Pancake Day - Chapter 3

With his brightly colored dinosaur-adorned pajama bottoms abandoned in a heap in the middle of the bathroom, Bertie was dressed only in his matching button-up top as he sat high atop the toilet - kicking his legs restlessly back and forth. He was elevated further by the childish plastic Dino Den themed potty seat that Arthur had made him use, despite his objections. He sighed, knowing that it was likely to be a permanent fixture.

“We wouldn’t want you to fall in.” Arthur had explained, “Besides, it’s either this or I’ll have to come and help you every time. What if I’m busy? I can’t drop everything for all your little potty emergencies!”

That morning, Bertie hadn’t even needed to go - but Arthur had insisted he give it a try anyway. In fact, he’d even pulled out an old little kids’ board book, Bertie had no idea where from, insisting that he shouldn’t get up until he had read the whole thing. He looked down scornfully at the front page of the sorry, beaten up old thing, cringing as he read the title Potty-saurus Rex! 

“It’s okay to just look at the pictures if the words are too big for you, but still give it a try.” Arthur had said “Can you do that for my buddy?”

Bertie had given him a sarcastic glare “I’m in Pre-AP English.”

“Sounds like you’ll be done in no time, then!” Arthur had praised, ruffling the thicket of golden curls that bunched up behind his ears - what the larger boy affectionately called his ‘dino horns.’ Bertie had tried to shift away from the unwanted interference,  but his perch atop the toilet left little room for maneuvering. “Try and go pee-pee, okay?” he had continued “Just like the big boy dinosaur in the book.”

Bertie had been planning to simply give up as soon as Arthur left the room, but the larger boy had promised him a “special treat” for breakfast if he was a good boy. Maybe it was the way Arthur had said it, maybe it was the mystery, or maybe it was simply the primal allure of something other than plain oatmeal for breakfast, but some strange instinct led him to obey.

Lately Bertie had been finding himself less and less resistant to Arthur’s infantile treatment. Lying in his bed that morning, staring past the removable toddler rails that the larger boy had insisted on reattaching ‘just to be safe’, Bertie had had a strange thought that he was starting to actually like Arthur - even if he definitely hated all the ridiculous things he made him do. Afterall, the boy was certainly nice to him. That was more than could be said for any of the other boys at school or in the neighborhood. He gave him gifts, toys, games, treats - even if they were more suitable for a boy ten years his junior; he’d rescued him from those bullies at the Dino Den; and he’d never even shown anyone else all of those photos that he’d taken.

Even two days ago when Bertie had had a total breakdown and threatened to tell his mom that Arthur had been bullying him after a particularly emotional tantrum, the larger boy had simply pulled him into an affectionate cuddle on the couch - patting him gently on the back until he stopped shaking and letting him watch whatever he wanted on the TV until he had fully calmed down. They’d ended up watching three full episodes of Bertie’s favorite dinosaur documentary series Dinosaur Planet, and by dinner time he’d been so happy that he didn’t care that Arthur had kept him firmly in his lap and sucking his thumb for the whole event. Arthur had even given him full reign of the cookie jar for dessert, adding cheekily that he shouldn’t tell his mom.

The more Bertie thought about it, the less it made sense that he’d ever thought of Arthur as a bully. Although he seemed to find Bertie’s incessant pouting and protests vaguely cute, the boy certainly didn’t seem to get any joy out of his suffering. In fact, he’d seemed genuinely furious with those kids who had reduced him to tears at the soft play area. No, the relationship was more like that between an older brother and his little sibling, or a babysitter and his charge - and although Bertie was sick to death with being treated like a three year old by a boy a full year his junior, he somehow had grown to like the boy himself, or at least learned to tolerate him. If he could just make him see somehow that he really was a teenager rather than the toddler that Arthur insisted he was, then maybe they could even be friends.

As it stood however, Arthur was more like a parent than a playmate. With his mother working though the school break, it was Arthur who woke him every morning, who made him breakfast, washed his clothes, and cleaned up after him. Bertie had tried to take control, but it was a futile task. At best, Arthur might permit him to do some token baby task to placate him - to put his own toys away in their tub or pull his own brightly-colored t-shirts over his head; but most of the time Arthur just gave an adoring tut and took control automatically - securing him in his booster seat; holding up his shorts for him to step in; giving him a reassuring pat on his bottom and sending him to watch cartoons while he took care of everything. When any protest was liable to lead to tears, tantrums and a time out sucking on his binky or his thumb, it was nearly always easier to just be a good boy and go along with it all.

