I admire the depth of Christine Smallwood’s impressive research into bed-wetting therapies ['Are You Sleeping?,' Forum, August]. One treatment she neglected to mention, however, was the method my mother used: she brought me in from playing outdoors, stood me before my bed, forced my head down, and rubbed my face in the soiled sheet. I’ll bet her 'cure' was not an uncommon practice back in the 1940s. And while I did later have occasional incontinence issues on the playground, I never again wet the bed. Success — except for the sad memories.
—The Letters section of this month's Harper's is rough going.