You Is Kind . . .

Recently I was in carpool line, waiting to drop Jake off.  It seems the car in front of me had a reluctant little girl who didn't want to go to school that day.  As is protocol, you wait in line, you don't try to jump ahead, race around the car to move up to another drop off spot.  After all we are talking about kids, young children getting out of cars and walking into school.  Anything could happen - the kid could chase after their car, drop something, step off the curb . . . anything.

So, as reluctant Sally gets out of the car and the door shuts, off goes mom.  I start to move ahead and some dad in a small SUV whips around me, cuts me off all so he can unload his precious cargo a tad bit faster.  I, of course, throw up the "what the hell" hands.  You know, both arms fly up, no one finger more pointy than the other, palms to the sky.  He ignores me, which I am kinda grateful for after realizing we are in our school carpool and I have a very distinct vehicle, a black Hummer, the big kind. Hard to miss, easy to remember.