So it's been a while. Since my blog, I finished my marathon, deadened a previously beautiful toenail, lost a running partner to a bad knee, and been called the nastiest teacher in history. Can life get any better? Only on television.
So how do you explain "right turn on red" to a four-year-old kid? Lately, Grace has been so aware of Pennsylvania driving laws. "It's green. Go now!" "It's red. Stop, mom, now!" Every light, every day, every movement is monitored. Today I'm heading south on Cedar Crest, approaching Lower Macungie Road. The light is red. But, alas, there's a right lane that allows me to snake a right onto Lower Mac. I hardly have to stop. In fact, I can yield! Wheeee! But as I approach the light, my backseat driver yells: "Red light. Stop!" I tell her: I can go, right turn on red. "Stop, stop, stop!" She's shrieking. I keep scooting around the curve. It says "yield," I assure her. I can still go.
Honestly, I doubt this kid will ever exceed the speed limit. "I said stop. You hafta stop on red. Red means stop. Stop now." How in the world can I even rationalize this. I try to change the subject. Should we have pumpkin cookies at home?? She stops crying. "OK." Pumpkin cookies. I crest the hill. And I am the winner. I can yield when I want to. The truck plateaus at the top, and Keni sees the playground next to the turnpike. "I wanna go playground," Keni crows. "Maybe later. Ask Daddy." I put on the radio.
"Mommy?" Grace says.
"I told you you gotta stop on red."
I wonder if I should stop for a six-pack or ask Daddy.