As I was driving Sissy to her softball practice, we were listening to a “That Chick Be CRAZY” segment on the radio.  One caller was talking about that phrase: Don’t step on a crack or you’ll break your mother’s back.  Well it turns out the caller DID break her mother’s back.  By accidentally running her over with the family car!!!!

Whaaaaaaa??  That’s AWFUL.

But the story perked Sissy right up and made her start scrutinizing the car control panel as we’re driving along.  What exactly are you planning, Sweetie?

Her: Why does the speed thing go up to 140 miles per hour if you never GO 140 miles per hour?

Me: Good question.  But how do you know I DON’T go 140 miles per hour?!

Her: Mom!

Me: Ok, ok.  I don’t necessarily go 140 miles per hour.  But it’s there so that I have a good chance of outrunning the mafia if they’re ever after me.

Her: Mom! pause 2…3…4…Really??

Me: No, babe.  Because of the mafia’s actually after me, I’m hosed.

Her: Why?  Is the mafia really fast?!

Me: It’s not that they’re necessarily fast.  It’s more that if I’m trying to outrun the mafia in a 12-year-old minivan, I’ve got WAY more problems than just car speed.

Her: Oh, ok.  But I didn’t think it was fair that girl’s mom didn’t let her drive again until she was eighteen.

Me: The girl who broke her mother’s back?  By running her over with a car??  You think not letting her drive for a while after that was too harsh of a punishment?!?

Her: No.  Of course not.  It’s just that the mom lived.  It’s not like she died or anything.  But how do you even run someone over and they live?

[At this point, both of us are looking at the undercarriages of cars in front of us in traffic.]

Me: I don’t know.  ‘Cause some of that stuff hangs pretty low.  But I guess if the person falls down lengthwise so they’re in the center of all four wheels, so that the wheels don’t run them over but go on either side of them, then maybe they just get a broken back.

Her: You’re right, some of that stuff DOES hang pretty low.  [Sizing me up out of the corner of her eye.]  So you’d probably have to be pretty skinny to live through that.

Me: Yep, probably pretty skinny.  So don’t ever run me over and we’ll be fine and you can drive at the normal age.  Ok?

Her: Ok.

Me: Oh, and don’t ever get involved with the mafia.  That’s bad news.  ‘K?

Her: ‘K.