Heaven help us.

The other day, Josie, Norah and I went for a walk. Josie wants to hold Norah’s leash and walk in the middle of the road. I bring her back to the side. Then again. I tell her she can walk on the side of the road or she can ride in the stroller. She walks down the middle of the road. I bring her back to the side. Again. I say it’s time for the stroller. She slips from my hand and runs up the hill into someone’s yard yelling nonononono! I can’t go after her. If I do she will sprint away and she’s too fast. With that much of a lead, I won’t be able to catch her. Finally, I pretend I’m leaving (the only thing that ever works) and she starts sobbing, I put her in the stroller and head for home.

My adrenalin is pumping mad as I push that damn stroller up the hill. A neighbor I have never met comes out of her house as we pass her deck. She has a pan lid in one hand and a spoon in the other. Oh, she says looking surprised to see a screaming red-faced toddler and her glaring red-faced mother. Oh, she says again, I thought the cats were fighting outside and I was going to break them up.

That’s right, me and my girl, like two cats. That’s how we are some days.

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