So I am napping on the couch a short while ago when my teenage daughter wakes me up. Seems the light fixture in her closet was having a relationship issue with the ceiling and they broke up. The light seems to want to get back together as it is still hanging around. Now these were her exact words and not mine. Somehow the fixture, after 15 years about, turned a bit and slid through the mounting screws. Shes been re-arranging in there all day so I don’t know how she bumped it. I disabled it and will get fix it on my day off tomorrow.
Good luck, sir.
We can assume that her engineering skills are 0, and you are Dad. You can fix this, and this will be an archytypical moment in her consciousness. I suggest elegantly resolving everything, leaving nothing to chance, physically proving that you are the authority, moral, just, in control and most importantly, on her side. Fix the light; fix the world.
She’s 16. I am allowed to exist in her world for three things. One - fix stuff. Two - wallet. Three - truck keys. 
Make her work for all 3. 
Reminds me of something that happened a few years back. I’m sitting on the couch minding my own business when suddenly without warning the ceiling fan/light fixture (which was not running) I had installed maybe 15 years ago falls. But not straight down, because it was still attached to the wiring, which ripped a channel through the sheetrock of the ceiling, swung in my direction and smacked me in the face.
I’m gonna need the youtube video for that one.
By the time I was 16, my Dad had already and much to his surprise discovered I had an interest in being able to use small power tools (if whatever I need doing requires a circular saw, I’ll happily call someone who already owns one). Next time he broke out the toolbox, he didn’t just ask me to pass this tool or that other one, but actually started teaching me.
Maybe it’s time to teach Mz Sixteen how to use a screwdriver.
She’s already had a shop class and built a clock. And a metals class where she formed and welded her own toolbox. Also has helped her brothers assemble furniture. Dealing with fragile insulation on 50-60 year old wiring in the house in an entirely different level for a novice. I was also barely awake at the time and would not have been very patient with her or the fixture.
The original point wasn’t her plea for help but the language she used was hilarious. Mrs San was in stitches.
She has; after three boys she’s my only daughter. She did that by making a different choice during the gender selection coin toss.