Lil' Tim-Tim

Originally posted October 29, 2007

“Hey, Charlotte. I have a 30 minute request for Betty,” Mindy says through her yawn.

“Really?! From who?” That's my Dominatrix character's name. I can't imagine who would request her, as she typically is fair at best.

“Ugh. I hate this fucking guy!” She says in disgust.

“Oh no. Who is it?!”

“Lil Tim-Tim...”

“Oh God,” I groan. Lil Tim-Tim is an adult baby. He's five and in kindergarten, but sometimes he has accidents and I have to punish him by treating him like a baby.

“I swear, he's so annoying.”

“To you?! How?”

“He doesn't just talk to you in that voice! Everything he says is in the whiney fucking baby talk. I just want to scream at him to grow the fuck up already! What the hell?!”

“Last time he called me, I sang 'This Little Piggy' to him,” I tell her. She sounds like she's going to fall off her chair, she's laughing so hard. Then she tells the other receptionists what I said. They all laugh.

“Janice says you should sing 'Itsy Bitsy Spider' since it's Halloween.” Now it's my turn to laugh. We just leave poor Lil Tim-Tim hanging and I find I don't really care, since I'm not in the mood for his shenanigans.

Lil Tim-Tim was my first adult baby call, and I had no idea what to expect. Right off the bat, it was baby talk. No "formal" introductions, no explanation of what he wanted. The only indication of what he wanted came in the middle of a crying fit, when he said he didn't want to wear a diaper as punishment for wetting the bed. I didn't know if I was supposed to be a mean mother, or a doting one. I didn't know if there was to be sex talk or not. So, I talked to him like he was really 5, and tried to pick up his hints. I guess it worked since he called back.

Mindy finally catches her breath and says, “Ok, connecting Betty with Lil Tim-Tim for 30 minutes."

“Hi sweet baby!” I say brightly.

“Hi, Mommy.”

“How's my Little Baby Tim-Tim?!” Baby talk, of course. “Were you a good boy today?” According to my notes, last time we spoke, I gave Tim-Tim a bubble bath and sang to him while I put baby lotion on his 'widdo baby wegs.' When he was naughty, I put him in a diaper and made him sleep in a crib.

“No...” he's talking like a 5 year old, but his voice hitches like he's crying. He actually does that thing little kids do, where they hold their breath while they whine, so it sounds like they're dying. It is genuinely infuriating.

“No?! What do you mean 'no?'”

“Teacher said I not ready for kindergarten...”

I interrupt him sharply. “I thought we talked about this, Timothy! You are 5 years old now, you can't keep acting like a fucking baby!”

“I know Mommy,” he whimpers. “I sowwy, Mommy. I no like school.”

“So, you want to be a big baby forever? You want to wear diapers and sleep in your playpen and drink your dinner from a ba-ba?” I'm channeling every abusive mother you see on television. I yell and interrupt. I'll snap from Nice Mom to Mean Mom in the blink of an eye. I should watch Mommy Dearest again.

I write "Mommy Dearest" in my notebook.

“No Mommy! I not a baby!” He's wailing now.

“Then tell me: why the fuck would your teacher tell me you're not ready for kindergarten?”

“I don't know, Mommy....” He's sobbing.

“God, I'm sick of your fucking baby crying. Go take off your clothes and get ready for your bath.”

“Yes, Mommy, I sowwy!”

“Stop your fucking sniveling and get in this tub.”

I'm quiet for a bit.

“I wash me, Mommy.”

“I know, sweetie. Wash your legs now.” I say in the quintessential mommy is tired voice.

“I wash legs, Mommy!”

“You did!” Now, I'm the happy Mommy, praising her baby. “Wash your toes, too!”

“Wash toes!”

“Yay!” I clap and laugh. “Tell Mommy why you don't like school, Lil Tim-Tim.”

“I don't know.” He starts making that crying sound.

“Don't be sad, Tim-Tim. Mommy just wants to know how come you're not happy at school. Is your teacher a mean lady?”

“No, she nice lady!”

“Do you think you're not ready for kindergarten?” I'm concerned Mom, talking slowly and quietly.

No!” He starts crying again. “I not baby, I big boy!”

“So, you want to wear your big boy underpants and your Superman jammies?”

“Yea! Big boy jammies!”

