Airhead

This is where I park my minivan, Betsy, every day. Right here in the driveway. Yesterday afternoon I walked out to get in my car to pick up my kids from Middle School. Only, this is what greeted me. No car. Before you ask if it was stolen let me assure you that it wasn’t.

I met my friend, Anna, at the Middle School in the morning after we dropped off our kids. Anna and I go to an exercise class together most mornings and it’s better to take one car instead of two, right? After the class we played hookey from our motherly cares and saw Ironman 3 in all our sweaty, stinky glory. We were so busy talking afterwards that she drove me home and I completely forgot about my car.

Until the afternoon when I went outside and there it wasn’t. Mister’s old truck was in the driveway so I jumped in with the babies and made it over to pick up the middles in time. I drove up and found them milling around Betsy peering in the windows and trying to open the doors. They were thoroughly perplexed. “What happened? Where were you? Is the car broken?” Finn asked.

No, Finn, the only thing broken around here is my brain.

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