As I continue to sob and gasp for breath, you again caress my cheeks, then pull my diaper back up and lift me so I am sitting on your lap.The sight of...tears streaming down my face is like a knife being stuck into you. You hold me tight, press my head to your chest and rock me for several minutes. Finally, I seem to have brought myself under control.As you stroke my back and my sobbing slows, you ask me again, “Now, baby, tell me, what is the matter? What don’t you want?”Between sobs, I choke. With no homework, Roger once he had changed into joggers and a tee shirt, joined his mother to discuss which subject, he should take next term. He found her sitting, on the sofa, Emmerdale, her favourite soap, just having finished, he sat opposite her, flopped in an armchair, as they thrashed out his wants and needs for his future, which subject and the like, his school needing to know his preferences. His mother sat casually one leg tucked under her backside her smooth nylons rustling as she. More

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