After a very long day of work, I needed to make a quick run into Walgreens on my way home. As we pulled into our parking spot, Ev says casually:
“Go ahead mom. You run into the store. I’ll just wait here in the car and hold down the fort.”
“Um, no love. I don’t want to leave you in the car alone; you have to come with me.”
When he counters “But mom,” I’m already cringing. We are working on just saying a simple ok, but for my little lawyer there seems the need to present his case each and every time we discuss anything.
“Mom, I just don’t want to run into the geese. They are mean and they bite!”
“The geese aren’t here today Ev, and besides, they won’t bother you if you don’t bother them.”
We continue this discussion as he holds my hand in a death grip through the parking lot. In the store, we have more in-depth conversation about the dangers of geese. After I pay for my purchases, we step outside, and Ev starts screeching in a terrified high-pitched voice. There in the parking lot, not more than ten feet from our car, is a whole gaggle of geese–at least twenty of them. Most are bigger than Ev.
“Hurry, Mama, hurry! Run! Oh my word they’re coming for us! They’re coming for us!” he starts dragging me as fast as he can back to the car, whooping and swinging his arms toward the geese. Suddenly, he just freezes in fear.
“No, they’re not coming for us, Ev. They’re not even looking at us. Let’s just act like we don’t even notice them.” I say with my calmandcollected voice.
“Yes, they are, Mom, and they’ll bite us!”
“Geese won’t hurt you if you just mind your own business, love. Now let’s just mind our business and everything will be fine.”
Inside, I do not quite believe my own words since I have heard the stories of how mean geese can be—chasing and even biting people.
Adamantly, Ev lets me know in no uncertain terms how he feels: “Listen, Mom. Geese are fuzzy. squishy. AND bitey. I. do. not. like. them. And, just in case you’re wondering, neither does my sister.”
I look at my little man whose eyes are large and frightened; he is refusing to be led by the hand, putting arms and legs out in full stop like our dog Oreo when she is being led to the bath. It’s already been a long day. I just want to get home in the quickest way possible; I forget reasoning with him, swoop him into my arms, and whisk him to the safety of the car. Wonder Woman Mama to the rescue.
Ev’s eyes never leave the geese. He is watching them carefully while I fasten him into his car seat. As I close the door, he is making sure they are not following me into the car. From his window seat and the safety of a closed car, he looks out at them one last time.
“Whew! That was a close one!”
A few minutes later I hear, “Hey Mom…”
“I love you so much in the whole world!”