A Tale of Woe

It was a blustery Friday morning. I had just dropped Madeleine off at daycare and Isabelle and I were chatting peacefully as I drove her to preschool.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a kamikaze squirrel jumped out of a nearby bush and ran as fast as his legs could carry him toward the rear wheel of my monstrous van.

I tried to swerve to avoid hitting the pint-sized rodent but my efforts were in vain as I heard the inevitable bump-bump sound of wheels on fur. Things only got worse when I realized to my horror that a group of former students were watching the scene while waiting happily at the bus stop. At the time my only hope was that they hadn't seen I was the squirrel-murdering offender so I sped off, choosing instead to be a cowardly hit-and-run squirrel killer.

Looking back at how events unfolded I can only imagine that if the children did know it was me they may have thought my swerve of avoidance was actually a calculated move to rid the earth of all things fluffy and cute. And now I am no longer Mrs. Brock, beloved kindergarten teacher - I am that mean lady who kills harmless animals. Oh, if they only knew how many times I have successfully maneuvered out of the way of dim-witted animals of all sizes - my most heroic of all being the moves I used to save the life of a miniature tree frog.

To make myself feel better I will now hold up Eleanor Roosevelt as evidence that great people really do make horrible mistakes:

Here she is sporting her favorite fur coat - made from squirrels.