Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
James was one of my regulars. He was a successful architect, intelligent and articulate in his professional life, but beneath the veneer of competence was a deep-seated need for comfort and discipline. The contrast was often poignant. He stood on the porch, clutching a worn teddy, his eyes wide and a little anxious. “Cory,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Hey, sweetie,” I replied, opening the door wider. “Come on in. It’s chilly out.”
He shuffled inside, immediately drawn to the cozy warmth of my living room. The scent of lavender and vanilla filled the air, the soft lighting casting a comforting glow. A playpen sat discreetly in the corner, surrounded by toys and plush blankets. It was a sanctuary. “Rough day?” I asked, gesturing towards the plush armchair. He nodded, burying his face in the teddy. “Mr. Henderson keeps micromanaging everything.” I knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his back. “Sounds stressful, honey. Did you remember to wear your pull-up today?” He nodded again, a small blush creeping up his neck. “Yes, Mama.” “Good boy,” I praised, my voice soft but firm. “Did you have any accidents?”
