You know how parents always tell their teens "if you're ever in situation where you feel uncomfortable, call me and I'll come get you, no matter what"? Yep, I got that call last week. Lauren had headed out with some friends to go to an amusement park a couple of hours away. Within an hour, she started texting me:
whoa, he's driving 115 mph.
he won't slow down.
wait, he slowed down to 100.
now they're making fun of me for wanting to go slower.
(at this point I want their phone numbers so I can give them a good verbal shaking but then I don't want them to talk on the phone AND drive over 100)
(or to call the highway patrol and get them pulled over)
(or--better yet--to actually shake some sense into them)
This is scary. But we're almost there.
Will you come and get me so I don't have to drive home with them?
Well, of course. The mama bear in me roared and I went and got her, adrenaline surging. Glad she told me (and it was actually even worse than she had let on), relieved she was okay, and peeeeeeved with the risk-taking crazy boys who will--rest assured--never chauffeur my girl again. I was so angry at their stupidity. (And also? I have never had to retrieve her from anywhere when she was with her friends from school. These were church friends. Sheesh.)
L kept apologizing on the way home. I assured her that we would go ANYWHERE to make sure she was safe. That's why there's a little mama bear cave in the heart of every mom, holding a protective and fierce creature whose first words upon waking from her hibernating slumber are DON'T MESS WITH MY CHILD.
Then I told her about the time I jumped out of a moving Volkswagen van when I was 16 (something about wanting to get out but the boy wouldn't pull over). Silly teenage brains.
