I drove Teddy to AFL training tonight. He could take the bus to the park but it gets dark very early now and my Spidey-Mom senses always tingle a bit at the thought of him on public transportation at night. It doesn't really make a whole lot of sense since its still at 6:00 at night and not 3 in the morning. Fortunately I've found that being a mom means that I don't have to justify my whacko mood swings to anyone. No bus at night. The end.
Connor and Tessi are still sick so I planned to just drop Himself off and head back home. Normally we pull up and the girls run around for a few minutes until Ted meets us there and he drives them home. I stay until training is over. Honestly, I like this part because sometimes one my friends is there and we have a nice chat or I sit in the car in quiet. Either works out to be a fab way to spend 90 minutes as far as I'm concerned.
Tonight though there is none of that as I have to get the girls back home. Not a real problem, just not ideal. I pull away from my drive way and start heading up the street when I notice something black and moving right in front of me. I didn't have a lot of time to react appropriately but I think I handled myself with the decorum and grace befitting a woman of my station.
After screaming, (expletive!) (expletive!) (expletive!) "Move you stupid (expletive!)" I slammed the brakes and came to a quick stop a few feet before my almost victim. Our friendly neighborhood bush tailed possum. This guy is the size of a cat and either is stone deaf or he does.not.give.a.rat's.rearend. if a two-ton vehicle is barreling down upon him. It took about 5 seconds for him to finally turn and notice that the metal dragon was breathing on his tail feathers. Then he casually turned, and so help me God, flicked his tail at me and sauntered off the to side of the road and watched as I passed.
Big deal right? We all have near misses like that. Who needs to read about it? I will give you that, but I bet not too many of you have the Aussie branch of the "We Wish We Were PETA and We Care About All Cute Fuzzy Animals Society" riding in the back of your car.
"What was that Mummy?" "What's wrong Mummy, why are you swearing again?" "Nothing girls. I thought I was going to hit something but I didn't" I said wearily, knowing full damn well this wasn't going to be the end of it. "Oh no! What did you hit?! Did you kill it?" "I DIDN'T hit it. I stopped. Everything is fine." Connor persists, "But what was it?" Sigh, seeing that there is no hope, I tell her that it was a possum, it was a very big possum.
A silent pause greets me for a few seconds. In my rookie days I would have taken this quiet for acceptance and moving onto new topic. I have learned in the past few years though, that with Connor this means she is choosing a new line of attack.
"Are you sure it was a possum?" She says, "How can you be sure? It's dark and hard to see." I throw back immediately, "Connor, I looked right at it. It was the size of a cat, I saw the damn thing and it was a possum that I saw and did not hit it!"
See in my state of annoyance I make a classic blunder. I gave Connor just the ammunition she needed to launch a full on verbal offensive. I said the words cat and hit in the same sentence. I know I'm doomed the moment the words leave my mouth. It's all over but the crying now. I grip the steering wheel tighter and wait for it to hit me.
"Ohmygod.itwasacat.iknowitwas.areyousureyoudidnthitthwtpoorcat?whatifyoukilledit?poorkitty.wehavetogobackandsaverhecat.inmywarriorcatsbookspoorcatsdieallrhetimevecauseofterriblecars"
I spent the remainder of the six minute drive to AFL training explaining repeatedly how not only was it not a cat, but that I actually did not hit it. There was no earth shatterimg kaboom, so to speak. Teddy does his best to diffuse the situation by asking me if I have ever hit anything with my car. As I'm trying to calm Connor about the poor battered kitten she is envisioning I'm trying to remember if I have killed anything. A few close calls but I can't think of anything that I permenantly retired.
Of course that sets Connor off again. "Near misses? What does that mean?" I explained that it meant just what happened, I almost hit something but I missed. "Mummy" she rather crisply adds, "Isn't that a near hit?"
Grrrrrr, YES CONNOR. Now is the perfect time to argue with me about the social nuances of word meanings. It's like a clean, less drug-using version of George Carlin has been reincarnated in her and she is using his word play skill against me.
Tessi, who has oddly been silent pipes in with, "Don't yell at Mummy! It was an accident, she didn't mean to kill the cat!"
What?! Um, thanks for the support Chica but 1. It wasn't a cat and 2. I didn't even hit it, let alone kill it! My hero Teddy comes back with,"So have you even SEEN anything hit by a car?"
My glare of hatred is so intense it could be seen even in the dark. Since he is my offspring though, it just made him giggle. Oh sorry, manly men don't giggle, he snorted with derision.
I managed to get him to the park and return us home without killing any more poor orphan one-eyed kittens traveling uphill in snow both ways. Ted was home and working on dinner. I should have stayed to help him with the girls I know but I left right away and here I am sitting at the park in silence finishing out the rest of the 90 minutes. As I left my not-so-dear friend the possum was still anyhangin out on the side of road. His tail wasn't flicking at me but I'm not exaggerating when I say I think I heard him snicker me.
For a brief moment I thought about running over his furry butt. At least then I would be guilty of what I had been defending myself against. However I kept control and didn't. I think that makes me an honorary member of PETA. I think though that I might start keeping a small squirt gun in my car for the next creature that doesn't move out of my way right off.
Either that or use on the kid screaming at me for the "near miss" or "near hit".
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