As I’ve told you, Corrie has been pretty rattled since the Sinister Flush of Death incident. There has been nary a drop of tinkle make it into a public potty ever since.
Today, once again, I tried to encourage her to give it a whirl at McDonald’s. I coaxed and begged and affirmed my heart out, but she would have none of it. Thinking that I would prove to her that the potty wouldn’t flush us both to oblivion, I demonstrated by sitting on it myself. As I sat there, she looked up at me worriedly, then threw her chubby little arms around me, whispering, "I gotcha, Momma. You safe."
Oh, my heart.