baby, you can drive my car
(About a week ago.)
“Remember when going 25 freaked me out?”
“Yes,” I answer, recalling Kristina’s first miles behind the wheel, her body rigid with concentration. Her voice snaps me back to the present.
“Now it just pisses me off.”
(Two days ago.)
On our way home from Kristina’s school, we pass someone going well over the speed limit in a 25 mph residential neighbourhood.
I interrupt what I am saying to look at the other car and call out, “Too fast!” (Yes, I know – the windows are closed and they cannot hear me – how impotent am I?)
Miss K also looks over, adds in a small voice, “jerk.”
I remind Kristina of her earlier statement. She backpedals. “I was just noticing how much more comfortable I am. I don’t speed, Mama. Ever.”
And then we carry on with our conversation.
I find these moments terribly amusing.
listening to: Trace Adkins, Chrome