Yesterday, as I drove The Actor home from school, my cell phone rang. It was Resident Evil calling. I pushed my Blue Tooth earpiece button.
"Hello?" Nothing. "Hello? Hello? Resident Evil, hello?" I pushed the button again. Maybe she'd accidentally dialed my number.
Again came the defiant voice of Amy Winehouse singing Rehab. Yeah, I know, that's a delightful ringtone. I pushed the Blue Tooth button again.
"Hello?" Nothing. Shit. She was home alone for just a few minutes while I raced out to pick up The Actor. What was I thinking to leave her home alone? What if someone had gotten into the house and she was hiding in her closet trying to call me for help, but afraid to speak for fear of discovery. Shit! Shit! Shit! I am the worst mother ever! Panic button almost pressed.
"HELLO! HELLO! RESIDENT EVIL, ARE YOU THERE? ARE YOU OKAY?" My heart raced and The Actor looked at me like I was insane.
Finally, she answered me. "Mommy....."
Oh. Shit. "Are you okay?" I asked, the fear making my voice crack. Why was I whispering? Oh yeah, the possible home invader terrorizing my child....
This time she spoke clearly in a normal voice. "Mommy?"
I was about to lose my shit. "Resident Evil, are you okay?"
Panic shifted to annoyance. "Why didn't you answer me?"
"I was giving you the silent treatment," she announced.
Originally posted on January 23, 2008