Today I was running a tad late to pick up the girls from preschool. Okay, really late. And I was speeding a little. Okay, a lot, I totally had the pedal to the metal. But I am really swell at being a speedy, yet safe driver, I have lots of experience!
Well to my dismay, a friendly Mission Viejo motorcycle cop was right there to witness the whole thing. He turned on his annoying lights and I could feel all the rubber-necks staring. I pulled over into a parking lot and he blocks me in. Really? Did he think I was going to try and escape or something??! Wearing his super cool shades and sweet helmet he asks "Do you know why I pulled you over."
OF COURSE I KNOW WHY!!!!!
I could barely open my mouth because what I really wanted to say was "Listen guy, I am in a hurry, so could you write the ticket and skip the lecture??" But I politely told him that my children were in preschool and I was running late on picking them up. . . He responded with "Well, I am sure they are safe with an adult Ms., but your speeding was not safe." BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. He made sure to take his precious time crossing his t's and dotting his i' on my perfect little ticket.
Now I am a mere 15 minutes late and bawling. I pick up my kids, who are waiting patiently in the office. The ladies in the office were sure to say "Oh, God bless you. I hope your day gets better." They made me feel a little better, but kind of silly at the same time. I told the girls why I was late, and smarty-pants Emma said "At least you didn't have to go to jail mom?" Indeed, it could have been worse!
So we went home and made some homemade lemonade. . . I know it's a little cliche, but at that point it was either lemonade or a margarita. Don't judge.
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