Antxiety Subbing for Mr. Friendly today, Mrs. Friendly.

Thank you. Today’s story concerns the ongoing search for a suitable education experience for our daughter Junior. Hubby and I, well mostly me, are searching for that school which, most importantly, will develop Junior’s social skills. Not that she is socially um, retarded. It is just that Friendly and I are the products of the crushing repression of the Catlick school experience and we would rather not have someone tell our little angel the following:
no prayers at night = Hell
miss Mass = Hell
swear = Hell
sex before marriage = Hell
think about Sex = Hell
meat on Friday = Hell
You get the idea. Additionally, we think it would be nice if Junior could avoid the dangers at the local public schools.

Junior is in two PreK programs now. Although both are run by churches, Presbyterian and Catlick, they downplay the more dogmatic Jesus stuff. Both schools fancy themselves as selective because, well, they are. The students’ families generally have money, both old and new. They too, are looking to keep their greatest achievements out of trouble.

The other day, the Presby school had a field trip to the Junior Museum. The museum is just that, a mini museum for mini people. They have small reptile shows, a planetarium, and some fun sciency stuff. You know, good wholesome 4 year old entertainment.

The last time this school had a field trip, I was doomed to ride with THE MOST NEGATIVE WOMAN ON THE FACE OF THIS EARTH. A brief synopsis of our ride to the pumpkin patch:
MOST NEGATIVE WOMAN: I don’t know why the teacher’s couldn’t hire a bus. I don’t know why I have to take time off from work. My husband is a bum. My car sucks. My older kids need special education programs (mostly for severe emotional disabilities due to me I am sure). This here daughter is not smart enough, and on and on.
ME: I say nothing. Too busy staring at her in horror.

Given this experience, there was no way I was chaperoning the museum visit without my car. I figured if I didn’t sign up to be a driver, I could show up at school and take Junior to the museum alone. Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men. It did not work out as I had hoped.

Before the big trip, I get a call from, fake name time, Ezekiel’s mom. Sarah has become a friend of mine and Ezekiel and Junior mostly play nice. She wants to know how I plan to get to the museum. I tell her my ingenious plan. A light bulb goes off over her head and she asks she if Zeke and she may tag along. I reluctantly say ok. As soon as I can get to my phone, I tell Friendly that these other moms are ruining my life.

Anyhoo the big day arrives. Out in the school parking lot, Sarah puts Zeke’s car seat into my car, hands him a cup of snacks (junk) and we are off. The only problem en route occurs when Sarah attempts to pass a CapriSun juice back to Zeke. I am a reasonable woman but I must draw the line somewhere. I don’t even trust Junior with those sticky, smelly vats of liquid sugar. Forget hospitality, there is no way Zeke was opening a bag of juice in my car. Sarah gives me the squirrel eye, but accedes to my wishes.

We get to the museum and, long story short, everything goes off without a hitch. Kids have fun, see animals, rocks, planets, etc. They have a snack and off we go, back to school for disembarkment.

In the school parking lot, Sarah removes Zeke and the car seat. As she removes the seat and pauses for what looks like deep meditation. This seems odd to me, so I approach her to see what’s going on. She says:
“You have a problem.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Ants.”
“What?” I say.
“There are ants in your car.”

Pause for the following thought process.
Ants. In my car. Wrongo!
I DON’T LET MY KID EAT BACK THERE ESPECIALLY NO SUGAR LADEN STICKY JUICE DRINKS YOUR FRIGGIN’ MORON WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO KILL ME YOU JUNIOR AND YOUR DARLING EZEKIEL YOU HAVE INFESTED MY BEAUTIFUL CAR YOU BAITCH!!!!!!!!
ANTS IN MY CAR? NOT BEFORE TODAY JAGASS!
ANTS IN MY CAR? NOW THERE IS BECAUSE YOUR FUGGING CAR SEAT IS FULL TO THE BRIM WITH EBOLA!!!!!!!!!

What I said was “I think you might want to clean out Zeke’s car seat.”

Perfectly pitched without an air of judgement.

Didn’t matter. She still thinks we sleep with pigs.

Which brings us to the point of the story. How does a mommy protect her children from the stupid, the oblivious, and the just plain careless?

I can’t. But I can mitigate a bit. That’s why I wanted to drive alone.

I tell Friendly as soon as possible. For once, he is on my side. He does not defend the offender. He has two responses:
1.) Ugh! What animals!
2.) I’ll clean it out when I get home.

No need honey. What with technology today, I just got out the packing tape and picked up the stragglers.

I hope.

No telling yet if the queen is still in my car protecting her younguns…
And hatching more.  ¶ 9:57 AM