Finding Humour in the Storm II

On the day the rash went away, Little Miss refused to take her Benadryl.  Her feet and hands were itching and the hives were getting bigger, and I had to threaten mommy tears, a trip to the hospital, more blood work, missing a play date, and getting a spanking.

She drank it.
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On the day the rash went away, Little Miss hopped into our big, fancy shower, refused to get out, drained the hot water tank, and sang at the top of her lungs for twenty minutes.  It was a sweet sound.

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On the day the rash went away, as we loaded into the van, I double checked we had food for her, extra clothes for play, water bottles to drink and a cooler full of medicine. Little Miss cheerily volunteered to carry everything out, and promptly got her seatbelt on, eager to go.

Then I notice the bottle of Benadryl hidden under the kitchen table. I can't quite remember what I called her.
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On the day the rash went away, the dog ran away.  You've got to be kidding me.

I drove away, not looking back.
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And finally:

On the day the rash went away, one mom asked Little Miss, "What happened? You're all cleared up!"

Little Miss looks up and says, "I had a shower," and ran off to play.

"Oh, so you were just dirty this whole time." lol
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So not exactly humour...more exasperation, perhaps, but such is life with Little Miss.

Erin