One of our cars, Luigi, if that interests you, has an overly sensitive light for when doors are left open. Either that or the back hatch never quite clicks. This morning the twins started to walk to school and then realized the mist was closer to rain than fog, and came back asking sweetly for a ride. Which I agreed to. 

We barreled up Alden Road, having but hastily yanked the doors shut, which resulted in the red light. 

"Please buckle, in case it is your door that is not quite closed." I opened my own and slammed it. While driving. I know. Shouldn't do that. Then both girls opened and closed their doors, none of which convinced the warning light that we were all safely tucked inside. The twin in the back leaned over and tried the fourth door, which came perilously close to scraping a parked car. More open/slams. More laughter. 

"If someone was watching us they would probably think there is someone being kidnapped and is trying to escape."

They made it to school on time, without needing to use the blow dryer in the bathroom on their clothes. Which is handy, since their day gallops from classes to lunch to chorale to dance, finally screeching to a halt at six o'clock. 

As I walked back in the door I noticed their umbrellas waiting eagerly to shield them from precipitation. Unused. I could have furrowed my eyebrows, and told them to walk. Independence. Responsibility. Self reliance. The stuff of success. 

But then I would not have shared that two minutes of laughter with them. Which it turns out will last much longer.