Yesterday, our van broke. Scarlett had just finished her first gymnastics class, and we were all loaded up and ready to rush back to school, so that I could meet Rob for our parent-teacher conference. Everything seemed fine at first. The ramp folded up, but then the sliding door refused to close. After ten minutes of trying—and growing increasingly late for our meeting—I decided we would just drive with the door partially open.

Scarlett was nervous that the police were going to pull us over, but I was mostly concerned with the constant high-pitched screeching that accompanied us for the four-mile ride. At a stop light, the man in the next car leaned over, and said, “Your door is open.”

“We know,” I nodded, too annoyed by the ringing in my ears to muster up a smile. That was when Scarlett decided to see if she could make the exact noise the car was making. It turned out she could. Read More>