Why must girls be so damn dramatic?!

So Beth fell today. We were coming back from the grocery store and she was all grown up, wearing her new flip flops. They're orange with green frogs on them; she picked them out herself! But she has a habit of dragging her feet and she caught the front of one shoe on the pavement...BAM!!! Down goes Frasier! She immediately wailed and I honestly had no idea what she'd hit, aside from concrete. She stood up, all blubbering and sputtering, and I saw skinned hands and skinned knee.

That one little skinned knee brought on TWO HOURS of tragedy. She cried and ran when she saw me coming at her with the antiseptic (I use the Band-Aid brand that has the words "Pain Relief" in its name, but I learned a long time ago that kids can't comprehend, "It'll feel better." They just know, "It HURTS!"), she flopped around like a fish out of water when I tried to put the band-aid on, and popped loose that one last screw when it was bath time. She wouldn't put it in the water and she screamed bloody murder every time water ran over it. After all that was done, I gave her some children's ibuprofen and put her to bed. She was out cold within two minutes.

I'm vainly holding on to hope that she'll get past all this drama, but being a professional-grade drama queen for the better part of my long-legged 28 years, I know damn well that this is just the tip of the iceberg. Sugar and spice, my ass!

But I love that little spitfire.