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Our 5-year-old still has a bed-wetting problem, especially when he is too tired from his day time activities. Here is one of those stories according to Daddy.

It was a Sunday night, after a really long day (visiting friends, late lunch in a newly opened dim-sum place, lots of playing and running in the park). As usual, Daddy told William a story to help him sleep. It turned out they both fell into sleep almost instantly.

Then William peed in his dream…

Since the big guy was lying next to the little guy, and since the big guy was heavier, most of the liquid crawled to the big guy’s pants.

“No!!!!” The big guy finally woke up and screamed.

“What Daddy?” The little guy woke up as well, a little confused by what he saw.

“Daddy - did you wet my bed?”

“NO, I didn’t!”

“Then why are your pants so wet?”

“Why? Because YOU peed in your bed! And not only that - you wet my pants, too!” The big guy was clearly upset.

The little guy thought for a while, shook his head and said, “Daddy, you REALLY shouldn’t have worn those pants!”

“William - I don’t think THAT is the real problem!” said the big guy, “The real problem is SOMEONE PEED IN HIS BED!”

Silence. Then, in a very concerned voice, the little guy broke the silence, “Daddy - you REALLY need to talk to Mommy…”

“Why is that?”

“Three bottles! Remember? Mommy gave me three bottles of juice today! Who can hold up that much water?!”

He was right - I did took three small bottles of his favorite juice to the dim-sum place.

Nice try William… and we still love you

Received a phone call from someone I didn’t know.

At first, I thought it was a tele-marketer. I was about to hang up; then I realized I liked her voice. It was a woman, with very gentle voice. She sounded a little timid for some reason.

“I don’t think I met you,” I said, “Can you remind me?”

“Uh… You came to our clinic the other day…”, her voice was almost shaky.

“clinic? For what?” I asked.

“Uh.. You visited our clinic… Are you going to use our service - we are the family plan clinic…”

“Oh! The family plan service!” I remembered.

I told her about our decision.

“Congratulations!” She said.

We chatted a little before hanging up.

I liked her voice. It was very cheerful in the end.

For some reason, being reminded of the difficult decision-making time made me happy. I felt proud.

I don’t think I am political at all on this issue. Pro-life and pro-choice probably will continue to fight for another million years. I am lucky because as it turned out life is my choice in this case. Being through all this struggle, I can now better understand the arguments of both sides. I can appreciate both sides’ agony. I think I would admire a woman who has gone through the same struggle, regardless of her final decision.

Those who live through hard times deserve respect; to be fair, by-standers should keep their mouths shut - at least they should stop pointing fingers.

Anyways, I now feel pretty happy and proud of myself (and my husband). No, we still don’t know how to handle this. It’s not important - isn’t life uncertain by default?

I feel a little sad for the lady who called me. I wonder what she really thinks about her daily job. It’s not healthy to do things that you don’t like; and it must be really terrible to do things that you’re ashamed of. It must really hurt to hide that joyful voice all day long…

I want to tell her that maybe she should change her job.

On a 2nd thought, what difference can I make? Plus, who give me the right to tell her how to spend her life?

I am just a pregnant woman. I am expecting…