Sweet Justice

I know! I haven't announced the Appliance Poetry Slam winner yet! Mostly because I cannot figure out how to get a picture of the poll results pasted into my post. Also? I haven't thought of a prize yet. Give me a couple of days, all right? I'm not good at this sort of thing, the way the Big Dogs of mommy blogging are.

The head cold from hell is still here. I run around for an hour or so cooking, doing dishes, cleaning up; then I fall onto the couch and languish until I'm able to get back up again. My kids don't even notice. To them, I'm so old I'm almost dead anyway, right?

But before I put the other foot in the grave, I would like to share with the other mothers of teen girls out there an infrequent moment of sweet justice. You will recall the illuminating discussion I had with Anna about dental hygiene as she was packing for her European vacation. You know, the discussion during which she claimed not to need to floss?

Well, Anna had her biannual (biennial?) dental appointment yesterday. And when the dentist (who was, by the way, young and good-looking and therefore sure to be listened to by an enamored teen girl) looked at her x-rays, he said, "You know, there are weak spots here between the teeth that could turn into decay - you really have to pay attention to the flossing."

Be still my heart! I could have kissed him.

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By the way, I was sure at least one commenter the other day would come up with a good (clean!) answer for "How many teen girls does it take to screw in a lightbulb?" The answer in our household was one, plus a teen brother. Yup, Theo had to help her out in the end - he said she had the bulb screwed in wrong. I didn't even know that was possible.

And for anyone who thinks I'm being mean by advertising Anna's ineptitude in this matter, let me explain that she prides herself on acting clueless. This affectation of ditziness extends to all areas of her life, from math (which she is actually quite good at, making her vapidity all the more puzzling) to the proper way to put on her seatbelt. Considering that, when I was a teen, I prided myself on being smarter than smart (because, let's face it, at that point in my life my SAT scores were all I had going for me), I can't help being puzzled by her wanting to appear as brainless as a Playboy Bunny.

Just part of that adolescent brain-drain, I suppose...