Last night he called me from the golf course and said, "Your daughter just ran over her own leg with a golf cart."
What?
Turns out he and The Politician walked down the fairway to get a ball and left the Wild Child sitting peacefully in the golf cart, and she promised she'd stay put. My husband turned around and saw her standing up in the floorboard with the pedal to the metal... then saw her fall out and get her leg run over.
Luckily, she's fine. Laughing and running and such. She seems to have been given 9 lives to go along with her Conduct Disorder. Good thing.
But just how many heart attacks is she going to give us?