Yesterday, driving 65 mph down the highway, five minutes from home, my tire blew out. I managed to pull over to the left “shoulder,” and then, after narrowly missing a few rear end collisions, hobbled my car over to the right shoulder where I was safer. Got the tire-changing service on the horn, and buckled in to wait it out. Boof hopped on the bus and headed our way, and we switched cars so I could take my badly shaken self home to drink and nurse all the what-if-fears that were racing in my mind.
I’ve had several accidents or narrow misses since Potamus was born, but none when he was in the car. To look in my rear view mirror and see the cars whizzing by and narrowly missing me, put so much in perspective.
I kept him home today. Partially due to logistics in getting my spare tire taken off and replaced, and trying to get him out to his daycare 30 minutes away by their dropoff deadline just would add more stress. So we hung out in the Les Schwab waiting, and when the 2.5 year old squirrelyness kicked in, we headed next door to the thrift store, where Potamus became enthralled with a new hat (he really is turning out to be a hat guy), and he got a scolding by a worker missing all her front teeth for picking “a girl’s hat.” She tried to convince him an ever-so-cool elmo visor was more boy appropriate, but he liked his southern bonnet much better thankyouverymuch.
My decision to keep him home today has turned out to be lovely. We napped, and watched some PBS, and he’s currently shouting for his dad in the backyard.
We did not buy that hat.