Mom2Mom, April '12
“No, I'm fine…go ahead and sit up front with your student driver,” I said to Scott as we got into the car with our 16-year-old.
“You hate riding in the backseat,” my husband said, giving me a moment to change my mind.
“On long trips,” I explained, “but not running errands around town.”
My husband and Sky shot sideways glances at each other. I could tell they didn't believe I could really ride in the backseat.
“Careful, honey! You're about to…”
“She's fine,” Scott interrupted. Annoyed.
“Do you mind turning the air on a little bit?” I politely asked.
It was getting stuffy inside that car. Scott messed with the controls, but at the rate he was going, we'd be at our destination before cool air got to the backseat.
“Can you just switch it to rear seat control?” I politely suggested.
He complied and everyone was happy… for about 90 seconds.
“Where is my phone? Sky, you had my phone in the kitchen.”
“Mom, I gave it to you!”
“Did you put it in my purse?”
“No!! I handed it to you. I put it in your hand.”
“What? You know I was carrying lots of other stuff. Turn right up here.”
Sky pulled into the parking lot and I hopped out at the bakery. When I came out five minutes later, Scott was in the back and the driver's seat was empty.
“I thought you wanted to drive, Sky.”
“No m'am… Dad and I think we'd be much happier if you drive. It's all yours.”
No sooner had I gotten into mad Washington Road traffic, than I heard a strange, slow, deep mumbling coming from the backseat.
“I'M DYING BACK HERE…GIVE ME AIR,” the Darth Vader voice demanded.
Sky burst out laughing.
“I NEED MY PHONE…WHO HAS MY PHONE?” the horrible voice moaned.
Sky was in tears at this point.
“I CAN'T BREATHE, GIVE ME MY PHONE!” the voice continued, no doubt pleased that I was laughing so hard I almost ran off the road.
OK, family, I get it: You all think I'm a control freak. (I'LL TRY TO CHILL… REALLY!)
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