"You know how I feel about you behaving like a toddler, we had this discussion last week." Your mom says, barely containing her anger. "Get in the corner!" Seeing no point in protesting that you are not Sarah, you comply.
As you stand with your nose pressed to the corner a memory comes to you from when you were six, the last time that you wet the bed. You remember that your mother hates it when big kids don't use the potty, in fact that is the only thing you can remember being spanked for. As you approach having spent 8 minutes in the corner - as many years as Sarah is old - a feeling of dread creeps over you. Then comes the thing that you were dreading. "Come here young lady" Mom says. When you turn around you see her sat on the chair from Sarah's desk set, on the desk beside her is ...
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