I can-- just barely-- understand an eleven-year old who has to sleep in Depends every night.
I can understand a certain measure of rudeness and social ineptness in children who have a less than desirable background.
I am beginning to understand a picky palate. (sort of.)
But I cannot understand an eleven-year-old who would rather wet her pants than interrupt her activity to go to the bathroom. Every. Single. Day.
A four-year-old, maybe. An eleven-year-old, no.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
If I Can Make It Till Tomorrow I'll Be Fine
Posted by
cindy kay
on
Thursday, July 03, 2008
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