Oh Crap

So I'm in the car with the kids, getting ready to back out of the driveway. Now, 'Oh Crap' is not something I like to hear, even on a good day. But, after cleaning orange juice out of practically the whole kitchen, it kind of seemed fitting. Especially coming on the heels of, "Hey boys! Watch I can spit all the way to the bushes". I close my eyes, because I'm pretty sure that his window wasn't open. I open my eyes slowly, one at a time, as if somehow this will change the outcome. As the wad slowly oozes down from the window glass onto the side of the door, my attention is caught by the fine line of spittle still attached to his lip, linking him to the window like a clothes-line to a tree. In a panicky voice, he exclaims, "ah, what do I do?", and I notice his eyes. The surprise and innocence that I seldom see anymore in those pre-teen eyes bring me back to him as maybe 3 years old, standing before me with his hopelessly broken toy asking me to "tape it". It is the twins' laughter from the back that pulls my attention back to the moment and the anxiousness of the spitter. I reach down and pull out a wet wipe from the console, hand it to him and say, "You missed the bushes".