Eventually, Bertie got to the end of the potty book. It concluded with the baby dinosaur protagonist finally becoming ‘King of the Potty’ and getting to be a big boy, the last page depicting the vaguely t-rex shaped cartoon dinosaur wearing a crown, a baby blue sash and a pair of tighty whities. Meanwhile, having finally managed to go himself, Bertie struggled his way down from off of the potty seat, flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and retrieved his pajama bottoms - hopping around and expending some effort in the process of getting his legs into the holes before he pulled them up around his waist.

His task complete, Bertie went back into his room to retrieve Spike before making for the stairs. After the incident at the Dino Den, he’d been wary to ever part with his fuzzy companion - but going potty had been one of two activities where Arthur had strictly banned the participation of the Stegosaurus, along with taking a bath. Bertie was just glad that he hadn’t had to experience the second activity under Arthur's watch -  at least so far. He was almost certain that the larger boy would appoint himself to supervise bathtime if he ever got the chance, but for now washing himself was one of the few things Bertie was able to reserve for the measly two hours between his mother returning from work and his new 8pm bedtime.

That reform had also been Arthur’s work, achieved with a few well-placed comments to his mother about the smaller boy “looking tired” and “nodding off” in the middle of the day. Bertie supposed that those remarks had been true enough - but it was hard to stay alert when you spent your days lounging around in pajamas sipping on warm milk and watching dreamy little-kid TV shows, each with that same gentle intoxicating rhythm which practically rocked you to sleep. He was just glad that Arthur hadn’t yet imposed an official nap time.

Arthur was sitting in the kitchen at the bottom of the stairs, sipping on what looked suspiciously like a mug of black coffee.

“Here comes the Bertie-saurus, stomping down the stairs!” he greeted enthusiastically “Did you manage to go pee-pee?”

Bertie gave a curt nod, traipsing silently towards the larger boy’s chair.

“What a big boy!” Arthur praised, ruffling his curly locks again. “Can you give me a big boy dinosaur roar?”

“Rawr…” Bertie yawned, allowing himself to be pulled into a loose cuddle.

“Sounds like someone’s still a little tired. That’s okay buddy. I’m proud of you. No more pee-pee pants from this big boy, right?”

“I don’t pee my pants.”

“That’s right bud - you’ve been doing so well! You go on the potty like a big boy, don't you?”

Bertie just frowned. Why did Arthur always do this? Of course that hadn’t been what he meant!

“Don’t you?”

Eventually he nodded, just so Arthur would drop the point. “Where’s breakfast?”

Arthur smiled knowingly “Ahh, you want your special treat huh?”

He nodded again.

“Well I was thinking that since you’ve been such a good boy, I could take you out for breakfast. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Bertie froze up. Out? Playing the baby at home was one thing, but he wasn’t sure he could manage going out again. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of the Dino Den incident. Arthur could clearly sense his anxiety.

“I know it’s scary buddy, but it’s been four days. You have to leave the house again at some point - and I promise I won’t let any big nasty mean second graders pick on you again.”

The reminder that Bertie’s tormentors had only been in the second grade made his cheeks flare up in embarrassment.

“I don’t wanna…” he objected feebly.

“It’ll be okay.” Arthur reassured confidently “You’ll be all bundled up safe in your stroller on the way there and on the way back, and I’ll be right there with you the whole time. No one’ll say anything mean, and if they do I’ll sock ‘em in the mouth!”

Bertie gave an involuntary giggle at the image, chewing on his lip as he mulled over the suggestion.

“What do you say buddy? Are you gonna be a big brave Bertiesaurus?”

“Do we have to take the stroller?”

Arthur looked genuinely surprised “I thought you loved your stroller!”

Bertie had no idea where Arthur had gotten that impression. Sure, he’d sat in it nicely enough on the long journey back from the Dino Den, but he’d been practically screaming his head off on the way there.

“No…it’s for babies.”

“No one thinks you’re a baby, bud. It's just to keep you all snug and secure. Besides, I need something to carry all your things. Spare clothes, baby wipes, sippy cups - a boy like you would need a whole suitcase!”

“You could put some stuff in your backpack…”

“Maybe - but that way I’d have to carry you and all if you started getting sleepy. This way you’ll have a nice comfortable place to conk out.”

