As if that weren’t bad enough just as she finished asserting that she wasn’t a baby she realized she was wetting her pants. That was real mature of her, wetting her pants like a three year old. Jess just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Yes, crawl. That would be awful fitting for a big baby who needs to be put back in diapers where she belongs.
In spite of her incessant sobbing, Jess heard a soft knock at the door. “Go away! I don’t want to talk to anyone!”
“Jess, it’s your mother.”
“I said I don’t want to talk to anyone!”
“Jess, I love you. You know what you do when you love someone, Jess? You stand by them through thick and thin. If you think I’m going anywhere until you let me in to talk to you, you’ve got another thing coming.”