My son. My delightful seventeen-soon-to-be-eighteen son.
Every morning he gets up and drives himself to seminary (for those of you non-LDS, it's a morning scripture study class for high schoolers). He takes our small car and then parks it in front of school when he gets there.
Hubby and I get up and we take the girls to school each morning a few hours later. Then I drop hubby off where The Boy has parked the car, he drives it back home and then drives it to work.
Are you with me so far? Good.
So he leaves the house around 6:20-6:30 every morning. Seminary is from 6:30 til about 7:15 or so. He then drives a few blocks to school and parks the car.
In theory, and usually in practice, this is when he TURNS the car OFF, removes the key, locks the door and walks into school.
Not so today.
When I dropped hubby off at the parked car, it was parked all right. It was even locked. The problem? IT WAS RUNNING. Key in ignition, car running.
For over an hour. Sitting in front of the high school. Running.
This is one of those moments when my husband and I look at each other, brows furrowed and attempt to figure out how he managed to do what he did.
Thus far, we've yet to come to any satisfactory conclusion to any of the things he's done.
I'm sorry, but even being blond doesn't quite cover this.