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So, naturally, I slam on the brakes [just skip over these next few sentences please, Amy], pull onto the curb, jump out of the truck, leaving the windows open and my laptop and BlackBerry on the passenger seat, and run around the corner in my 4" espadrilles so that I can whoop her little butt as soon as humanly possible.
But she's gone. It took me two seconds from the time I spotted her, and now she's gone. So now, you think I'd be worried, but you'd be dead wrong. I'm pissed. And I'm starting to perspire. And now I'm walking up and down the block -- did I mention the 4" platfo
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So, I spun around, slammed the gate, jumped back into the truck (and yes, I'm VERY lucky everything was still there), and picked up the kids. Having relayed the entire fiasco to them on the way home, by the time they got to the backyard, they'd already decided her fate.
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"Nena!" the boy screeches, "I don't know what you could have been thinking? You could have been squashed by a car in the middle of the street! Like a pumpkin, Nena! A PUMPKIN!!" he yells, and then finishes with "You're not getting any treats tonight." And that was that.
And part of me was a little proud that they understood (at least a small part of) why I was mad, but another part of me just kept saying, "Oh, man, what have I done?"
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