This story was inspired by events this weekend.
I am a 23 year old advertising executive and I live in Edinburgh with my wife Jenny. We went to uni here and decided to stay. We have only been married one year and although we discussed having a family we had no firm plans. We are both busy building careers.
Then the letter arrived. Later Bradley, or Brad as he likes to be know arrived. He is my nephew and he is five. He will tell you that he is almost six, his birthday and mine are on the same date. Some coincidence. My brother and his wife had died in an car wreck whilst on their holidays in Greece. Somehow Bradley survived and my parents had to deal with all the paperwork associated with the accident and Bradley's coming to live with us. Jenny had been supportive but I was not sure how she really felt about us adpoting Brad. Actually there was no real alternative. My parents are old and live in southern England and there are no other relatives. My parents said they would help out financially as the bulk of my brothers and sister in laws estate was left in trust for Brad.
So Bradley came to stay with us. I had an understanding boss. There is something about the guy, if you know what I mean. I have been hassling him for months about giving me the firms new contract but he says I am too inexperienced. On day I will find a way of getting him to give me that contract. He is always inviting Jenny and me to dinneer with his family but I think he prefers my company to that of his wife and Jenny. He is too friendly.
I had several weeks off to get Bradley settled in. Schools had to be fixed, clothes bought and he had to learn to fit in with our routine. We employed a live out nanny with the money my parents gave us to help out.
I had about two weeks to get myself and Jenny used to the idea of having a nearly 6 year old coming to live with us. I thought about my brother and how he might want Brad brought up. I had seen the family three times a year max. so it was tough handling the responsibility. I thought about my own growing up, the good times and the bad times, and I determined that I would try and be a real father to Bradley.
Bradley was cute, all new dads think their sons are cute. Brad has long blond hair and blue eyes. His hair is too long really but it makes him the centre of attention in a gathering. He is slim and about average height. I remembered that he is mischievous and on one occassion heard my brother threaten him with a smacked bottom if he did not calm down. Yes, now I think of it there is discipline to think about.
The first week at our home was eventful. I felt like I neede a vacation at the end of it.
The first night I decided to bath Bradley myself. It was going to be a ritual for both of us, he seemed accepting and if he was suffering any trauma, he was not showing it. I undressed him in his new bedroom, just across from the bathroom. I looked at his naked body and hugged him. he hugged me. We went for his bath, an intimate experience and difficult for me at first. I thought about how all real dads would have had nearly six years to prepare for bathing their six year old sons. I was determined to proceed and washed him with my soapy hands, even in his private areas where my attention was met with wriggles and giggles. I dont know know which of us was more embarrased but Bradley was a good boy and compliant as the washiung continued. Rinsing was followed by a gentle towelling.
I told Brad that I would clean the bath and asked him to go to his room and put on the cotton shorts I had bought for him to sleep in. As he walked slowly out of the bathroom my eyes fell on his little bottom, the size of two small grapefruit halves. I would have to buy an implement for dealing with that, I thought to myself, something that would give an effective sting and reddness, when required, without causing any damage.
After kissing Jenny goodnight I led Bradley up to his room and tucked him up with a kiss. He insisted I stayed with him until he was asleep. As I sate watching my new little son I contempleted.
A wooden spoon would be too hard for such a young boy, a slipper might do the job, but Bradley's bottom was too small to get an accurate stroke. A stick was too much and a strap too fierce. I considered a plastic spatula or a small brush. It must be something which I can target on his young cheeks, without touching the tops of his legs. I sat there day-dreaming until Bradley was asleep.