I wish! Bedwetting was a rare occasion for me when I was between 4 and 9; when we moved, it was more frequent from 9 to 11 and my parents did nothing about it but complain, with heavy emphasis on my father, who'd fill the air with pi** & moan because he could, and felt it was his God-given privilege to do so as the head of the house. My parents married very young (father almost 19, mother just turned 16), way too young in my opinion. They could barely take care of themselves, let alone children and much less a special-needs child, which I ended up being.
Father would always gripe about every single bedwetting episode and always threatened me with Pampers over it...and threatened me with assault a time or two (he did throw me across the room a time or two). He never did anything constructive about any childhood issue: once I was sent home with lice during a school epidemic and when I got home, he was there with a menacing look on his face and told me to "get in [my] f***ing room and out of [his] f***ing sight"...which explains his character at that time. Mother, the soft-spoken one, reamed him out for that because I ran to my room, shattered and sobbing uncontrollably.
I don't talk with my parents much. I feel I burdened them enough as a child and thus stay away. They also know I want nothing from them if they die. Despite the fact I badly wanted to be in diapers for emotional reasons, they would've been an effective means to control my bedwetting in my then-unknown autism (I was just written off as a "retard" back then for it by others)...and very well could've changed our family dynamic for the better, even if only slightly so.