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Please Sir                                                                         By Les Lea

There was always a gentle, sweet aroma whenever Roy Glossop was nearby. It stood in stark contrast to the rest of the boys in his class, many of whom would douse themselves in harsh, overpowering deodorants in an attempt to appear more mature than their years. I often found myself wishing that boys of their age would simply dedicate more time to basic hygiene—a straightforward wash would go much further. The combination of adolescent hormones and sweat rarely results in a pleasant scent, and, for most lads of that age, their efforts to mask it only seem to make matters worse. Roy, however, was refreshingly different in this regard.

I’m a teacher at Cannonthorpe Academy and Roy is just one of my Year 9 pupils.

I’m singling out Roy because of what happened. I’m his House Master and as such I’m available to any of boys in my House should they have a query or problem they wish to discuss. Roy, who is such a sweet, unassuming boy asked if we could speak in private so, at the mid-morning break, when the classroom had cleared, he stayed behind for a one-to-one. 

*

This was his first term at Cannonthorpe because he transferred from another school after his parents died in a car accident and he’d come to live with an aunt in our town. I didn’t know what he was like before such trauma befell him but he was very quiet and always appeared well looked after. His clothes smart and pristine every day but there was no teenage arrogance to him. He was quite a good-looking boy with short, well-manicured hair, soft voice, which went with his soft features (which in all honesty made him look more like a Year 5 boy than Year 9). For a teenager, he was polite, well-spoken and had none of the bullish nature most other boys his age possessed trying their best to be as mature as possible. Although not the smallest boy in class, he was below average for his age. I hoped he wasn’t being bullied but kids can be awful to newcomers though I hadn’t noticed him looking worried around any of his classmates. I’m not sure if he’d quite settled in yet so wondered if that was what he wanted to chat about.

I sat down in the quiet of the empty classroom and indicated he should sit but he stood by my desk, almost at attention as he tried to find the correct way to tell me what was on his mind. That rather sweet fragrance invading my space but not in the least unpleasantly.

“Please Sir,” he started, “Erm, umm, I’m not sure how to start...” he looked a little anxious but determined.

“Well take your time,” I paused but thought I’d try and help. “Is it something to do with school? Are you being picked on...”

“No, no Sir, nothing like that. I like it here... it’s just, erm I’m not, er, well, look... it’s about my aunty.” He blurted out.

I’ve been doing this job for over six years and although I don’t know everything, I hope that I have a reasonable rapport with the boys and can adjust my response accordingly. I nodded, quite relieved it wasn’t really about a problem in school but now aware this was something of a personal matter, recognised I had to listen rather than lead the conversation.   

I nodded for him to continue.

Now he had my attention it took him a few beats to get his thoughts in order and I saw anxiety spread across his face as if unsure whether he should continue.

“Sir,” as I say the boy is very polite and I wanted to give him the chance to get whatever it was off his chest. “Erm, my Aunty May, who I now live with, errrmmm, uuuummm, has me wear, ermm, nappies and speaks to me as if I was a toddler.”

Although a slight sweat had broken out across his forehead he suddenly relaxed now he’d got that part of his problem out in the open. I tried not to react immediately because, in all honesty, I wasn’t sure what I needed to say.

He nervously ran his hands over his grey school trousers and for the first time I noticed the slight rounded bulge at the front. It also put the sweet scent surrounding him in perspective – talcum powder.

I nodded once again for him to continue if he wanted.

He looked at me as if he was desperate for me to say something to acknowledge what he’d just said but I just tilted my head as if I needed more information. He seemed reluctant to add anything further so I had to take the lead.

“Do you need to wear, erm, protection?” Although he’d used the word nappy I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to refer to his padding with that term.

His blemish free face began to colour. “Since mum and dad’s accident I’ve wet the bed most nights.” He spoke in barely a whisper and I could see there were other things attached to this understandable trauma. “I can’t help it, honestly.” It was as if he was trying to justify he had a problem but added positively, “Aunty has been very good... taking me in and everything but I’m nearly fifteen and not a baby.”

“Does she treat you as a baby?” I asked but desperately wanted to pull the poor lad in for a reassuring hug, which I thought would do him good but we’re told not to go down that route.

“Well, I don’t know but she says things that I wouldn’t expect to be said at my age.”

“Like what?”

