Being Angelenos, we're in the car kind of a lot. I try to walk as much as possible, and sometimes days go by without having to saddle-up the wagonista, but lately, we've been in the car a lot. Holiday shopping aside, everywhere is so festive this time of year, not to mention the fact that it's actually cold here right now. Like, in the low 60s by day which is so much fun and also, hilarious, because the minute the temperature drops below 65, fur-lined hunting caps and parkas come out like nobodies business. And I'm just as guilty of this, lemme tell you. I collect coats like most women collect shoes. I would bet I have a good dozen vintage coats I've never worn before... Which is sad. And has nothing to do with Road Rage.  But being in the car quite often these days, does. So let me get back to business, here: Being in the car means enduring assholes on the go means getting a little peeved behind the wheel means the occasional cuss word or angry remark. 

"Oh, Shit!" I said, several mornings ago on our way to Archer's preschool (he starts in January but we've been doing practice-runs twice a week in the mornings so he can acclimate and I can feel comfortable with the whole sending-my-baby-to-preschool thing.)

I thought nothing of it until... "Oooh! Shit!" 

I did what I have been advised to do by parent-friends with similar potty-mouths. I ignored it. Acted like "shit" was no big deal.  Turned up the music. Offered Archer a cracker. Dum-di-dum-dum, nothing to hear, here!

Archer: listening. Always listening...

And then the next day, frustrated by the car in front of me, it's driver text-messaging when she should have been driving...

"GO! You stupid..."

"Go! YOU! TOO-tid!"

"Archer!"

I had made the mistake of acknowledging him and then...

"GO TOO-TID! Ahahahahaha! GO TOO-TID! GO-TOO-TID!" At one point he was screaming "Go, Too-tid!" so loud the entire restaurant we were stopped in front of turned from their outdoor seating to flash us questioning stares. And we were in the car! With the windows up! 

Oh. My. God. I wanted to cry. Nothing like a child to hold up the mirror and prove what an asshole butthole I can be behind the wheel.

I've been known to honk, flip middle fingers, tell people to "learn how to drive, bleepity-bleep-bleep!"

So here I am! Stating on the record that starting now, I'm going to make every attempt to slow down and calm down and not curse out strangers for cutting me off or forgetting their turn signals. I'm going the pacifist route. I'm going to try. 

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