“Mommy! Why aren’t we moving?” There was panic in my son’s voice.
“Can’t baby. We are all stuck here.”
Cars were lined up as far as the eye could see both in front and behind us. I was fighting my blood pressure, willing the intense irritation to go away. If there is anything I hate, it is being late for clinic.
“Go, mommy! Go!” My daughter chimed in. If it was bothering her big brother, then by golly it was going to bother her, too.
Traffic stopped like this for so long meant only one thing…
A terrible accident somewhere ahead. Fear. Pain. Suffering. Death.
“Mommy? We need to go…”
We crept forward a few inches then stopped again.
Thirty minutes passed like this.
“Mommy, we are going to be late!”
“I know baby.” I called my office manager and the school to let them know we were stuck indefinitely. 8AM had already come and gone without us.
We crept along some more.
Finally, the flashing lights were visible. Three fire trucks. Four police cars. Ambulances.
“Mommy? Why is that car upside down?”
Brief silence from the kiddos as they both took in the scene.
“What is wrong with the other car?”
It was sitting upright but was facing the wrong way, the roof bashed in from having flipped. A large red tarp covered the driver’s side.
“Somebody had a very bad accident.” And died.
“Are they going to be OK?” My daughter asked, tearing up.
“Don’t worry,” my son answered. “We can call Superman. He will fix it and help those people.” He leaned over to his sister and whispered, “Daddy is Superman.”
“No he isn’t!”
“Yes he is. Look! There he goes!” He pointed out the window at an airplane vapor trail.
“Mommy, is Daddy Superman?” My daughter was clearly skeptical.
“Absolutely. Don’t you see him flying?”
“Oh!” She settled back into her seat beaming, satisfied.
Because every kiddo should have a real life hero to fend off life’s darkness as long as possible…