“He came in like a wrecking ball,” Olivia sang, loudly, over the wreckage.
“Is now really the time?” Her mother looked at the piece of debris in her hand, then placed it back on the ground.
Olivia jumped from one drywall-mountain to another. “What else can I do? Lift up our destroyed house piece by piece? Not going to change anything. Plus, he came in like a wreeecking ball!”
“Well, you are certainly not mentally traumatized. Upside of having a teenager.”
“Why would I be traumatized? You made it, I made it, Miley Cyrus made it. That’s all that matters.”