The Meanest Mom Ever, Really

As the years have passed, I have picked up a few pearls of parenting wisdom (or wiseguy-ness). I have found them to come in quite handy as I move along the path to teen-dom.
Coming in just a few short years....argh!
Some of these pearls I learned from my own parents, such as the "If I tell you why, will that be the end of it?" What joy I had when I first found myself in a situation to use that torturous juxtaposition on my own children.
Another pearl I picked up from my older sister. It is like a golden hammer in my tool box. It goes something like this:
Child X: "Mom, why can't I jump off the roof onto the trampoline with my bike?" Or some folly similar to this.
Me, The Mom: "Because I am the meanest mom, ever."

Now at this point, they are stuck. There is no way to win the argument. The response is either:
Child X: "Yes, you are the meanest mom."
Me, Meanest Mom: "I know, that is why you will not be doing X,Y, OR Z"

OR, it can go like this:
Child X: "No you're not, mom. You're really nice."
Me, The Complimented Meanest Mom: "Why, thank you."

Tee hee, it's diabolical.
Yesterday, however, I was the meanest mom in the whole world, ever.
Annika woke up saying she didn't feel well. She didn't want to go to primary. Now, in my defense, I hear this on a regular basis when she doesn't want to do something. I naturally brushed her off and told her to get her dress on and get out to the kitchen so I could do her hair. She obeyed, and returned with her prettiest dress on. I made her sit on the hard stool so I could get her hair out of her face and look nice for church. She had to sit there for about 15 minutes while I brushed, styled, and curled the ends. She kept begging to go and lay down to watch Veggie Tales (our daddy approved Sunday morning viewing). For those who know her, begging to watch TV is not altogether out of character either. But at this point, I began to wonder...
But it was time to go. I checked for fever--not a trace. I assured her that if she still felt ill after Sacrament Meeting we could go home.
She agreed to the plan and we headed out. Got there on time (yippee). Sat down. Everyone is mostly behaving (yahoo). We take the sacrament. Annika asks for her coloring book. A sign she is feeling okay, right? I hand it to her with the markers and then notice she has a strange look on her face. Uh-oh.
Then she starts to gag. Oh dear. I stupidly ask if she is going to throw up. She gives me a panicked look and nods.
I grab her hand, the other hand is still gripping the coloring book and rush out of the pew, down the aisle and to the bathroom. Fortunately, it is right outside the chapel and is a large family restroom. Unfortunately, it is locked. *%@#^! I realized the next closest bathroom is clear around the other side of the building. No time to get there!
I grabbed her arm, ran outside, found a sewer grate, held back the hair and the big fluffy dress, and Annika let 'er rip.
Poor girl. Time to go home.
The meanest mom in the whole wide world, ever, really.