F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. “What did you say, sweetie?” I asked, hoping I’d heard my daughter incorrectly. And then she said it again. And again. And…again. After I put my eyes back into my sockets, unclenched my jaw and remembered how to breathe, my immediate next thought was, I’m a horrible mother. I knew my daughter had learned …
Why being “good” may be anything but
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