Yesterday Emma, my 11 year old, and I were running errands and a guy on a bicycle drifted in front of my car. I slammed on the brakes and did some modified cursing, which I do when the kids are around.
"You! You! - you cupcake eater you! What is WRONG with you!"
"He can't ride on the sidewalk, Mom," Emma explained.
"Well, he can't ride in front of me. Not if he wants to live."
She frowned at me. "Are you going to kill him?"
"Not on purpose."
I sighed, eased back in my seat, and watched him, the old man drifting in and out of my lane and the one to the left, making it impossible for me to pass him. I couldn't even put my foot on he accelator. I would have honked, but my turn was coming up anyway. I decided that if he was turning right as well I'd let him have it with the horn. And then he'd know. He'd know that he was wrong to pull out in front of me and then go slow because I'd let with one good, smug honk.
But he didn't turn, and I felt a little disappointed because I enjoy honking in indignation, so I vented instead.
"Why??" I asked, making it over-the-top-dramatic by taking a hand off the steering wheel to shake a fist at heaven. "Why was he in my way?"
"I told you because he couldn't ride on the sidewalk," Emma said.
"Yes but why here, why now? Why has fate chosen to wheel him out in front of MY car? In MY path? Why me, Emma, WHY??"
Emma reflected on this. Then she said, "Because God doesn't like the 'r' in your last name."
"This is why He punishes me with an old man on a bike?"
"....I like your theological reasoning."
And this is me and Emma's relationship.