“Ok, well, get out of the tub so Mommy can dry you off....Oof, wrap you in a big warm towel, come sit on Mommy's lap until you're all dry...I rock you and swish a towel in your hair...Was that a nice bath?”

“Uh huh! Nice baff, Mommy!”

“Good!” I make a big baby kissing noise. “MUAH! Now, let's go get your jammies on!”

I describe his Superman Underoos and the two piece Superman pajama set. We talk about trick or treating.

“I no wanna trick or treat, Mommy!”

“Why not? Don't you want yummy candy? Yummy in your tummy candy?!” I blow raspberries on my arm. We both laugh.

“I scared Mommy, I wanna be wiff yooooo!” He starts wailing again.

“Not trick or treat by yourself, you big silly! Mommy trick or treat, too!”

“Yay! Mommy trick or treat?”

“Yup, and you can be Superman! Who can Mommy be?”


“Yea, Super-mamma!” We laugh some more. I'm actually talking to him like I would any 5 year old and this creeps me out, greatly.

“Mommy? I have accident.”

“You what?!” I'm outraged Mom again.

“I have accident.”

“What is wrong with you?! I thought you said you were a big boy!”

“I am big boy!” He's crying again.

“Goddamn, I'm sick of your fucking crying!” (I really am, too!) “Big boys don't piss their pants! You just got out of the tub! Why didn't you tell me you had to pee?”

“I no know." He sounds miserable.

“Well, now you get a spanking.” I clap my hands together 5 times. “Five smacks so you remember you're 5 years old! Now, go get a diaper and get back in the tub.”

“No diaper, Mommy!”

“Yes, diaper, Lil Tim-Tim, since you want to be a baby, I'm going to dress you like one.”

I give him another bubble bath. A mean one. Where I tell him to scrub his peepee weewee good or Mommy will do it for him.

“Lay down on the floor here on your blankie, Tim-Tim.” I say quietly.

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Mommy will put lotion on your baby skin, so it stays nice and baby soft, right?” Back to the sweet baby talk.

“Yea, soft!”

“That's right, and put some nice powder on your butt and your weewee...Do you wanna squeeze the powder?”

I still have no idea if he's turned on by any of this, if he's masturbating. If I'm supposed to touch him inappropriately. I figure if I randomly talk about his weiner, and he wants it, he'll hint at it.

“Yay! Squeeze da powder!"

"Are you Mommy's baby?"

"Yes, I a baby."

"What does Baby want to do?

"Sing songs, Mommy!”

“Mommy's not a good singer...”

“Yea! Mommy sing pretty!”

“Ok, do you sing the Animal Fair song in school?”

“No...sing it Mommy!”

“I went to the Animal Fair...” I really am a terrible singer. Absolutely tone deaf. Poor Tim-Tim. “The birds and the bees were there! The big baboon by the light of the moon was combing his auburn hair!”

“Silly song, Mommy! More!”

“It's not over, then it goes, 'You ought to have seen the monk who jumped on the elephant's trunk. The elephant sneezed and fell on his knees and that was the end of the monk the monk the monk the monk,'” and then I made random baby noises. “Ah buh buh buh, ahbuhbuhbuh...rub da baby belly!”

We laughed.

“Wanna go watch movies, Tim-Tim?”

“Yea, watch movies, Mommy!”

“Sit on Mommy's lap in the rocking chair?”

“I hungee, Mommy.”

“Want Mommy's milk in da tum tum?”

“Yea Mommy!”

“Ok, sit on my lap in the rocking chair, Mommy will feed you.”

“My tummy, Mommy.”

“Yea! Lookit the round belly! Yummy milk in the tummy. Show Mommy on your diaper where Big Bird is.”

“Big Biwd!”

“Yay Big Bird! Where's Elmo?”


We clap and laugh. I hear the beep telling me we have 3 minutes left.

“I will rock you, Lil Tim-Tim, until you get all sweepy.”

“Sweepy, Mommy.”

“Yup. I see your little eyes are so heavy. Mommy is sleepy, too.”

“Sweepy, Mommy.”

“Yup. So, let's go to sleep, Lil Tim-Tim and I will talk to you later when we wake up, Ok?”

“Ok, bye, Mommy.”

“Bye, Sweet Lil Baby Tim-Tim.”