So, we're getting ready to go somewhere today and Steve is supposed to be putting the kids in their carseats. But he seems to do it really fast, so I ask him, "Are the kids in the car already?"
He says, "No, they're in the garage."
And I say, "That's not OK." Cause Lily is always getting into trouble in the garage. Playing under the cars. Climbing up toward the gardening shears. That sort of thing.
Steve just goes toward the bathroom, ignoring me.
Now, you should know that I am half naked right then. Steve was supposed to be getting the kids in the car while I got my pants on. But: no kids in the car and no pants on.
I'm thinking to myself, "Well, they've only been alone in the garage for a few seconds. I have time to put my pants on before I go to check on them."
But the funny thing is, even as I am thinking this, my body is moving. Fast. Right toward the garage. (Holy Ghost? Mother's instincts? Definitely, definitely *something.*)
I get to the garage and I find that Sam has opened the garage door.
Lily is running and she is *in* the street, running straight for a car that is going *fast* and doesn't seem to be slowing down. We live on a busy street. The speed limit is like 35, though everyone seems to go about 45, so this scenario is exactly the nightmare that I have over and over.
So, now I'm sprinting. I'm jumping over Sam. Over stuff. I don't think I've ever moved so fast in my entire life. I'm screaming Lily's name. And remember, I don't have any pants on.
I jump into the middle of the street just in time to snatch Lily from right in front of that speeding car.
It was like something you'd see on a movie.
I have absolutely no freaking idea how I'm going to keep this kid alive.