Maj and I are out running an errand at night in the rain. I am sure I say things during this drive, but what I remember is Maj’s side of the conversation. Sigh.
“Mother, what’s that word for when your tires lose contact with the ground and you float on the water? Hydrocoptering? Is that right? That doesn’t sound right. Whatever. Keep the tires on the road, Mother.”
“Someone needs to let the person who is apparently not you know that we need new windshield wipers. Let me just text Daddy that we are driving blind.”
“We are too close to that truck!”
“WE ARE TOO CLOSE TO THE TRUCK!”
“Mother, I am going to call that number on the back of that truck and report that we are driving behind a perfectly well-behaved truck and we are maniacs!”
“Yes, I know that’s not what the number is for, but someone needs to know that I am trapped with a lunatic!”
“Laughing your evil laugh does NOT improve the situation, Mother! Stop that right this instant!”
“Great . . . you missed the exit.”
“What do you mean you are going a different way? That’s the way Daddy goes. That’s the right way. There are no willy-nilly different ways. We are lost! We are doomed!”
“Yes, I know you have the GPS turned on. I was being dramatic.”
“Right, because it’s me making this trip tense. Yeah, that makes so much sense, Mother.”
“I am going to turn the music up, because I cannot hear it over the rain.”
“YES, I DO HAVE TO HAVE IT TURNED THIS LOUD!”
“Fine, are you happy now? I turned it down. Now it just sounds like we are at a party, but we have been forced to stand next to a waterfall for the entire evening. WHOOOOSH! WHOOOOSH! WHOOOSH!”
“Yes, this is a fabulous party! I know I am always in a celebration kind of mood when I put my face way low and next to the toilet as I flush. Listen to the music! WHOOOSH! WHOOOOSH! WHOOOSH!”
“Mother, you do not even need to tell me that driving in the car with you is not a party, because I am aware. I SAID I AM AWARE OF THE UNPARTY, MOTHER!”
“When you asked me to come on this trip, I assumed you realized that MAJ WOULD BE ON THIS TRIP. This is how I always am, Mother.”
“As noisy as the rain is, I heard that sigh, Mother. Sarcasm adds volume.”
“I SAID SARCASM ADDS VOLUME.”
“Very funny, Mother.”
“Mother, you are turning too early. This is the wrong parking lot.”
“Nope. You’re wrong. This parking lot does not connect to the one you want. You have to go back out and around.”
“Fine. Don’t believe me. You are very stubborn for a woman without a clue.”
“HA! I told you so. Look . . . we can see the parking lot we want from where we are, but we cannot get to it. Not unless you are planning on driving over those bushes and through that ditch.”
“AIIIEIEIEIEIEEE! What are you doing? We will be bush-killed in a ditch!”
“What? Of course I knew you were joking. I am not an idiot.”
“I am texting Daddy that you almost bushed me into a ravine.”
“What? Ravine is a word, Mother.”
“OK, fine. I won’t text Daddy. Although how you have fooled him for all these years into thinking that you are competent, I do not even know.”
“WHAT ABOUT THAT STATEMENT WOULD MAKE YOU SO ANGRY? AM I NOT ALLOWED TO EXPRESS HONEST AND SIMPLE PUZZLEMENT?”
“Yay for finding the turn into the correct parking lot!”
“No, that was not sarcasm. That was simple genuine joy. I am so proud of you!”
“OK, maybe a little sarcasm.”
“WE ARE GOING THE WRONG WAY DOWN THIS AISLE! WE WILL BE KILLED!”
“WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU MEAN THAT THE ARROWS ON THE PARKING LOT GROUND ARE JUST GUIDELINES? LOOK AT THE PERSON COMING TOWARD US . . . DOES HIS FACE LOOK LIKE YOU HAVE VIOLATED A MERE GUIDELINE?”
“I will do an apology wave for you, Mother. You are clearly in the wrong, and I cannot have that angry man thinking that I am just oblivious to your misbehavior.”
“OH MY GOD! NOW YOU ARE GOING THE WRONG WAY DOWN THIS AISLE AS WELL! What is wrong with you? Arrows are not complicated, Mother! They point the way!”
“ARROWS POINT THE WAY!”
“Don’t try to tell me the rain kept you from seeing the arrows. I see the arrows. Everyone else sees the arrows. You are just being a pointing rebel for no good reason. Arrows are meant to make everyone’s life easier, Mother.”
“Arrows are for stupid people? Is that what you just said? Know who says things like that? People who can’t figure out which end of the arrow does the pointing job, that’s who.”
“Just saying.”
“And now you have backward-followed the arrows into a dead end . . . This is why Daddy doesn’t let you drive.”
“Why are you so crabby?”
“We should have brought an umbrella. Bringing an umbrella is the sort of planning thing that a lot of kids would just assume their mother would remember to do.”
“No, that was not rude, Mother. I have learned to assume the opposite.”
“What do you mean, what do I mean? I mean that I have learned to assume that you will be unprepared.”
“Well, let me just ask you . . . it is pouring rain. Do you have an umbrella?”
“No, I do not have an umbrella. But then . . . I am not actually the mother in this situation.”
“Why are you always so crabby? All I am saying is that if you asked 100 people, 99 of them would guess that the girl and her mother getting out of the minivan in the pouring rain will soon be sheltered by an umbrella that the mother has remembered to bring.”
“HOW IS THAT SMARTY-PANTSY? I SPEAK THE TRUTH!”
“What? What do you mean you love that 100th person?”
“Oh, because that person did not assume you would have an umbrella?”
“You do know that 100th person is me, right?”
“What? I love you too.”
“Mother, on the way home can we drive Daddy’s way so we don’t get lost?”
“Seriously? How is that annoying?”
“You are a difficult woman.”
“Mother, you are difficult. Own yourself.”
“I own the Maj, mother. No one can say that I do not own the Maj.”
“So why are we here, anyway? What was so important we had to risk death by rainage?”
“Popcorn? I know you did not just say popcorn.”
“I despair, Mother.”
“I despair.”