Bertie looked skeptical.

“Plus,” Arthur continued “this way I can clip your binky to the stroller instead of your shirt. I know you hate that nasty plastic clip on your collar.

The idea of the pacifier ending up on his shirt again made Bertie shudder “I don’t wanna go outside…” he retreated, trying to put on his best puppy dog eyes.

Arthur sighed sympathetically “Alright. How about this? We’ll take the stroller - but you can hold my hand and walk next to me. You only have to sit down if you get grumpy or sleepy, okay?”

The illusion of choice was enough to secure the boy’s haltering support “Okay…”

From there it was easy enough for Arthur to get the boy all ready for the day: helping him brush his teeth, washing his face, and negotiating him into a pair of T-Rex themed briefs along with a similarly themed cartoon t-shirt and shorts set. Then it was just a matter of threading a pair of lime green socks on his feet and putting on his light up trainers, which still hadn’t seen any action since the fateful day at the Dino Den.

“You’re looking pretty ferocious, buddy!” Arthur praised as he took up the smaller boy’s left hand - his right being reserved for clutching onto Spike, of course “I bet any nasty kids will think twice before taking on a T-Rex!

“I’m not a T-Rex…” Bertie objected tiredly as they started to make their way down the street, Arthur pushing the empty stroller effortlessly forward with his other hand.

“Oh yeah, of course. You’re a Bertie-saurus, right? The most ferocious dinosaur of them all! Give me a roar, Bertie-saurus!”

“Roar!” Bertie shouted, perhaps a little too loudly - the feeling of the sunlight on his face making him feel strangely energized and playful.

An old woman walking the other way looked at him adoringly, clearly amused by the sight of the bright-eyed little boy practically skipping down the street with his stuffie in hand. Bertie immediately feltl extremely self-conscious. He looked deliberately away from her, a hot red tinge of embarrassment burning his chubby cheeks. Had his four days in isolation really brought out so many childish traits? There he was, dressed like a toddler and practically announcing out his participation in a silly pretend game he was playing with his thirteen year old babysitter. He supposed he was lucky that his hands were occupied with clinging onto Spike and holding Arthur’s hand - if he wasn’t careful he might find himself absentmindedly sucking his thumb!

As they passed by the houses, Bertie also became horribly aware of how recognizable he must have been. When they’d gone this way four days previously, Bertie had been fairly well hidden inside his stroller - out of the view of any prying neighbors. But now he was well and truly out in the open. It wasn’t as if he was even gaining much in the way of perceived maturity by walking either; the empty stroller that Arthur was rolling along by his side was clearly intended for him, even if it wasn’t in immediate use - along with the pacifier swinging merrily from its canopy. He tried to speed up as they walked by Charlie Tanner’s house, hoping against hope that his classmate wouldn’t see him.

“Someone’s excited!” Arthur commented at the sight of the smaller boy straining against his grip, but he nevertheless maintained a consistent pace.

Bertie let out a little moan as they passed the corner. Had that been Charlie in the window? Had he been looking at them? Had he recognized him? There was no way of knowing, but Bertie certainly didn’t want to risk another incident like that.

“Can I sit down now?” he asked suddenly.

“Tired out already?” Arthur queeried.

Bertie just gave a curt nod, not wanting to explain.

“Alright then.” he agreed, helping the boy into the seat before carefully securing the harness. “Maybe you’ll be back to your old spritely self when we’ve got some brekkie in you, huh?”

The rest of the trip passed uneventfully until they reached a nearby diner. Bertie had been to the place a few times before with his mother, and as the familiar hostess approached he suddenly had a sickening thought that she might recognize him. It soon became clear however that his fears were unfounded, as she smiled down at him with the same sickly sweet smile that she might reserve for any other toddler.

As Arthur parked the stroller by the booth and started to unbuckle him, the hostess spoke up.

“Does he need a high chair?” she asked. A shiver went down Bertie’s spine,

“Oh - I think he might be a bit too big for that.” Arthur countered, giving some immediate reassurance. It seemed the debate was not quite yet over, however.

“We’ve got some boosters for kids three and up, but there’s no buckles or anything to keep him in place if he's a wriggler.”

“What do you think, Bertie?” Arthur smiled, “Can you manage a booster seat?”

Bertie nodded urgently, causing both Arthur and the hostess to share a knowing laugh.

“Alright - I’ll be right back.”

