So, my 8 year old daughter fell down twice yesterday and landed on her arm. Now, I'm a pretty laid back parent. If you aren't bleeding from the ears or growing a third arm on your ass, you're not going to the emergency room where I'll have to shell out a $100 co-pay for some doctor who has been on call for 56 hours straight tell me in a bored voice that "It's not pneumonia, she just has a tickle in her throat" or "Her ankle isn't broken. She jumped down off of the bed when you weren't looking and just kicked me in the shin."

If you have a daughter, you know all about the crocodile tears and drama queen nonsense. Dr. Mom is in the house and if you can wiggle your fingers, nothing is bleeding and there isn't a bone protruding from your arm, you're fine. Shake it off.

My husband, being the more loving parent obviously (and by loving I mean a huge SUCKER for crocodile tears) went to the store and bought her a sling for her arm. Oh sweet baby Jesus, you would have thought we needed to get a handicapped parking space after that. "I can't pick up my toys, I'm wearing a sling.", "I can't wipe my ass, I'm wearing a sling."

She was wrestling with her little brother earlier (with her sling on, because obviously wrestling isn't as hard on her arm as picking up a few stuffed animals) when all of a sudden we hear, "Drew, I am going to tell all of your friends when you're in high school that I pinned you with one arm. That's just pathetic."

And she just COMPLETELY redeemed herself. I'm going to tell all of his friends in high school too. I think we'll make a day of it.