I Can’t Be Friends With My Kids. I Have To Be Their Mom.
I’d already told her it was bedtime, yet my five-year-old was running around the house like a crazy person. Threats were made, and she disappeared.Then she returned.I had no choice but to follow through. The object she’d been playing with went straight into the garbage – just like I’d promised it would if she didn’t … Continue reading I Can’t Be Friends With My Kids. I Have To Be Their Mom.
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