Mrs Wanda
Mrs. Wanda
On July sixth, 1988, I turned five years old. It had been a difficult year. My parents were going through a tough divorce, and as much as a five-year-old could be bitter, I was. About three months after my dad moved out of our house, my mom got a new job. Of course this new job did not appeal to me at all. My mom had always been home with us. She had quit working when I was born, and had always devoted every second of her time to me. The only solution to the mom-going-to-work-thing was a babysitter. Mom began to take interviews in our living room every afternoon. As every nanny left, my head was the first to shake from left to right. I was a very aware five year old (and very spoiled too, so that didn?t help much). But for some reason my mom always listened to me. Because we were without a babysitter, we spent every day for about a month with my grandmother.
One late August afternoon my family was called in to Deautrive Hospital. My great grandmother was sick and had been rushed there in an ambulance. A puzzled feeling came over me
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