I was already nearly eight years old when my little brother arrived. That being the case, I got to know his body with some intimacy as mum bathed him, changed his nappy or smacked his bottom for being naughty (a punishment I myself received from time to time, I should add).
When he had just turned five, Michael went through something of a phase of continence problems. He would occasionally wet or even poo his pants, but the most common issue was having a dirty bottom from not wiping properly after the toilet, which would then stain the seat of his undies.