You don’t have to be expressly called a dipstick by an elementary school kid in order to feel like one.
I can still remember the first time that my sweet-faced, doting, little princess ripped my heart out. She was two.
How can I allow my school-aged child with autism to still play with a toy designed for a toddler? Doesn't that go against the very nature of my job?
Enlightened as I was, there was nowhere further to go. I had been a horrible person, needed to repent, and that was the end of the story.