to paint me as a child-hating maniac who’d nearly fed her kids to wolves.
Mom made pot roast. Dad was in his recliner pretending to watch golf. Melissa was already there with the kids, acting tired in a very decorated way, one hand to her forehead every few minutes.
Sadie ran to me when I walked in.
That hurt.
Kids don’t know who’s using who. They just continue reading …
