backseat driver

My New Backseat Driver

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