fear and clothing

We sat quietly in the cab of the truck for a while.

The truck was big and red and loud. He loved take it round the house in the winter to see how much snow it would go through. I would sit high up in the seat, hands perched on the dash to get the best view. My little head moving like a child in the front row at the cinema, quickly from side to side to take everything in: the snow rushing over the hood, past the doors, swirling away behind us. We cheered as the snow drifts coward away. I was on top of the world.

Not today. Today i was small. Today i sunk deep into the seat and never wanted to be seen again. With my hands were tightly at my side stared at the cab floor because i hadn't disappointed it, at least not yet.

He had brought a change of clothes with him, but he wasn't worried about the truck. He was doing his best to help the situation. He was thirty two and his only son and oldest child had just pooped his pants.

you couldn't have gone to the bathroom, could you?

He wasn't angry, he was confused. i shrugged my shoulders but my eyes didn't leave the floor for fear it would disappear. i didn't want to explain myself, it wouldn't've made sense anyway.It was easier for me to do what i did than to have the other boys make fun of me. They were always in the bathroom laughing at the toilet if something was "left behind". So instead of subjecting myself to that humiliation I did the only thing that made sense to me and I kept it to myself.

The truck roared to life and we started for home.

Well, will we try again tomorrow? he offered as we drove down the road.
I looked up at him with raised eyebrows. I'll have to i thought i'll be behind in the field work.

I can't wait until my son poops his pants at school. I only hope I've got a big red truck so I can bring him home.