Right on Red

I was driving around today, as usual, when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, a memory came to me; My Dad teaching me how to drive.
I have no idea why it popped into my head, but I laughed (and winced) as I remembered the day he "taught" me about "going right on red".
(In the words of Sofia Patrillo).. PICTURE IT: Sometime back in 1994.  My dad and I in our Ford Crown Victoria Station Wagon (You know the one... With the awesome fake wood panel all the way down the sides).. Me, behind the wheel, driving inside one of the plazas in Canandaigua, while Dad talks to me about the "rules of the road".  As we approach a light that will bring us onto 5 and 20 (for those of you who are not familiar, it is the main route that runs thru most of Upstate New York), my Dad casually says, "Now, remember, you can go right on red".... so, as I approach the RED light, I turn on my blinker, and continue to drive, without stepping on the brake, without looking at the traffic, and GO RIGHT ON RED...
I never slowed down.  I never looked at oncoming traffic.  I just "went right on red" like my dad told me I could do.  I was so proud.
I have absolutely NO idea how we didn't get killed that day.  And after we DID survive, I have absolutely no idea how my father didn't have a heart attack.  And after we survived, and he DIDN'T have a heart attack, I have absolutely no idea how he didn't KILL me for having such a stupid moment.
I don't remember his FULL reaction.  I just remember him saying something about how you need to STOP at a red light before you can "turn right on red".   Ohhhhh. "TURN" right on red.  Not "GO" right on red.
Got it.

To be two again...

Just for a day.
I'd love to wake up and go straight to the couch in my pj's.  I'd sit there for as long as I wanted, watching cartoons, and eating cheerios out of the box.
I have to admit, it'd be kind of fun to have everyone play the games I wanted to play, for as long as I wanted to play them.
I wouldn't mind if complete strangers smiled at me wherever I went.  Shoot.. they could even pat me on the head and call me adorable if they wanted to.
It would be great to be hugged a hundred times, or to be praised all day long for tiny accomplishments.
I'd just about give my left arm to end every meal (that I didn't have to cook) with an Oreo cookie (or 2)... And speaking of meals... I wouldn't mind eating Kraft Mac and Cheese (for lunch AND dinner) without having to use my own child as an excuse to do so.
And at the end of the day, I'd have someone tuck me in, tell me how much they love me, and stroke my hair until I feel asleep.
Ya.  I think I could handle a day like that.