Baby on Board

The other day I was driving on the 22 freeway, or, as I like to call it, "The Path to Hell". In my usual commuter fashion, I was trying to juggle a water bottle, the radio dials, my purse, two Target bags, lotion, an old sippy cup of milk and my God-forsaken Bluetooth while steering with my elbows. What? I have 25 minutes all to myself, I have to multi-task.

In the process of debating the benefits of Jack Johnsons versus Guns N' Roses and hanging up on someone (blow me, Bluetooth), I seemed to forget to brake, thereby causing me to stop .00003 inches away from a minivan's back bumper and leave a nice trail of smoke billowing up behind me.

Yes, I put (almost) everything down and started steering with opposable thumbs. But the woman I nearly hit was none too happy and felt the need to glare at me the rest of our 14 minute ride home. Whatever. I was far too captivated with her "Baby on Board" sign to give two shits about her evil eyes.

Why on earth does someone feel the need to advertise that there's a small human in the vehicle? Does that tiny yellow sign scream, "DO NOT HIT ME. I HAVE AN INFANT IN THE CAR. GO FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO HIT, PERHAPS SOMEONE WITH A TODDLER. THEY ARE NOT BABIES SO IT IS PERFECTLY ACCEPTABLE TO SLAM INTO THEM."

I'm just saying...the tiny yellow sign almost didn't stop me.

I'm off to find a car full of 5-year olds.