A PSA

Today, while driving home from dance class, Violet and I were in the Trailblazer and having some really great girl time. We'd gone to Chick Fil A and picked up dinner, just the two of us. We chatted all the while, giggling. I passed her some fries, then had some myself, telling her it was our secret. We giggled some more.

Then from  the back seat I heard a thin, worried voice say, "Don't drink and drive!"

I glanced in the rear view mirror and smiled, said, "That's right, Violet." Then saw her eyes. She was staring at me.

I had a soda in my hand.

I said, "Is there a reason you are telling me to not drink and drive?"

She nodded and said, "You're drinking and driving!"

OMG. How many people has she said this to? Can you hear this? "My mommy drinks and drives all.the.time."

So. I explained that 'don't drink and drive' meant not to drink alcohol and drive, but that it was just fine to drink soda and drive. She didn't know what alcohol was. I explained that it was beer and wine. Then we had to chat about why beer and wine are not OK and soda is OK, and what drunk means.

During all this my brain was racing, racing, because I was trying to name and locate the phone number of all possible people Violet has been in the car with over the past three months. I figure that's about how long she's been working this over -- I'm going with a big window here.

But how do you start that conversation?

"Hi, I'm Violet's mom and I just wanted to tell you that she thinks 'drinking and driving' means drinking a soda and driving! Isn't that funny? So when she said . . . "

Yeah.

In the end, I called Diana and we just laughed. Because, really, what else is there to do?