The Christmas Concert

“Oh, don’t you look sweet Timmy?” said Carolyn as she flattened out his little suit for the Christmas concert. “My little man…”

“Carolyn, it’s time to go!” Doug called from the next room.

Carolyn grabbed Timmy’s hand and pulled him out to the car. She didn’t even ask if he needed to go potty. She was too busy and they were going to be late! They buckled him into the car and sped off to the school where the annual concert would be held. This was Timmy’s first one and Carolyn and Doug wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Carolyn looked back at her five-year-old son and smiled at him, “You’re going to be great sweet heart,” she told him. Even though he would only be standing there singing off-key like the rest of the kids, she felt the need to recognize his bravery. She wouldn’t be caught dead singing in front of an audience, even if it was with a choir.

Timmy was wiggling in the back seat, fiddling with his jacket. “You nervous, bud?” Carolyn asked.

The boy shrugged and continued to wiggle. He wasn’t much for talking.

When they finally got to the school, they sent Timmy off to his classroom and grabbed a seat near the front. Doug took out the video camera and turned it on to check that it was working. The other parents were doing the same thing. Carolyn smiled, “Oh Doug, I’m so excited! Timmy’s going to be great.”

“Mhm,” Doug replied, fiddling with the camera.

Then the kids came out on stage. The kindergarten class was large this year, but Timmy was visible in his spot at the centre of the front row. The teacher smiled and stepped up to the microphone. Her name was Miss McTavish, a skinny little lady from the south. Doug had a slight attraction to her, though he could never tell his wife. The young teacher spoke in a disguised accent, “Welcome to the Handler Memorial Elementary Kindergarten Christmas Concert! We’re going to be singing some classics, some modern, some religious, and some secular tunes, so keep an open mind. Without further ado, we’ll start with Jingle Bells!” The piano chimed; it was out of tune, though it didn’t matter for most of the children couldn’t sing well enough to understand.

Carolyn smiled as she watched her nervous little boy sway back and forth as he sang Jingle Bells with his hands in his pockets. “He’s looking quite nervous,” whispered Carolyn.

“Mhm,” Doug replied, zooming in on Miss McTavish’s breasts.

Jingle Bells ended swiftly and they were onto Up on the Housetop. Timmy was getting more and more fidgety. He looked uncomfortable. “Do you suppose that suit was too small for him?”

“I don’t know, Carolyn. He’s probably just freaked out with all these people looking at him.”

“Oh shit…”

“What?” Doug asked, pulling away from the camera.

“I forgot to take him to the bathroom before we came.”

“You think he’s got to go?”

“Damn! We can’t just grab him, can we?”

Doug shrugged, “Let’s just wait. If he gets desperate we’ll grab him.”

“But what if he has an accident up there?”

“He won’t, Carolyn.”

The two continued to watch their son dance and wiggle along to Silent Night and then Heron Carol. Little Timmy was getting anxious. He was squeezing his legs together and getting right into the ‘pee-pee dance’. Then he stuffed his hand down his pants and held his crotch tightly.

“Oh Doug, look at him! He’s going to pee his pants!” Carolyn got up and grabbed her son, rushing him out of the auditorium.

“Mommy I have to go pee-pee! I have to go really bad, right now!”

“It’s going to be okay sweetie, just hold it a little longer.”

“Mommy I really really have to go!”

Down the corridor, Carolyn saw the door to the washroom. She burst through the door of the boys’ room. All stalls were occupied, so she hurriedly tried to pull down Timmy’s pants. “Honey I need you to let go for a sec so you can go potty.”

Timmy whimpered, removing his hand. He started dancing again; a feeble attempt at staying dry. “Hurry Mommy!” he whimpered,”I can’t hold it anymore!”

Carolyn pulled down her son’s pants, revealing his suddenly soaked underwear. Timmy began to cry as the pee ran down his legs, drenching his shoes, socks, and dress pants.


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