My head is still in vacation fog. So, as I was getting ready to take Mo to his first preschool class this week, I realized at the last minute that it actually started at 9 - I thought it started at 9:30.
So we rushed out of the house. On the drive across town I kept having visions that he was going to be terribly late for his first class - and that would make him shy and uncomfortable and give the teacher a bad impression of me, The Mom Who Was Late the Very First Day of Class.
But we actually made pretty good time on the belt line highway.
However, as we approached, I remembered that there's a weird little side street I need to take. It's very poorly marked and the last few times I've been there, I've missed the turn or turned too early and had to back-track.
"OK Boys," I announced. "We're running late, so Mommy needs to turn on the right street this time, not like all the other times."
Sure enough - bingo - I turned on the correct street.
"Woo hoo!" I shouted.
Mo was oddly quiet in the back seat. Could he be getting nervous for his class?
"Honey," I asked. "Did you hear what I said, I turned on the right street. We're not going to be late!"
"I know, Mom," he said. "I know you turned on the right street."
Like his Dad, he's good with directions. Has he known the correct turn-off the whole time?
"How did you know that was the right street?" I asked.
"Because Mom," he explained, "If you turned on the wrong street, you would have said 'shoot' or 'damn it.'"
11 months ago