God, help me. I’m in over my head with this one, and she’s adept at picking the world’s worst places for her tantrums and tirades. Show me what to do, how to handle her. Help me be strong when a really big part of me just wants her to be quiet. And nice.
Change the things you can…
Her catchphrase of the day, the month, the year.
Skeeter was her responsibility, her job, her child. It was up to Rita to fix the problem, one way or another.
As she passed the small Grasse Bend police station, Brooks’ words came to mind. Hmm, jail cells for seven-year-olds?
Definite potential if she didn’t get this obnoxious behavior under control, the sooner the better.
