No further questions.. I SAID...

After a fairly lazy morning of reading my novel in bed while Toby played with Starfall (how I love thee, Starfall), I received a phone call from our friend Liz. She was having chest pains and was headed in to the ER at the urging of her doctor. She is single, and was mostly letting us know because single people tend to alarm all their friends by not being around and then we all think maybe they died, and we're going to have to go break in the door and find out.

So anyways, we did some kid wrangling and decided me and Toby would head down to the ER to make sure Liz was okay and keep her company and such. I usually take Toby because he follows commands pretty well when we're out in public, and Richy and Bean follow commands pretty well when we're at home. Not so much the vicey-versy.

I plugged the address into the ol' GPS and we set off. Toby has been a backseat driver since he was 1 or so, and the GPS has made it way, way worse. "Bear left", says the aristocratic GPS man. "BEAR LEFT!! MOMMY! BEAR LEFT! ARE YOU BEARING LEFT?"

"Exit left in 400 yards", he says.

"IS IT FORHUNNER ARDS? MOMMY! YOU HAVE TO EXIT! IS THIS THE ROAD? DID WE EXIT? I SAW A STOP SIGN!"

I assure him that I can hear the man, and I am doing what he says. Toby's not buying it. "Is this the hopsital? You have to turn here... we have reached our DET SIN ATION!"

Today, I pulled in the ER parking garage, which is evidently only for police and ambulances. The wounded have to park down the street and carry their appendages a half mile, I guess.

I try to steer clear of the police, due to an expired registration, so I was sweating it a little as I drove past 3 or 4 bored cops just looking for trouble, i.e., Me.

"What those policemans doing? Why aren't you parking? This is a parking garage. You passed up the hopsital. YOU PASSED UP THE HOPSITAL."

"I know, Toby, I just need to.... I have to find somewhere to park..." as I nearly turn the wrong way on a one-way street.

"You can park there, Mommy. You passed it up."

"I can't park there, it's only for ambulances."

"It's only for ambulances? Why it's only for ambulances? Why you driving far far away? You have reached your det sin ation. Bear left. Are you turning right? Why you don't want any more questions? Are you a little bit lost? Can you park here? Where is the hopsital? Does Liz have a ouchie? Where is her ouchie? Where is the doctor? Is Liz getting a toy from Old Mcdonald's? Are you parking? Are you parking? Why you stopping? Can we park here?"

I pull up to a line of parking meters, and a sign that says 3 hour parking M-F. Does that mean it's free those days? I sit for a minute, trying to decide what to do.

"Why we waiting? Is this parking? Can we park here? What's that man doing? Why that machines have red signs? What are you doing with that money? Can I have that money?" as I feed the quarters into the meter.

We went in, asked after Liz and were denied entry to her room due to Toby not being 15 yet. If you ask me, he's pretty close. So we sat in the waiting area and I texted Liz while holding an ongoing press conference for Toby. She's okay, by the way, or at least it wasn't a heart attack, so that's good news.

I then tried to listen to Rush Limbaugh on the drive home, but Rush has some stiff competition in the backseat, so instead I took a pretty extensive quiz on IF Old MacDonald Haves a Farm was a daytime song, or a nighttime song, and then ABCs and then Twinkle twinkle little star, and then some heavy questioning on what were some other daytime songs.

I'm tired.