Richard was finishing his second cup of coffee in front of the morning news when his 27-year-old daughter, Amanda, came down the stairs wearing a black tube top and her diapers from the night before. She was barefoot, her strides provocative. Once she emerged into the expansive living room, Richard downed the dregs of his mug to mask his disappointment. He’d been hoping to slip out before she would wake. “Daddy?” Amanda called, her voice hoarse from sleep. “Yes, honey,” he answered, setting the mug down. “I pooped myself. You’re going to have to clean me up.” “Jesus, again?” “Yes. “It’s probably the leftover pizza you let me eat at 3 o’clock last night, so I guess it’s partly your fault.” “I’m sorry, honey, but you’ll have to take care of this yourself. You caught […]
