Bradley, or Brad as he likes to be known, drifted off to sleep. The next day Jenny and I sat him down and talked to him about what he would call us. We decided that as he had called my brother and his mother mummy and daddy, that he would call Jenny and me Mum and Dad. This would avoid problems later on when we had childern of our own.
I spent the day with Brad and we practised calling names. He forgot once and called me uncle but, being a bright little boy, he corrected himself quickly, saying ''sorry dad''. It was strange having a nearly six year old in the house but I enjoyed it and I think Jenny was enjoying it too.
That evening I bathed Brad again, enjoying the intimacy of the experience and the boy was clearly enjoying the attention. As he made the trip from bathroom across the hallway to his bedroom I was once again drawn to his cute little behind.
He put on his shorts and I told him he could come downstairs and play quietly until bedtime. At the due hour of 7.30 I announced that it was bedtime and asked Brad to put his toys away neatly. I could tell that he was about to start to argue for a few more minutes but I repeated a little more firmly that it was his bedtime. He complied with my instructions.
Next day we went shopping, just Brad and me. I wanted to buy him some new clothes and ,suspecting that it would be boring for him trying on the shorts etc which I wanted for him, I promised him that we would visit the toy department IF HE WAS A GOOD BOY.
As I thought Brad did not enjoy trying on clothes but I reminded him of our deal and so he slipped in and out of several pairs of shorts and shirts, some baggy for play and others close fitting for more formal times. I got him some swimmimg trunks and was amazed at the small sizes made for children of his age. I couldn't resist a playful slap on his little bottom when he presented himself in the small blue trunks which barely covered his cheeks. He mimicked an 'ouch, that hurt dad' even though I had hardly touched him.
After the toy departmnent where he could not decide what he wanted for 20 long minutes ( I decided not to complain at the time he was taking) we headed for the kitchen tool department. I knew what I was looking for but allowed Bradley to be away from me, but warned him to stay close, while I searched for what I wnated. I found a spatula made of flexible plastic, decribed as a fich slice, black with holes in to drain the cooking water from the fish, but that was not what I intended to use the spatula for of course.
That evening Jenny was out so I took the opportunity of beginning Brdaleys training. He was lying on the carpet looking at the TV after his bath. As he kicked his heels onto his bottom I decided the time was right and called him to sit on my lap. He did so and continued to focus on his TV show. I eased the boy down across my lap. He looked back at me but said nothing. I turned his body so that he could still see the TV, lying along the sofa. I reached down and slowly pulled down the back of his shorts. He reached back and pulled them up, I repeated the process and gave his small round bottom a firm smack to let him know not to pull up his shorts again. He did not make a sound and did not pull his shorts back up but continued to watch the TV. Good, I thought to myself. Stage one accomplished. We sat together, Bradley bare bottomed over my lap, I patted and put my hand on his bottom., feeling it and gently rubbibg back and forth, as the boy became used to me having my hand on his bottom.