Sad little Cowgirl.

Today was dress-like-a-cowperson-for-some-inexplicable-reason-day at school. Two rather urban looking cowpokes left my house this morning.

One came back in pretty much the shape she left.

 One came back like this:

"So what's going on with your head?"

"Oh my cowboy hat had a staple in it to hold the badge on, don't worry the staple didn't get inside my head or anything, but it cut me really bad."

"Let me look."

She peels back the bandaid and reveals...

"Um...where is it?"

"Here" she points.

"Oh, right, sure I see it. That needed a bandaid?"

"Oh mom, it was killing me."

"So why, exactly, are you wearing it like that?"

"Well, I had it the other way, but it was ripping the eyebrows out of my head, so I switched it. Mom, I'm just a sad little cowgirl."

I flashed to a recent conversation with Aunt Jen, in which she said how easy Brynn is to babysit, because no matter what happens you hand her a box of band aids and all is right with the world.

I would add that you can also hand her a bag of ice, but otherwise truer words were never spoken.