Alternative Measures

Amadea is spending the night at Jim's house. As she was leaving, she came running back to me, a folded paper clutched in her hand.

"Gramma!" she said all in a rush, "I got this from daycare! I didn't forget!"

She handed me the paper and hurried off to take Jim's hand, making their way across the parking lot. I watched them leave, feeling so tired, rubbing my left thigh to try to ease the pain.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, I absently unfolded the letter. The first words I saw were ALTERNATIVE MEASURES AGREEMENT.

WTH?

I had to read and re-read the damn paper a couple of times before my muddled brain figured out that it was not from the daycare. It was not about Amadea at all.

It was an agreement for some sort of fraud my daughter had committed. It was my daughter's alternative measure, not Amadea's.

The relief made me lightheaded. On the plus side, for a minute or so, I did not actually notice the pain in my hip.