Today was Biopsy Day for Mom up in Georgia, so Zoe, Lila and I were shoehorned into the front cab of my ol’ red F150 truck. Old red Ford trucks were not built with car seats for children and infants in mind. We were driving along in the quiet predawn when Zoe suddenly started screaming loudly. It was the sort of screech that I would let out if a giant tarantula started tap dancing on my nose, or a snake decided to take up habitation in my pants leg. I nearly hit the roof of the truck. I jumped, started looking around wildly for cobras or zombies, and yelled “What? WHAT IS IT?”
Zoe sobbed “There’s a FWY in the TRUCK!”
What? Breathebreathebreathe. Count to 10. Count to 25. Count down from 100 using serial sevens. Reflect that this is a test used to detect mental impairment and what does it say about my marbles or lack of them that I can’t do serial sevens while driving down the road in the dark while a preschooler is screaming and scaring the baby? (Ha ha, I lied. I can’t do them in the daylight when there’s no noise outside, either. Or maybe I just won’t.) Wonder if this is a reflective question like I learned about in psychology years ago. Remember that I really don’t remember crap about most of my college classes and that they were, for the most part, a waste of money and time that I will never get back again. Get depressed all over again. Ask about the fly.
“Uh, I don’t see any fly! Where is it?”
It’s right THERE, MeeMaw! It’s on the window, and it’s going to get me or baby Lila!”
A small mosquito was buzzing haplessly against the windshield.
“Uh, this is the fly?” I asked, pointing at it.
“YES!” she sobbed.
“Okay, MeeMaw will kill him for you!” I told her, and squished the mosquito on the INSIDE of my windshield. Yeah, that left a mark, but she stopped being totally freaked out about it. On the other hand, if the Supreme Being is in Mosquito form, I’m in deep shit.