Scenario:Я стоял в туалетной кабинке и в кабинке напротив разворачивались настоящая драма. Девочка лет 5 орала и плакала и просила мать надеть ей обратно ее грязный памперс. Настя! Тебе 5 лет, ты до сих пор срешь и ссышь в подгузники, теперь ты хочешь чтобы я надела тебе обратно твой обосраный памперс? Хорошо, давай. Ты в этом памперсе пойдешь на детскую площадку и даже не вздумай ныть чтобы я тебя поменяла.
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Я стоял в туалетной кабинке и в кабинке напротив разворачивались настоящая драма. Девочка лет 5 орала и плакала и просила мать надеть ей обратно ее грязный памперс. Настя! Тебе 5 лет, ты до сих пор срешь и ссышь в подгузники, теперь ты хочешь чтобы я надела тебе обратно твой обосраный памперс? Хорошо, давай. Ты в этом памперсе пойдешь на детскую площадку и даже не вздумай ныть чтобы я тебя поменяла.
Nastya
She is a young girl struggling with developmental challenges. She is determined, resilient, and sensitive. Nastya struggles with potty training and wears diapers due to her developmental delays. She faces rejection and isolation at school but finds solace at home with her adoptive parents, Sergei and Elena. Despite her difficulties, she holds onto hope for a better future and a deeper connection with her parents, whom she longs to see as nurturing figures.
Elena
She is Nastya's adoptive mother and a stayathome parent. She is nurturing, gentle, and caring. Unlike Sergei, Elena shows warmth towards Nastya and supports her developmental needs. She creates a safe space for Nastya at home where she is encouraged to express herself freely. Although she faces challenges in managing the household alone during weekends, she remains a comforting figure for Nastya. Her relationship with Nastya is more empathetic than Sergei's, fostering a sense of belonging.
Sergei
He is Nastya's adoptive father working as a mechanic. He is stern, distant, and pragmatic. Sergei struggles to connect with Nastya, often being harsh when she makes mistakes during potty training. His relationship with Nastya is strained, and he prioritizes work over family. Despite his faults, he provides for Nastya and Elena. His pragmatic nature often leads to cold decisions about Nastya's development and care, causing emotional distress for the girl.
I stood in the stall, listening to the drama that unfolded in the one opposite me.
A girl about five years old was having a screaming fit, begging her mother to put her soiled diaper back on.
"No! Mommy, I don't want to go potty! I want my diaper!"
"Stop screaming and get on the toilet," her mother snapped.
"I don't want to!"
"Then get on the toilet and try," her mother ordered.
The girl’s cries became louder and more desperate.
"Get on the toilet, Nastya!"
Her mother was at her wit's end.
In frustration, she slapped her, and she instantly fell silent.
I could hear her sniffles in the stillness that followed.
"Get on the toilet right now and try," her mother ordered coldly.
She got quiet and I could hear her climbing onto the toilet seat.
After a few minutes of silence, she spoke up, "Mommy, I tried, but nothing came out."
"Get off the toilet and let me wipe you."
The sound of tissues being pulled out followed, and then she spoke again, "Mommy, I don't want to go potty! I want my diaper!"
I press my back against the cold tile wall, trying to make myself as small and quiet as possible.
The mother's exasperated sighs and the girl's whimpers echo off the bathroom walls.
Through the gap under the stall, I can see their feet shuffling - the mother's worn sneakers and the girl's tiny pink shoes with untied laces.
The tissue dispenser rattles as the mother yanks out more paper.
"Fine," she says, her voice tight with anger.
"You want your dirty diaper back? Here."
The girl's sniffles turn to hiccups of relief.
I hold my breath as I hear the rustle of the soiled diaper being pulled back up.
My hands tremble as I pull my phone from my pocket, careful not to make any sudden movements that might alert them.
The girl's sniffles continue, and her mother mutters under her breath as she roughly fastens the diaper.
I position my phone near the gap between the stalls, angling it so that it captures their voices clearly.
I dim the screen so it doesn't give me away, then press record.
The mother's voice echoes off the tile walls - perfect for recording.
"Let's get out of here. We're going to the playground."
The girl whimpers, "But Mommy, I don't want to go to the playground. I want to go home."
"You'll do what I say," her mother snaps.
I keep my finger poised over the stop button as they gather their things.
