Jernee is eleven years old now, almost twelve. Her bladder, as expected, does not hold liquids as long as it used to. Thus, I make trips home during my lunch break, wake up in the middle of the night to take her out, and have resorted to putting “puppy pads” down once again to help my baby girl if I know I am going to be away from home much longer than expected. This is what aging is all about, eh?
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