355. Driving (again) (1)

Cars and driving is a hair-raising topic in our family - or rolling around laughing depending or whether you are in the car or not (Posts 254 and 255 for example).

My husband is holding the phone away from his ears. I can hear Miss Muddy Boots (soon to change name) rambling on and on. Normally he deals with this type of outbursts but right now he is pushing the phone my way.

I cannot do the mummy-killer-look (which by the way is now mastered by Miss Organiser, she showed me it is quite the thing, I am proud of her) because I am on the phone.

'Stop and pull yourself together! Whose daughter are you?'

I do not know why I say because my husband is the one to keep his cool but tonight he has had enough apparently and I have to step into his shoes.

'But mum you don't understand ... Mum ... Mum ... Listen! Pleaaaaase it is urgent, what am I going to do now and I am starting on ... MUM! Listen to me ... What am I going to do?'

I glance at my husband who is rolling his eyes. I am being the totally-under-control mummy.

'Don't worry! Mummy is here. Mummy will sort it out.' I think she might send me packing for treating her like a baby but not at all. She calms down.

'I'll sort something out.' I even use my husband's fétiche sentence and he is raising his right eyebrow looking at me with a questioning look on his face. 

The thing is Muddy Boots is going on a work placement somewhere where there are rocks falling off cliffs and she has been explaining to us for weeks, moths now that there are no buses, no trams, no trains that cantata her to the cliffs with the rocks falling off. Therefore she needs a car. And Miss Organiser has wrecked our last car, and my husband does not have a car from work because he doesn't work anymore and I have a smart little pink car and noway I am going to share it with her. Read the posts about her taking driving lessons and no doubt you'll be in agreement with me. So now we have our second daughter doubting her parents and the parents starting to feel that because of their terrible parenting skills will contribute to the failing of her course and therefore the waste of three years of financing her studies that would go up in smoke. Too tough to cope with, even for us. 

'I might have a solution, a bit of a stretch but ... still ... And she's right, time is running out.'

My husband looks at me wondering what miracle solution I have.