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One day you’re trying to pee alone and your toddler kicks the bathroom door open like a tiny FBI agent. The next day… your eight-year-old suddenly knocks and feels embarrassed around you.
I say it in the middle of the chaos. In the loud, sticky, why-is-there-yogurt-on-the-ceiling moments. In the car when everyone is talking at once and I can feel my brain short circuiting.
Trigger warning: This piece shares a personal story involving childhood sexual abuse. Please take care while reading.