Mom on the Run: Sure, I could be a chauffeur

Lianne Wilkens/Columnist
Published: March 30, 2008

It's 6:25 p.m. and I click off the TV, look at the clock and sigh.

It was a good movie and I enjoyed wasting almost two hours in the middle of the week, but it was irresponsible, and I know it.

"Well," I say to my son, "you need dinner, I never got off the couch and your art class starts in 35 minutes."

We sit and regard each other for a second before his face lights up and, "Chipotle?" he suggests.

I ponder. "If we hurry," I tell him, and I reach for my shoes. "Awesome!" he chirps, and jumps off the couch.

I grab my purse and we head for the minivan, yanking the front door shut behind us. We make the first light but miss the second, and I tap the steering wheel impatiently as we watch other cars (and several precious minutes) zip by.

Finally it's our turn, we cross, and, "The next light'

going to turn red just as we get there," I tell my son. "Every time …" I trail off as, sure enough, the light turns red.

We wait for our green, then get moving again.

"I think turning here is quicker," I say, then glide through one light, down another street, and pull up to the next light just as red clicks off. We turn left, turn right, and pull into the Chipotle parking lot. It's 6:40 p.m.

I peer into the windows as we park, and "Excellent! No line!" Clock ticking in my head, I pay for my son's burrito while it's still being made, fill his cup as he grabs napkins, and off we go again.

Back in the van, I check the clock: "Only 6:45!"

My son unwraps his burrito and attacks it, wiping grains of rice off his chin as he drills down.

Now to art! We've made excellent time so far, but our errand is only half done. I get back onto the main road rather than sitting in line at the shopping center exit, then turn left. I cruise through parking lots, turn right when I see a backup to the left, stick to side streets and employ evasive maneuvers at every intersection.

Finally, "Seven minutes to spare," I tell my son as I pull in next to the art studio. He's got half his burrito still to eat and he sucks on his straw as he looks at the clock.

"Wow," he says, impressed, as he recognizes how far we went and how quickly. "You could be a chauffeur!"

I look at my son and think of the 10,000 trips I've made within this five-mile radius in the past decade, shuttling kids here, there, and everywhere.

I think about how I knew the light was going to turn red, when it would be quicker to turn right than left, where to expect traffic, and all the side streets.

"Yeah," I say grimly to my passenger, who's going to get out and wait here for me to pick him up again. "I COULD be a chauffeur!"

And I just cackle.

Lianne Wilkens lives with her family in Manassas. She can be reached at .