You put your finger where?

Last night, after dinner and all that jazz, I'm trying to get ready for work. Kiddo is happily ensconced in the middle of my bed watching bugs bunny movies and sucking her fingers, sniffing her boo's paw, whatever. Or at least I think she is. The next thing I know, mid mascara and all, she is howling like death is eminent. I run into the bedroom and what do I see? She has taken my hot pink water bottle, striped the straw out of the straw hole, finished my drink and has her middle finger stuck in the straw hole. Poor thing cannot get her finger back out to save her life and oh yes, the panic has set in. So I try to gently remove it... no dice. I unscrew the bottle from the top to make it lighter and less cumbersome and she thinks I'm trying to chop off her fingers. She won't stop screaming either. So I go find the Dad, he comes running and it takes all three of us, ice, vegetable oil, twisting and tugging to finally get the thing off her poor finger. And it takes off a little bit of skin with it. So yes there's a little blood, some antibiotics and a band aid. And I, the mom, have finally gotten to the point that minor childhood accidents (or stupidity) are no longer traumatic for me. I couldn't stop laughing at her. So all bandaged up, she's wandering around the house giving everyone (including feline and k9 occupants) the finger and proclaiming that she'll never ever again be able to play with any of her toys because her finger shall surely shrivel and fall off by morning... .and then something about her not being special anymore. She is now the official president of the kindergarten drama queen club. Omg... it was hysterical.