Me: “Uh oh.”
Sophie: “What?”
Me: “I’m going the wrong way.”
Sophie: “What do you mean you’re going the wrong way?”
Me: “I’m lost.”
Sophie: “You’re lost?”
Me: “Yes.”
Sophie: “Why didn’t you go back the way we came?”
Me: “I missed my turn.”
Sophie: “What does ‘turn’ mean?”
Me: “You know. Right or left. I went straight when I should have turned.”
Sophie: “So why didn’t you just turn around and go back?”
Me: “Because now I’m downtown and dealing with one-way streets.”
Sophie: “Are we still lost?”
Me: “Yes.”
Sophie: “Boys, Mommy is lost.”
Me: “It’s OK, Sophie. You don’t need to tell them that.”
Sophie: “This does not look like our house [referring to a skyscraper].”
Me: “No. I’m still trying to find the road back to our house.”
Sophie: “She [referring to my Garmin, which I’ve since turned on] said to turn left, Mommy. You should have turned there.”
Me: “DANG IT!”
Sophie: “Are we still lost?”
Me: “Yes.”
Sophie: “How will we get home?”
Me: “We’ll figure it out.”
Sophie: “This is taking a long time.”
[blessed silence for a few minutes]
Sophie: “This doesn’t look like our house, either.”
Me: “I know where I am now. We’re on 471.”
Sophie: “What’s 471?”
Me: “The way home.”
Sophie: “Are you sure?”
“Back seat drivers don’t know the feel of the wheel
but they sho’ know how to make a fuss.” —Bob Dylan