Sharing a laugh

I've been blog hopping for a few minutes debating about whether I should share this story or not. It provides a laugh at my sweet girl's expense.

Then I thought, what the heck. One day I'll remind her of this story and we'll both laugh.

Tonight we were on our way home from Our Favorite Place (aka: Barnes and Noble). Suddenly from the back seat, I heard sobbing. Shrieking, even.

I almost drove off the road trying to figure out what in the world was wrong with her.

"My RING, MY RING."

"What ring??? What is WRONG???"

"Mommy," sobbing intensifies, "my fingers broke my ring!!!!" (oh, this is one of the cheapest plastic rings...purple with a little foot on it)

"What???!!!!?????"

Shrieking, sobbing, honest-to-goodness tears, "MOMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY, MY FINGERS BROKE-DED MY RING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I'm still trying to figure this out.

"Honey, stop crying and tell me what in the world is wrong. Do your fingers hurt?" Please note that I am still driving at this point.

"No, my fingers don't hurt. My fingers broke my ring. Here! FIX IT! *exaggerated pause* You CAN'T FIX IT. IT'S TOO BROKEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" sobbing resumes as an escalated level. I'm sure the passing cars are wondering what in the world is going on in the van.

"M, honey. How exactly did your fingers break your ring? And where did you get this ring?"

"My fingers did this. (I think she was putting her fingers together and pulling them apart, but it's PITCH BLACK OUTSIDE AND I COULDN'T SEE HER!) This is my specialist ring from the pizza place. Me and Daddy had to play VERY hard to get it!" SOBBING again. I'm trying not to laugh out loud.

"Let Mommy have the ring." She hands it over. It obviously can not be fixed. "M, I don't think we can fix this ring. But we'll ask Daddy to take us to the pizza place and you guys can get another one." Uh, oh...major mistake. She doesn't WANT another one.

No lie. This is what my kid said.

"MOMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!! I don't think I can have another one. What if my fingers breaks another one????????????????????????????????????" I'm surprised her dress wasn't soaked at this point from all the tears.

"Here. Why don't you try to fix this one?" I should have just exited the vehicle at this point.

"AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I can't fix it. I AM NOT A GOOD FIXER."

I'm not sure what was louder. Her sobs or my laughter.

All I could say was, "Oh."

So we have a date tomorrow for the pizza place where M and her daddy can play very hard to get another cheap plastic ring. When I called H to share this story, he laughed as hard as I did.

Then we both decided that this is what you get when you have an exhausted three year old who hasn't had a nap in at least 3 days.