“Well, like she refers to meals, you know, breakfast is ‘breakie-wekie’ and dinner ‘din-dins’. Bedtime is ‘beddy-boos’...” which drew a smile from me but I could tell he was struggling with all this stuff, “and my PJs are my cute ‘jimmy-jams’”

I was trying not to smile. This sweet boy, who I could quite easily see dressed in thick nappies and sweet kiddie pyjamas, looked like he actually belonged in such stuff.  Still he was still speaking.

“...and she always calls me Sweetie-pie and makes me a hot malted drink at bedtime, which is actually lovely but... should she still be doing that?”

He let out a huge deep breathe as though it had all been cooped up inside for some time and was now relieved it was out there.

He gave a little shiver, which released another wave of fragrance and I couldn’t help feeling that his aunty was trying to make him feel safe rather than treating him as a baby.

The thing is, I could more or less see why she treated him that way. He was very, very cute. I know I shouldn’t say that but I could almost see myself in his aunt’s position and desperately try and protect him from any further suffering. Oddly, I could also see why Roy was a little worried but I suppose, if the boy was wetting nightly...

“Does she say anything about your wetting?”

“Umm, no, she has never said anything bad to me about it, just that it was something we needed to deal with. From the very beginning, when I first arrived and I was still nervous, she just didn’t let it worry her. In fact, she was very supportive telling me that we’d sort it out together and not to feel bad. I mean, I wear a thick fabric nappy at night and a disposable to come to school in.” I nodded but was quite surprised at how he’d suddenly opened up revealing things I thought no kid would ever speak about. “Because I arrived home in a very wet disposable a few times and it leaked” He nervously ran his hand over the seat of his trousers. “Urmmm... she has insisted that I wear rubber pants as extra protection. She said that the rubber would save any embarrassing stains appearing on my trousers... so I thought she was thinking of what was right for me.”

Now that he’d started opening up to me, I found myself wondering if he had confided in anyone else. I wasn’t really sure who his friends at school were, since most of the times I’d seen him, he was either alone or quietly reading.

I was captivated by the boy’s openness, however, my eyes couldn’t help but look at the sweet-natured boy standing in front of me and think about the padding and wonder if he was wet. In just a few brief moments I pondered just what his disposable looked like – was it plain, pastel shades or with childish logos printed all over it. I swiftly realised I’d drifted off into another no go area and speedily got my thoughts back into what was being said by this rather brave boy.

“Are you wet now?” As soon as the words were out I thought this was the wrong question. Though he didn’t seem to mind because he just shrugged and admitted to being a little bit damp.

“Do you have a spare to change into?”  As I was on that subject thought I’d better keep going and make sure the boy was comfortable.

“Yes, aunty now packs a couple of spares with my lunch box...”

“Do you want to go and change now. Do you need any help... I could ask the nurse if you...

“No, no, no that’s not necessary. I can do it myself and will do if I feel the need.”

“Okay, if you’re sure but, tell me,” I was a bit curious, “if it’s been going on for some time now... does your aunty make you feel guilty about any of this?”

“No, she’s lovely and loving. I’m lucky that she’s taken me in but, well, is it normal?”

That was the question – was it normal? It didn’t seem to be doing him any harm but it was on his mind enough to bring it up with me. Incidentally, no mention of him needing to wear protection had been brought up by either the Principal or the school nurse. I mean, as his House Master I’d expect to be informed of any such information but there again, perhaps they simply hadn’t been told either. It was something that should have been revealed but...

All this was running around in my head whilst I tried to be considerate to just what the boy was telling me. I took a breath.

“Are you OK? Do you need anything?” He looked relieved that he was able to speak about these things.

“No Sir I’m fine and thank you for listening... but... do you think it’s OK?”

I paused in my reply because though the question was basically ‘Is it OK?’ was that what he was really asking? He didn’t seem to be suffering, and all mentions of his aunt were very positive, so why bring it up?

He was looking at me expecting some kind of answer.

“Well, tell me, has your aunty got children of her own?”

“Yes she has a family but her two sons are grown up and no longer live with her,” he smiled. “That was why she was able to take me in at short notice.”

“Is there an uncle in the picture?”

“No Sir, he died many years ago.” He smiled again at a memory. “She says that my coming to live with her was just the thing she needed to stay young as she had plenty of time and love to offer”.

His tone when speaking about his aunt was always affirming, so was it just the terminology that preyed on his mind.

