And your point is?

Last Saturday evening in Williamsburg, while a group of us were waiting for dinner (the site fed us on Saturday night!), Sweet Daughter was squirreling around. When she’s tired, she doesn’t get cranky, she doesn’t melt down, she doesn’t suddenly fall asleep, she turns into what we call “shark baby”. As long as she doesn’t stop moving, she figures she won’t miss anything.

She was very close to falling down and going “blammo” several times, so I finally told her “Listen. I don’t have the spray-on Neosporin (the magical topical elixir of life, as far as she is concerned) with me. If you fall down, you’re just going to have to sit there and bleed until I’m done eating and we can walk back to camp.”

And the comment from the peanut gallery? “Wow. That’s Mother-of-the-Year material right there!”

Harumph!