I shared the following story with Stephanie yesterday evening. She asked if I was going to blog about it and I told her that no, I didn't dare, because I think I've given Child Protective Services enough public evidence as it is. However, upon further mental review, I've decided that I cannot let this incident go undocumented. So for those of you mistakenly thinking I'm some brilliant piece of work, the following true tale is for you.
In my defense, yesterday was a bit harried. After several errands and a quick potty break, I threw the kids in the car to head for the commissary before it got too late to get back and make dinner. Peanut was still sleeping in his carrier and I had a blanket covering the front so he'd be warm enough as it was a chilly day. Peawhistle was strapped in, playing with some toy.
I trucked on down the road to the base, but not before the guard at the gate looked through the back window of the van questioningly before letting me proceed. I parked in the parking lot of the commissary and hit both buttons that open PW's and Peanut's sliding doors. PW's door (on my side) opened, and Peanut's door closed. Yes, closed. I had driven five miles to the commissary with the van door open the whole way. No, I most certainly did NOT notice. I asked PW, "Peawhistle, has that door been open the entire time?" "Yes." "Why didn't you say something?!" I drove the whole way with the wind blowing through the van and me not even noticing it. And it's no wonder the guard gave my van a second look, probably wondering what the crap I was thinking. I'm relieved she didn't give it more thought at the time, because being stopped for that infraction would have been life-altering, I can tell you that.
I can't even begin to imagine how that looked to other drivers on the road. They were probably more surprised that there are still people out there who are not completely over John Mayer by now; I can't really blame them for that one as I can't believe I was listening to him again either, but there I was, van door open, blaring the self-absorbed likes of "Bigger Than My Body."
I'm very greatful Peanut's diaper bag, on the floor by the door, hadn't flown out along with the Baby Bjorn, both of which stayed safely inside the car. At least Peanut was strapped in pretty good and didn't notice a thing as he was still sleeping soundly when I got him out of the car.
So the next time you're tempted to think something you did was stupid, recall that I accomplished this minor feat in poor parenting. You're welcome.