I had a stay-at-home mom who was more indulgent than most. She tried to cultivate my childhood obsessions, and my fascination with diapers must have been evident ... she'd found diapers among my things from the time I was four years old, and then the neighbor girl told her that I enjoyed changing their dolls' diapers and being the baby when we played house. Those were the years when the first Pampers commercials were running in our part of the United States, and I sat in rapt attention and watched them. I'm sure she noticed. When another neighbor had a baby, my mom watched as I knelt next to the playpen and carefully studied the Pampers box that was sitting next to the newborn.
One Fall evening in 1967, after I'd spent the day in bed with some sort of stomach bug, mom offered to put a diaper on me. I remember telling her that might be preferable to dealing with a messy bed. I was eight years old and had a pre-kindergarten sibling, so disused diapers and plastic pants were stored in the hall closet. There were always diaper pins in the bathroom cabinets. I heard mom gathering up the various supplies, and then she sat down on my bed and tugged down my pajama bottoms. I remember lying there, naked from the waist down, while my mother experimented with various folds, trying to find one that would fit. Finally, she pinned the diaper on, pulled up the plastic pants and left me alone to sleep. I wasn't able to wet, of course - turns out, it's hard to regress after being toilet-trained, and I had no more diarrhea.
Mom woke me up the next morning, pulling down the covers and putting her hand across the front of the plastic pants. I vividly remember her saying "Let's see what you did" as she pulled down the plastic pants and unpinned the dry diaper. She lifted my legs and said, "You didn't do anything!" She gathered up the diaper and plastic pants, helped me pull my pajama bottoms back on, and told me she'd be in with breakfast in a few minutes.
This entire incident was never mentioned again, until about 15 years later when my fiancée was staying with us. I'd hurt my back and was taking muscle relaxants, and I wet the bed a little. I don't remember being particularly embarrassed; I was putting the sheets in the washer when I heard my fiancée say that she might have to put a diaper on me after we were married. Mom replied that she'd done that when I was in grade school, and that I "didn't do a thing."
I've often wondered if mom would have kept me in diapers had I been wet or dirty that morning, and whether that would have had any impact on my infantilism as I grew older. I'm not sure. I do know that I couldn't wait until I was out on my own so I could spend another night diapered.