After being put to bed tonight, Marigold hollered down to me in typical fashion. She usually asks for a book or a drink or a baby. This time she complained of ankle pain since being extracted from the grocery cart early this afternoon. This was the first I'd heard of it all day. It didn't hurt earlier, but "now that I'm in bed it is hurting." "Does it need a kiss?" I suggested (usually good for whatever ails ya). "If you kiss it, it will still hurt," was her response. So, I say "What does it need, then?"
"I don't know, Dad, you're the Doctor..."
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