My inner Towanda almost came out last week.
Let me explain.
I picked up my 2 yr old from day care and was informed she did not take a nap. Well, I needed to remedy the situation since we had a late night ahead of us. I decided to drive around, ignoring her, while she fell asleep. I knew she was tired and just needed to be strapped down in order to rest.
For the last two weeks my daughter has insisted upon “Pop Pop” being played in the car. That’s her way of saying “Turn on the Mary Poppins soundtrack or heads will roll.” My boys have endured countless playings of “A Spoonful of Sugar,” and “Jolly Holiday.” They just may come to believe Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke are family members.
Truth be told though, nothing annoys me more than when I realize I am singing along with “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” and I actually dropped off all 3 kids fifteen minutes earlier.
So there we were. Driving and driving. It took twenty minutes and eight replays of “Feed the Birds,” but she finally fell asleep. Not wanting to wake her up I continued listening to “Pop Pop.” I determined it was a small price to pay in exchange for the precious nap time she desperately needed.
Four minutes after Caroline’s eyes closed I came to a stoplight. I waited patiently trying to mentally map out my next 30 minutes of driving before I would need to pick up her brother.
man on a motorcycle pulled up next to me. I noticed his lack of a helmet and was worrying about his safety… when he turned on me. Without warning he needlessly started revving his engine. LOUDLY. Not once. Not twice. But continued to rev it for the rest of the stoplight.
What’s he planning on doing? Racing the minivan?
The moment the light turned green, the Fonz took off, screeching and roaring down the road.
And then it happened.
A loud shrieking sound from the back seat. All parents know the particular cry I’m talking about. It is the cry that says, “I wasn’t ready to wake up! I’m still tired! Now I ‘m really pissed off because I’m strapped down in this seat crying! I haaaaaaaate you!”
My inner Towanda wanted to come out.
If not for the fact that I would have had to explain to my husband why the front of my minivan was smashed in and that he needed to pick me up from jail, I just might have gone after that motorcycle.