It's Not The End Of The World, It Just Seems Like It...

So, the teenager calls from school this morning. She's got that voice. The one that tells me she wants me to feel sorry for her because her life is no longer worth living, for the umpteenth time this week.

She needs to come home from school. Something horrible, really, really horrible has happened to her. This horrible thing is so horrible that staying in school today is impossible. She has no choice. She must come home. She must come home now.

She got some makeup on her shirt.

Can I call the office and get her an early release?

Um, no.

Although this is obviously serious in a my-life-is-ruined kind of way, I'm not inclined to allow her to miss an entire day of of school because she got a smudge of makeup on her shirt. She took this news as well as could be expected.

She hung up on me.

Ah yes. Parenthood. Delightful.

Update: She called to apologize. That's something I suppose.

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