feel it was wearing on her as she undressed him.

“Sweetie, the formula didn’t soak through your shorts. Did you have a little accident?” she observed turning his underwear over in her hands. He could only looked down. His deception hadn’t last 10 minutes.

“You need to tell me if this happens and get dry underwear. You’ll get a rash.” she explained as she retrieved a packet of baby wipes from the dresser drawer where she’d stashed his pull-ups. He didn’t even remember her buying them. “Let me do it!” he protested, blocking her with his hands.

“I just want to make sure it’s done properly.” she intoned gently but firmly as she placed his hands by his hips and got to work. “Be back downstairs in 2 minutes” she said, laying out fresh clothes but mercifully leaving him to dress himself. He returned to the kitchen a few minutes later to see the table cleared except for a single sippy cup set at his place with Abigail sitting across from him purposefully. Oliver felt he had brought this upon himself, so he couldn’t summon his usual level of indignation.

“Mom...” he pleaded.

“Sweetheart, you need to finish your formula for it to work. It won’t do any good in your clothes or on the floor.”

No further explanation was necessary. He resignedly slid into his chair and took the sippy cup to his lips. A few minutes later, he was released back to his Lego while Abigail returned to work.

This set the stage for the days and weeks to follow. Each day he’d spend watching TV or playing, sometimes video games, but increasingly often some wholesome activity that had evidently been chosen for him, but not by him Each evening, a sippy cup of formula reliably set him on the path to sleep, Day by day, the routine was tweaked and refined here and there. Abigail started to insist that he got ready for bed in the mid evening with the sun still well in the sky, to mitigate the risk that he would fall asleep without a pull-up on. She took to warming his nighttime sippy cup and before long its warm, creamy contents became an indispensable comfort for Oliver and, to her mind an even more effective soporific. Oliver now found himself spending most evenings cuddled up to Abigail on the couch, sippy cup or thumb reliably in mouth. Every morning, he woke up in his bed even if that wasn’t where he fell asleep, with an even heavier pull-up than the night before. It wasn’t long before that fact reached its inevitable conclusion and he started to wake with dual moon-shaped leaks on his pyjamas. This lead to a policy of Abigail changing his pull up in his sleep before it leaked, which paradoxically lead to some dry mornings. On these mornings, Abigail would prepare breakfast before he showered. It wasn’t long until he was playing in his pyjamas up until lunch and feeling like he was beginning to spend more time in pull-ups than underwear. When he was in underwear, they were inevitably damp by the end of the day, an issue Abigail had not yet decided how to broach.

One such day was interrupted by a phone call for Oliver from his friend, Jack Weaver. Oliver didn’t have many people he could count on as friends, but Jack was one of the good ones.
“A sleepover?” Oliver repeated, mulling it over. He glanced briefly to Abigail has he might do if he were seeking approval, before shutting the idea down himself. “Uh, no thanks, I don’t think my mom will let me right now.” he fibbed.Abigail didn’t push it. She saw what was happening and her heart ached for him. She wanted him to have fun with his friends, but of course, she knew he wasn’t ready to risk a sleepover just yet. Still, he couldn’t stay cooped up inside like this. She could feel a plan starting to hatch and she reached for the phone.

[Pierry Louys]

Great chapter !!! Liked the way mom is guiding him ! Very calm and love