Sometimes, as wonderful as Parenting is, picking up the girls from school goes something like this:
Isabella (she’s 5): Daddy, where are we going?
Me: The grocery store.
Iz: Today, at PE, there was a ball…
Me: Hold on… There’s a red light. Gotta turn left. Please wait.
Iz: And, the ball bounced blah blah blah blah, then, I ran blah blah blah. And Sasha caught the ball….
Me: Sorry, Honey, trying to turn left against traffic. Looking for cars.
Iz: And, blah blah blah. Red ball, not Blue. But, it was Bennie’s ball, but not really, because it only bounced twice, not three times, in the Magic Square…
Me: Not listening.
Iz: But, in the Magic Square, only Blah blah blah. Get some lettuce.
Me: Seriously, Honey. Shhhh. Fighting traffic.
Iz: Then, Blah blah blah.
Me: Crap! We almost got T-Boned by a Dodge Durango at 45mph. Please! Stop talking!
Iz: And the lettuce.
Me: Yeah, I got it. Lettuce…