When Wint was just a little fella, he had more friends than you can count using all the fingers and toes on both hands and feet. There were of course his four siblings, who were mostly friendly. Then there were the nine Maher kids who lived on one side, and the thirteen Markee kids living on the other. Having run out of fingers and toes to count with, that’s twenty seven kids, I think. As it were, when you have that many kids in so small an area, the little kids mostly only watch as the older kids play. This, if you were not previously aware, is how little kids learn stuff. One thing I learned watching the older kids was “playing doctor”. By all evidence, it seemed very grown up to Wint, and not like playing at all! Wint however, seemed always to be a patient in this game.

The girl closest in age to Wint was Drew Markee. She was beautiful, to Wint at least, and very accomplished. One way in which she was accomplished was in shoe tying. Wint leveraged Drew’s shoe tying talent to his own good by having Drew retie his shoes at the corner where they parted ways on their paths to kindergarten. You see, they had to part ways because Drew went to the Catholic school and Wint went to public school, his being a heathen Protestant and all. Wint would put his foot up on a brick planter box at the corner house where they parted ways, for Drew to re-tie his shoes. Wint’s request for this service was spurred by the fact he was yet unable to tie his own shoes and he felt self-conscious when they came loose during the school day. This self-consciousness was no doubt a result of embarrassment at tripping over his own shoe laces, on more than one occasion! Wint would never forget, throughout his life, the graciousness that the fair Drew showed him in this service. Without self-awareness of it, she was his girl, and his best friend. So it was, when thoughts turned to playing doctor, Drew leapt to mind immediately for Wint!

Locating a popsicle stick in the vicinity of the three aforementioned househos would never have been a drawn out ordeal, no matter the amount of “picking up” a father might do. Picking up being a “dad deal” by natural law, during those times. Thereby, in short order Wint was provisioned to treat his patient, the fair Drew, with a shot.

Wint’s heart was all a patter as he sought out the fair Drew, because as anyone would know, you get shots in the butt! Wint knew not why he was excited, but indeed excited was he! Again, this was very adult stuff.

You might be wondering how old Wint, and Drew might be. You might also wonder, with so many kids around, where would “Dr. Wint” treat his patient. Both answers lie in this one piece of information; there were very few other kids around. This places their age at pre-school, and the time of year when the older kids were in school. So, we’ll say it is late spring, or early fall. This is known because when Wint found the fair Drew, she was wearing a dress, which girls only wore in mild weather. Oh my, something in the ease of access proffered by a dress caused Wint’s pulse to quicken to near hysterical excitement!

Grabbing the fair Drew’s hand, whilst brandishing the popsicle syringe, Wint led her to her parent’s side yard. Being a dead end area where no one ever played, with bushes along the fence, the “treatment room” was quite private. Or so it seemed.

Once in the treatment room, with the patient, the fair Drew, prostrate on her stomach, with heart all a flutter and thoughts blurring his mind, Wint began treatment. After raising the dress and lowering the panties, the shot was given.

For the remainder of his years, Wint would ever carry with him the sight of the fair Drew post treatment prep. Just before giving the shot, Wint targeted the treatment site with his eye and the vision was seared in his synapses. To this day, Wint … , well … (best leave that to the readers mind).

Wint, quite satisfied with the results of his treatment administration, sat back and looked about himself. Glancing at the window, immediately adjacent to the treatment room, there stood Mrs. Markee, just inside the glass looking aghast! Dropping the “syringe”, Wint burst from the side yard on a dead run for his house! He abandoned the fair Drew to the ire of her mother!

Crying, Wint ran all the way to his house, to his room and finally to his closet, where he waited for certain trouble. Bad trouble. The kind of trouble in which Mom tells Dad. The kind of trouble for which Dad gives spankings. The kind of spankings that hurt like the dickens. The kind of spankings with which Wint was all too familiar.

Wint lived within his fear all the rest of that day, dreading the arrival of his father. It was long after his father’s arrival home that he began to suspect he might have been spared, which in the end he indeed was.

Wint having been sparred discipline for his actions may have come by way of a silent Mrs. Markey, but in retrospect, Wint believes it was his mom who covered him. Wint’s belief was based on subsequent times in his life where his mom covered him with grace. Wint’s father was a strict disciplinarian who meted out severe punishment, with seeming relish, underserved by any boy. Or a child of any age, for that matter. No mother, well … no loving mother, would knowingly subject her baby boy to such. And that my friends is what I am. Mama’s baby boy, Wint.

Wint