"Hey Rabbit." I recognized the voice calling out that name. It was Vernie. He hung out with my older brother. I didn't pay much attention. I didn't know anyone named Rabbit. He was probably my brother's friend too. I would never rate an introduction because that would require my brother to acknowledge my existence. Being a boy in grade one was definitely the bottom of the social strata. Vernie and my brother were in grade six. That put them right up there at the top.

I was barely even in grade one, given that this was the first week of school. And I was not six years old yet. In that moment of hearing Vernie, I was trying to will myself out of existence anyway. I was immersed in the shame of having just wet my pants on the playground.

Looking back, I remember it all very well. There was the sudden and familiar pressure. It was the sign of a bladder that had not caught up in size to an already small boy. I panicked knowing that I could not hold it and walk to the washroom at the same time. I twisted my little legs together in a desperate effort to forestall the inevitable.

I felt the warmth starting down my leg and the defeat of knowing that I could not stop it. I watched in horror as a dark blot emerged against the faded background of my washed out jeans. And then, against every bit of will power I could muster, the rapidly elongating blot hit the end of my pants leg and liquefied into a sun-enhanced, yellow stream that ended in an obvious puddle in the bare dust of the playground.

I was immobilized by a flush of embarrassment. I shut my eyes in the belief that if my eyes were closed no one could see me. I finally turned in an effort to hide the view of wet denim plastered to my leg and noticed the empty shadow cast in my direction by the school building. I crept into it like a wounded outlaw.

I heard a window slide open. There was my teacher, Mrs. M looking right down at me. My hiding place was right under her window! She had been monitoring the playground while eating her lunch and had witnessed the entire episode.

I retreated further into my refuge until my back was against the cold brick wall. I was in a place where it seemed to me, the sun would never shine. I heard the words, "I am coming to get you". I felt both the terror of being caught and the immense relief of being rescued.

She appeared from around the corner and took my hand. I stumbled along beside her in total surrender. She took me through the janitor's entrance and down into the furnace room. I felt a surge of fear because I was now in territory previously deemed by her to be totally off-limits. What was going happen to me that other students were not allowed to see? I should have run away while I had the chance!

Mrs. M went into a closet. My fear soared to an uncontrollable trembling. What instrument of punishment was she getting out for me, clearly something that was kept hidden and used only on children who wet themselves? If I had not wet my pants before, surely I would have done it then.

She emerged holding a folded pile of clean clothes. She handed them to me and said, in a very kind voice, that it would be okay for me to wear them. I struggled to comprehend the immense reversal of my fortune occurring in that moment. I was stunned. I numbly replaced my sodden clothing, aware of being interrupted only briefly by a warm, damp cloth.

Curiosity slowly brought me back to awareness. I looked around the furnace room with fascination. This stagnant and dimly lit place must be very special to be forbidden. I did have a very early awareness of irony in that moment. It occurred to me that I was allowed entry to that special place through no greater achievement than wetting my pants.

Mrs. M gave me a carrot from her lunch and told me to go outside and play again until noon recess was over. I stopped well short of the playground. My experience and the puddle were still too fresh. I sat timidly on the front step, still not fully recovered. I stared down at my feet without really seeing them. I was feeling sorry for myself in that self-indulgent way that can be quite enjoyable. Poor me. Who would ever care about a lowly little grade one boy anyway? I nibbled on my carrot mournfully. It was my only source of comfort.

"Hey Rabbit", I heard a second time, so close that I was startled. I looked up. There was Vernie. He was smiling and talking to me! In a flash, nothing else mattered.