In the end, the booster wasn’t really that embarrassing at all - consisting only of a small piece of ergonomically curved plastic. Bertie allowed Arthur to sit him down on it without making a fuss, looking gratefully across the room to where a baby of around 18 months was sat in the alternative - an impossible to ignore hulking tall bulky high chair. On the off chance that they ran into someone he knew, the booster seat might plausibly be explained simply with reference to his height rather than his ongoing toddlerfication. The only reminder of that was the stroller parked directly beside him - that and his outfit.

Despite his fears, the meal passed peacefully. Arthur knew exactly what the smaller boy liked, and ordered a child’s sized portion of pancakes for him along with a small plastic cup of chocolate milk. Arthur himself got a full portion of pancakes and a simple glass of water. Even the conversation was relatively mature, Arthur allowing the smaller boy to regale him with dinosaur facts while he listened with an adoring smile. The only slight humiliation came when Bertie got a little too enthusiastic talking about pterodactyls and smeared some syrup across his face - but Arthur quickly took care of it with some tactically deployed baby wipes.

Bertie was still raving on about some geological period or another when his tummy rumbled threateningly. He stopped mid-thought, realizing that he needed quite badly to take a different kind of trip to the bathroom. Damn. That had been the other thing he’d been trying to get done in his precious Arthur-less evenings, but with all the argument he’d had with his mother about the return of his bed rails (surprise surprise she thought they were safer, just like Arthur) he hadn’t remembered to take care of it.

“You alright, buddy?” Arthur asked, studying his face.

“Yep.” Bertie squeaked. Maybe he could just hold it? “Just…lost my train of thought.”

“Come on bud, I know that face. Do you have to go pee-pee?”

“No.”

“Poo-poo?”

Bertie gulped, unable to hide the truth written across his expression.

“Come on. Let’s go sort you out.”

“I can hold it.” Bertie insisted as Arthur walked around the table, lifting him effortlessly up into his arms and leaving Spike abandoned on the bench.

“Don’t be silly. You’re doing so well. Let’s not risk a nasty accident.”

“But-”

Arthur put a silencing finger over the smaller boy’s lips, carrying him through the bathroom doors. Blessedly, they appeared to be otherwise unoccupied as Arthur ferried him towards the stools, depositing him down on the ground before he got to work lifting up the toilet seat.

“I can do it myself…” Bertie insisted.

“I know you can, buddy - but you don’t have your potty seat here. I just need to make sure you stay safe.”

Before he could protest any further, Arthur pulled down both his shorts and undies in one solid motion.

“Stop!” Bertie whined, and to his surprise he complied.

“Buddy?”

Bertie shifted awkwardly, not really knowing what to do about his sudden exposure “I wanna do it myself.” he repeated

Arthur looked sympathetic, leaning down to Bertie’s level “Alright, - but hold my hands okay? Just to be safe.”

The smaller boy nodded, letting Arthur grab hold of both of his hands and lower him down backwards. He looked away, trying not to think about the other boys’ presence as he did what he had to.

“What a good boy!” Arthur praised, helping him to his feet again. “Do you need any more help?” he asked, gesturing to the toilet roll.

Bertie awkwardly shook his head. “Can you actually…wait outside?” he mumbled shyly.

Arthur chuckled, getting to his feet “Sure thing, bud.” He left the cubicle, but Bertie noticed that he didn’t close the door all the way. Bertie didn’t bother to correct it, instead quickly getting cleaned up, pulling up his undies and shorts, and flushing the toilet. As he emerged, Arthur insisted on helping him wash his hands, showering him with praises as he did so.

“Good job buddy - you’re a real potty prince. Just like that dinosaur in the book, huh?

“It was a king…” Bertie corrected, realizing too late the implication that he’d actually read the ridiculous potty book - and more, had paid attention to the story.

“Ohhh, someone’s a good little reader! But I think a prince is better for my little Bertie-saurus.”

“Can we go home now?” Bertie asked impatiently as they headed back out into the diner. To his relief, Spike was still sitting in his spot next to the booster seat.

Arthur smiled “Sure, buddy. Let me just pay. You can tell me all about that book of yours on the way home, alright?”

Bertie nodded curtly but rolled his eyes, grabbing Spike up in arms and shuffling awkwardly over to sit expectantly back down in his stroller - willing that Arthur might swiftly take him home where everything was cosy and safe and secure.