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guest post #6: Kevin Parrott

Kevin Parrott is currently on the disbaled list, go wish him well, would ya? He's an extraordinary writer who will be famous for that fact some day.

PAMPASTOCK 1971

I'm told that when I was a little chilluns, my folks couldn't keep me in diapers. I mean that quite literally - my Mother says that I would wear them for about fifteen seconds, then strip them off and carry them around while I frolicked buckass naked. I guess I'd discovered the proper method of removal, because she could turn her back on me for a second, glance back, and I'd be tottering around with the white bundle under my arm. She'd have to run me down, holding me still while she tried to wrangle them back on to my squirming ass. I must have hated those things.

In 1971 the 'Pampers' brand of disposable diaper was celebrating their Tenth Anniversary. From 1947 until 1961, disposable diapers were a wad of tissue paper sandwiched between two pieces of plastic film. The new, 'Mod' disposables had a cellulose core, with a rayon inner liner. They could take a lot more crap, in other words. These became the norm, and were a godsend for parents everywhere. Unless you were my Mom.

I think that would have made a terrific advertisement - "And so easy to remove!" with a picture of me naked and grinning as I held them out for display. "Just look at that load, Pop!" the word balloon over my head would say.

One fall day that year I was outside with the folks, playing in the yard as they watched. It would be silly of me to say I remember any of this; I'm just relaying the tale as it was told to me, with some embellishment of course. It's a safe bet that whatever activity I was occupying my time with involved mud and bugs. The CP&L Meter Reader pulled into the yard, stepping over to the post to take the reading after exchanging pleasantries with my parents (these were the days when you might actually know the name of your friendly meter reader). Being naturally curious, I staggered over (babies stagger) and stood behind him, tugging at the waist of my diapers as I watched him write. When he was finished, he stooped down and patted me on the head

"Whatcha got there, boy?"

"Caspah", I said, holding out my stuffed Casper The Friendly Ghost doll. Casper was HUGE back in the day. I pulled uncomfortably at my drawers.

"Whatcha wearin got you so itchy?"

"Pampas," I replied, making a disgusted face.

My Mom says she looked up from what she was doing just in time to see me stripping off the diapers in one fluid, lightning motion, and then placing them into his still-outstretched hand. Inside first. Even from where she was sitting on the porch she could see I'd had a large breakfast. I then ran around the corner of the house, laughing and scratching my besmeared butt with Casper's head.

He didn't really talk to them much after that.

And, even though she washed it several times before she finally let me have it back, my Casper had a full head of brown/green hair throughout the rest of his lifespan.

Comments

So, uhh, Caspa had shit-for-brains? :)

Yes, you have officially reached loopyness. My mom tells me I used to go outside, climb up on the crossbar of my swingset (so everyone could see me over the fence) sans pants, and sing as loud as I could "I went pee pee! I went pee pee in the potteeeeeeeee!"

Now that I think about it, I remember that I would run through the house trying to imitate Tarzan - wearing my dad's underpants - they were kinda oversized.

Oh, and when I was smaller, I would knock my crib over so I could get out, crawl to the table, then proceed to eat the stick of butter that was there. Apparently, I did that often enough for it to be somthing my parents had to work to prevent. Yech!

Yeah, Kevin's always on some list or another, and now we know how he got his start.