Another instance in which on command vomiting would have been useful

Willa and I are really going to have to work on some kind of system that will punish people who do not have her best interest in mind; like doctors who think we should sit at home with a 106 fever. Vomiting on command is the best idea I have now. I thought of asking her to lean over and bite her "friend" on their arm, but that's unnecessary pain inflicted on people who aren't familiar with the strength of her jaws or sincerity of her will. Teaching her to flip people off would probably only backfire on us later. I am taking suggestions.

Yesterday when I picked Willa up from daycare a fully formed adult employed by the day care to tend to the safety and needs of the children mentioned to me that Willa ate the charm off of her (the adult's) shoe. Uh... what? My kid ate something off of your shoe? Last week? And you're only telling me about it now? In her defense, she is a moron. Also, her voice is like a 3rd grader's.

Generally I'm a nice person. Really. Ask around. Oh, Amy? Yup, she's nice. I tried to draw on my strengths in the face of adversity. "You really need to let parents know if something like this happens. That's pretty harmful, and we need to watch to see if it passes through her system." She said, (really she did this, could I even make this up?) "if you see a dinosaur in one of her diapers, could you clean it off and bring it back?" She totally wasn't getting it. And this is when I wish that Willa could have taken over and vomited all over her now dinosaurless shoes. But no. Slacker.

I got in my car, which was a difficult feat when considering that I was feeling roughly what a mother lion feels when some other beast messes with her cub. Oh, I thought, so this is mother rage. I dialed the phone and spoke with the center's director. The director was equally shocked and disturbed. She told me she'd get to the bottom of this. 20 minutes later there was a message on my phone from the director who was letting me know that this didn't make it any better, but spacey girl's dinosaur was a small piece of foam, and not sharp, pointy tetanus-carrying metal that was, at this moment, puncturing her bowel. Also, it may have been swept up and thrown away instead. Spacey girl was mentioning it to me because she thought it was funny (and because she wants her freakin' dinosaur back). She's now been written up and properly educated.

[I need to insert here that with the exception of this one employee, I fully trust and adore the staff at the center Willa is at. They are wonderful, and particularly not spacey or moronic.]

Willa, by the way, is fine. Last night I put her to bed while she was fully awake and laughing. I heard her play for a minute, then the music from her crib toy that she turned on herself. When I went to check on her a few minutes later, she was sleeping on her knees with her butt in the air. I covered her up and patted her head. "Goodnight sweet Willa. Goodnight foam dinosaur."