Have you ever had one of those days where you could just grab someone off the street and beg, “Please! Please come to my house and watch my kid so I can go to the bathroom in peace!”
The last week has been like this for me. It’s not even my poor kid’s fault, really; it’s just a combination of cosmic events leading to chaos. You see, we live with and care for a mentally handicapped relative, who can be very demanding. While we get free rent out of it, it does amount to about as much work as you’d have taking care of a ten-year-old child—without being able to discipline the child, and with having the child’s brothers and sisters go behind and undermine everything you say, say yes to things we simply cannot do, and generally make it even more hellacious.
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