Monkey Wrench

The Howler decided to sign up for afterschool intermural volleyball. On the very first day, she wrenched her neck. Apparently, her head zigged when her body zagged.

She calls me at work, 15 minutes before her Grandpa will be there to pick her up. Ugh. While I can here the pain in her voice, I also know my girl is a Drama Queen, so I have to quantify the Drama of it before I'll agree to leave work. Finally, I have no choice but to ask her, "do you neeeeeed ME to come?" Her final answer was, "Yes, I want you, Mom."

THAT doesn't happen often enough for me to be bored with it, so I scramble and call...and Grandpa has already left. I instruct the Gator to call him and tell him to wait there for me. I get there, and hot damn! The Howler really did pull something badly enough that she is in legit pain.

On the way home, while fully stopped at a red light, the Howler squeals in pain...and then tells me to "don't hit the brakes so hard." I tell her we are fully stopped, and that I AM TOO being careful with my driving!

I get her home and tell her that she has NO CHOICE but to do EXACTLY as I say. If it hurts as bad as all that, she will, for the first--and probably only--time in her life do what I say, when I say, how I say.

Miracles happen:  she actually does what I say, when I say, how I say. And then she tells me I'm right. (Which is why I'm documenting this here.) I manage to get her to giggle about "Duh de Mayo" and other G rated rants about general things.

Later in the evening, I tell her more what to do. And again, a short time later I get the payoff:  I am right. Twice in one day, she tells me I'm right.

I think she was high from the Tylenol.