Holy Meltdown Batman!

To all of my dear friends who witnessed the disturbing events that transpired today...

I would like to let you know that, after my kid called your kids terrible names, called you terrible names, and called me everything in the book besides patient, loving, beffudled mother, and after a harrowing road trip home with me trying to keep my chin up while this verbal abuse went on, and laughing through my tears as (God! You won't even believe this!) Beat on the Brat by the Ramones was playing on the radio....

We called the chiropractor and the child's vertebrae have been adjusted so that her head turns in a normal fashion, instead of fully rotating.

We called the gastroenterologist and the green pea soup has been pumped from her stomach.

We called the surgeon and the blue bucket has finally been removed from her grasp.

We called a bible camp teacher by the name of Linda, who is the finest exorcist Concord Christian School could find and she informed us that although the devil is still working hard on our child, a few rounds of "May the Circle Be Unbroken" and some minor child abuse should nip it in the bud.

We called the podiatrist and he recommended she wear size 13 men's shoes from now on, which will serve to prevent her from running too fast and having to be corralled by two heat exhausted mothers again.

We called the zoo, told them our story, and asked for some small primate tranquilizer darts. They are sending them Federal Express.

We called on the doctor and told him Focalin probably wasn't the most calming of medicines for this particular child.

Well, we really just called a family meeting on the kitchen floor for a deadly serious lecture to the child, that ended up with her remorseful and tearful little head on Daddy's shoulder. She managed to hiccup out, "I do all of the things a bad friend does. Sometimes I feel guilty about me."

And well, a sad as that sounds, I think that can be called a good thing today.