Our driveway (and car insurance) looks WAY different than it did just a year ago. We now have two teen drivers and due to a few happy (and other) accidents, we now have four cars and a motorhome. Something I thought I was *very* clear about is that my red Leaf is, well, mine. Mine. There are two other autos for our teens to drive, so there is no reason for anyone to drive Mama’s car.

So imagine my surprise when, after hearing that the minivan was making funny noises and witnessing Kyla leaving the house to drop Piper off at high school before she went to first day of classes at the community college, I walk out to the garage and my car isn’t there.

Turns out, since my side of the garage door was open, she took my car to school.

Sit with that for a moment. My car with my wallet in it. My chapstick. My shopping bags–only useful when I have my wallet. I had two schools to drive to that day for library sub jobs, and I could streamline my errands by hitting Costco on the way home from the second school. I was already on the edge of being late when I discovered that for no reason at all, they thought it was easier–for them–to take my car than theirs. Wow, those brains have a lot of wrinkling to do.

Prologue: Dark gloweringand scathing rebukes don’t kill, but those two will never, ever take my car again without triplicate approval forms.