Anyone driving with small children in the car may be all too familiar with scenes of pure and utter mayhem and of course, the distraction that this can lead too.
Inevitably, Mr 5 and Miss 8 will partake in some form of fisticuffs, Miss 2 will whinge, cry and moan and Mr 11 will provide a running commentary....'Are you sure this is the right way? The speed limit is 60 here you know. There's another car coming! This music is lame, can I change it?'
So driving for me involves lots of gritting of teeth and chanting 'Stay calm, stay calm'
Yesterday was no exception. After the torturous drive from the GC to Brisbane, kids packed into my people mover like sardines and Hubby absent from proceedings as usual, we made it to the park where I was meeting the assorted cousins, Aunty's and Uncles.
The next step was finding a car park.
Aaaarrgggh! Nightmare of Nightmares there is nothing I hate more than trying to squeeze my humongous mover of small people into a parking space created for people who drive a Honda Jazz or a Nissan Micra.
So, with assembled children screaming, yelling, whinging, crying and instructing, I 'attempted' to move the monstrosity into a space of infinitesimal proportions. In I went, slowly, carefully. I backed out a bit to make absolutely sure, then back in, gently, so gently. It was then that I heard it....the sound that all drivers dread....that unmistakable scrape of metal kissing metal.
My car had taken a distinct liking to the car in the space next door and had shared its affections. On it's back bumper.
I discarded my parking attempt. Parked a short distance away and then raced back, with kidlets in tow to asses the damage of my vehicle's paramour.
A bump, bruise, scratch on the bumper was there for all the world to see. I was horrified, mortified, beside myself. The kids were all standing there and saying (loudly)
'Ooooh Mum, you hit that car, Oooooh, you are in so much trouble, Ooooh the police are going to come.' Thanks a lot kids, my confidence has just sky rocketed.
Now, I wasn't sure what to do next. Do I travel around the enormous park and ask each and every person if it was their car? Or do I leave a note?
So I wrote a quick letter apologising and giving my name and number. Then I tried to have fun at the park with the kids...which was virtually impossible. I kept waiting for the phone to ring and for some irate person to curse me to the heavens...but it didn't.
It was later, much later that the call finally came. I had made it home, with my sanity barely intact, Hubby had made an appearance not long after and it was he that took the call.
'Oh, the poor dear' said the lovely car owner over the phone, 'Tis but a scratch, tell her to not worry.....Oh, and thank her for leaving a note, that was very considerate'
Considerate? Me? The person who just rear ended your car? Are you quite sure?
So despite the new bump that my monster truck has just acquired I now feel immensely relieved that I encountered one of the few people that may have viewed the predicament in my favour. Wonders will never cease.
And I have learnt my lesson....Me + Small parking spaces = Epic fail!