“Tell me something Roy,” I gently suggested, “does what your aunty is saying and doing upset you... that much?”

“Well, I know I need to wear a nappy at night and she was correct about me needing an extra layer of protection during the day...”

“Yes but are you finding her insistence a problem?”

“No Sir... it’s what I need.”

“So you just want to know if it’s normal for a loving aunt to want to take care of her nephew who has had quite a traumatic time and surround him with love, affection and sensible protection?” I was a little more direct than I perhaps should have been.

“Well Sir, when you put it like that, umm, I do sound a bit ungrateful don’t I?” I saw him look down for the first time avoiding my eyes.

“Perhaps not ungrateful but simply not used to someone with such a different way of expressing her natural motherly instincts.” I was hoping my summation was helping a little but wasn’t sure. “Perhaps she simply sees you as a young lad who needs as much care and attention as she can offer and those childish phrases are there to help you feel loved and secure.” Again I wasn’t sure if I was making sense to the boy but it was pouring out whether I was right or not. However, unbidden, the image of him as a toddler entered my head, which was brought to the fore even more by what was happening.

There was a slight change in Roy’s behaviour as he started to nervously rub the front of his trousers and I could tell the padding had expanded and given a much more rounded shape to his crotch.

“Sorry Sir,” he looked flushed and more than a little embarrassed, “but I have, erm...” I knew what had occurred but he still went on. “Thank you for listening to my problems but I just feel like I’ve now let aunty down and that all she was doing was trying her best to...” Then the tears started and it was then that, despite all the training and manuals and school laws that said “NO”, I reached out and pulled him in for a hug.

“Don’t worry any more. She’s doing her best and you don’t seem any the worse for it. In fact, I’d go as far as to say it is probably just what you need.”

I heard him mumble against my chest “Like the nappies”.

I had to smile at him trying his best to make light of such an emotional moment.

He hugged me tighter and I found myself holding the boy’s bottom and feeling the thick padding under his trousers. It felt wonderful as I tried patting it to reassure him all was well. There was a slight rubbery texture to that action and couldn’t help thinking his aunt was a truly understanding woman.

I had no idea about his Aunt May; I’d never met the lady. However, there would be opportunities at school events and I was looking forward to such an encounter.

We held each other for longer than expected as he clung on, he did seem grateful for such masculine affection.

The break was coming to an end and pretty soon the bell would go for the start of the next period. I tried to let him go but he was in no hurry move.

“Thank you Sir,” he eventually added as he pulled away.

I offered him a tissue from a box in my desk drawer, which he accepted and gave a fierce blow of the nose.

“Are you going to be alright now?”

“Yes I think so Sir...”

“Do you need to go and change?” I enquired.

“Yes but it will keep...” again he rubbed the rounded fabric that I could tell had expanded under his grey trousers, “these pants will make sure there’s no leak until lunch break.”

“OK, if you’re sure.”

“No Sir, thanks, I needed to speak and you’ve helped me put things in perspective. I’m reacting against someone who loves me and that’s a silly thing to do isn’t it Sir?”

I nodded and his features brightened.

A smile returned to his face as he said very quietly but I assumed was meant as a parting joke “S’pose I’ll have to get used to wearing my jimmy-jams.”

The bell went and he thanked me once again before turning and waddling a little out of the classroom to his next lesson.

*

As the group for my next lesson began to troop in again I wondered if that was what all that was about. Was he worried or just seeking permission to wear a nappy. Had I in fact just given him that permission with my not so subtle pat on his padded bottom. Would I regret that action at some later date. I hoped not and that Roy was being as honest as I was. Did he simply want me to know what was going on and was he actually happy about it?

When we hugged had he noticed something about me? Had he sought me out knowing, or maybe just hoping, that there was an older person who would understand that wearing a nappy wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I hiked up my trousers and patted down my own comfortable TENA Slip Active Fit Ultima.

“Now then class....” I paused for effect and to make sure the rowdier element had chance to settle down, “let’s open our books at Chapter 3 and who can tell me what the author meant by that opening sentence.” I looked around the bright young faces... none seemed as bright or as sweet as the young lad I’d just encountered.

He’d made an impression on me so for the rest of the lesson I was wondering what style of disposable did he wear and was trying to remember if when we hugged, did he run his hands over the seat of my trousers and if he did????

The End

 

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