This past weekend Hubs and Adam went on a father/son camping trip, so I took the other kids with me to my parents' house, three hours away. We were making good time. Corrie was napping, and the boys were happily watching a DVD. It was possible I'd break my record for drive time to their house.
Toward the end of the trip, Stephen leaned forward and noticed how fast efficiently we were haulin' driving. "Mom, what's the speed limit here?" he asked curiously. "Fifty-five," I told him. He leaned forward to see the speedometer. "It looks like you're going nearly seventy," he observed. And then to himself, "I wonder if God minds?"
Busted.
(Yes, I aplogized to him. And I slowed down. And I didn't beat my record. And I began to wonder if I was going to finish my journey as a parent someday with even an ounce of pride left.)
