My mother and father arrived home and placed this tiny baby on the edge of the bed and warned me to stay away from him. But I couldn’t help it. I had been the only kid in the house for five years and I finally had someone else. I swooped in within seconds of being told not to and laid myself on him, hugging him and inadvertently rubbing all my sores all over his exposed baby skin. My mom screamed, but it was too late. Within days, this cute new baby was covered head to toe in an ugly rash.
As time went on, his bumps healed. He could thank me later for getting chicken pox out of the way. I was still happy to have a playmate, even though he didn’t do much, but every now and then I was jealous of all the attention he was getting. I started sleeping under his crib, playing with his toys and one day, while my parents were out, I tried on one of his diapers. I had been potty trained for awhile, so I forgot what it was like to just go #1 or #2 right in my pants. I had to know. Why not? Soon enough I had a dirty diaper to dispose of and fast, since my parents had just walked in the door! I stuffed it under my parents' bed and put the whole thing behind me. Days later, like a murdered corpse buried in your backyard, it really started to stink. My parents occasionally mentioned the terrible smell and kept checking my brother’s diaper. I knew exactly what it was and I didn’t dare bring attention to it by attempting to get rid of it. The smell got worse and worse and my mom looked harder until finally, she found the packed diaper under the bed. It was obvious by the size of the deposit that it wasn’t from a newborn.
She stood there, diaper in hand, staring daggers into me, while I looked away hoping she wouldn’t suspect.
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