I stop mid-sentence to shift my attention to my youngest.
“I’m not buckled,” she calmly states.
My husband swiftly pulls over on Wisconsin Avenue in downtown Milwaukee. I jump out, buckle her, and grab her face to give her a tender kiss.
She shakes her head, “Silly, mommy. Silly, daddy. You forgot to buckle me.”
Busted! Take me out of the running for Mommy of the Year. I thought my husband buckled her when put her in the back seat. He thought I did it, before I jumped in the passenger seat. We were both busy packing the car from our two-day stay in Milwaukee – tossing in a pile of dresses, a tux, lone shoes, and stray GoGo squeeZ from his brother’s wedding weekend.
Still. This isn’t the ’80s.
My brother, sister and I rolled around the “way back” of our van, napping on the couch. I sat in the pop-up seat in the back of my neighbor’s woody station wagon on multiple occasions. Their oldest daughter and I sat facing each other without seat belts. When the car sped up or her mom slammed on the brakes, we were hurled toward the back. Giggling all the while.
I did a little sign of the cross, and thanked my lucky stars that we made it the two blocks accident free.
What is your Mom (or dad) of the Year moment?
Ciao for now.
(That’s me on the right in the picture, sucking my thumb – like I did until I was 8).