Yesterday Elijah and I headed to the expensive hippie grocery store to see just how expensive red snapper can be. If you guessed $22 you’d be right. I like the hippie grocery store because you can sing at the top of your lungs things like, “We’re buying ginger, ginger ginger” and no one carts you off to the looney bin.
After we filled our cart and wowed the check out lady with just how grabby a toddler can be, we jumped into the Subaru and raced for home.
As we cruised up Church street business district, I felt a rush of wind and the distinct smell of a future blog entry unfolding before my eyes. Elijah had reached over and opened his car door, which hung wide open.
Thankfully, we had a two things going for us.
First, Eli was buckled into his car seat. So unless suddenly figured out a fastening system that continually baffles his parents, he was safe-ish.
Second, I am a notoriously slow driver. Please do not tell my sports car client, but I am content with allowing old women with two broken legs blow by me in their little motorized carts. Whenever Diana complains I say, “25 is how I stay alive!”
So I pulled over and shut the door and admonished my son. “Do not do that buddy. It’s very dangerous.” Elijah looked at me with an expression that clearly said, “Oh, this? The door open? That wasn’t me. Must have been Grover.”
We got home and I loudly proclaimed Eli’s new naughtiness to Diana, who told me that was way old news.
1 comment:
activate the child safety lock, inside the door. For peace of mind, if for nothing else. :)
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