"Mommy, why are you in daddy's seat?"
"In case I have the move the car while we're waiting for daddy."
"Mommy, where's daddy?"
"He's in court and he'll be right back."
"Is daddy coming back?"
"Yes, as soon as he's finished with his case, he'll be right back."
"Mommy, why are you in daddy's seat?"
"We're parked in a 3 minute park zone, if the police comes up and tells us to move the car, I have to move the car. I can't move the car without being in daddy's seat because that's the driver's seat."
"Mommy, is that a police car?"
"No."
"Mommy, what's daddy doing?"
"In court."
"Mommy, is daddy in court?"
"Aaaaaaaaaaaah," says my 1 year old.
"Mommy, are you happy?"
"Yes" through gritted teeth sounds like "Yeesh."
"I love you mommy."
"I love you too."
I look into the rear view mirror at my 4 year old. I see a big head perched precariously atop a small frail frame. My heart crumbles.
A homeless man solomnly pushes his shopping cart across the street. I know he reeks of urine because I've passed him by, hundreds of times on the way to court. My children remain in the safe confines of our air conditioned car. Blissfully ignorant of his somber presence.
June 13, 2007
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