My daughter was two days old when I walked across my living room and fully, completely, without warning, peed my pants. Not just a little. A full bladder expulsion, zero warning, drenched yoga pants, ...
I was 23 when my son was born. Technically an adult, though even then I knew that was sort of laughable. (I’m 44 now and still occasionally scan the room for the actual grown-up.) I was rocketed from ...
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