The Write Answer
by“I’m a bad mum,” Tracey told me as I went to jump into bed tonight.
“No, you’re not,” I assured her.
“I am. Look.”
She held up a diary of some sort. It was open at a page which she’d clearly written stuff on.
“I’m a bad mum,” Tracey told me as I went to jump into bed tonight.
“No, you’re not,” I assured her.
“I am. Look.”
She held up a diary of some sort. It was open at a page which she’d clearly written stuff on.