My son and I had enjoyed a very warm evening at the local water park, Raging Waters. It was always outstanding walking through the water park with my five-year old son as two great bare-chested men of the world donning only swim trunks and water shoes.
On a certain fine warm evening we exited the park and got settled in the car. I backed up the vehicle, put it back in Drive ready to make tracks and head home, but there was a car in front of me just sitting there doing nothing but blocking the way. No sweat, it’s summer and we’ve nothing but time, I’ll wait until the other driver gathers themself and moves out of the way. And we waited. And waited. Until finally, I don’t know, maybe a mere 30 seconds, my impatience got the best of me. Forgetting that the boy was in the back seat, I spoke in a harsh manner.
“Come on you clown,” I said exasperated and louder than necessary directing my angst to the driver in front of me.
From the back seat in the most pleasant voice, “Where’s the clown, daddy?”
In my impatience I had forgotten that there was precious cargo in the backseat. I was happy that I didn’t foul mouth it.