Dear Papa,

do you remember the days when you had to wake a little version of me up in the night, just before you would go to sleep, so that I wouldn't wet my bed? You used to wake me gently, telling me in a soft voice to sit up and kneel in bed, so I could pee into that beautiful white ceramic pot. When I was done, you'd kiss me goodnight, turn off the light again and I'd slip back into my dreams, sometimes almost without noticing I'd just relieved myself.
And do you remember how I used to always scratch myself in that same spot just under the belly, above the right leg? And it seemed like I couldn't pee if I didn't do so...

Well, last night, after more than a decade and a half, I wish you had been there to wake me up again...

What a weird sensation, to wake up wrapped in warm and wet bedding... funnily enough not a completely uncomfortable one, though ultimately embarrassing and nearly impossible to hide.

Well, I shall go - I have some washing to do now and a heavy head to rest.

Love,
Selmo