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Weekly Contest #352
I was three. I wet the bed. My mom didn’t scold me or sigh or look at me like I had ruined the night. She lifted me like I weighed nothing and carried me to the bathroom. Her arms were warm. Her hands were sure. She cleaned me gently, like it was ordinary, like I was still good. Then she put clean clothes on me and walked me into the kitchen.She sat me on the floor with my favorite snack: saltine crackers and a cup of water. I liked the way the crackers changed when they touched the water—how the hard edges gave up and went soft. I would dip...
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