Dear Atilla,
It's not you. It's never you, even though I say it is you.
It's me. I have unrealistic expectations of you. It is completely not your responsibility.
You get frustrated, and you sweep things off the table. It's what babies do.
You can't explain why you do things the way you do, or do the things you do. Babies are just starting out on adding new words to their repertoire, let alone logic and explanations.
You are learning the boundaries of living with mum and dada. Mum and dada are learning how to be firm with you.
I wish you will accept what I say. Sometimes things around the home are dangerous. You are absolutely no good at judging risk. However, if you don't take risks then you will never learn how to learn the skill of risk-management.
So.
Impasse. Sort of.
Love,
Mum.
Winding Back The Hands Of History’s Clock.
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*Holding On To The Present: The moment a political movement arises that
attacks the whole idea of social progress, and announces its intention to
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4 days ago
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