This morning. I took Camille, Georgie and Cole to Sam's to pick up dinner for Kristen and co. (I had a lovely one made and the dog ate it. Seriously. But that's another story.)
We walked outside, with Cole in the sling and Georgie in the cart. Camille was walking. I said, "Hold onto the cart."
"I can't. My hands are full."
"Okay, then stay by the cart."
We walked outside and I realized my car was by the enterence. I turned the cart to go to the left.
I saw the big red car, the love child between a London double decker bus and an SUV. I stopped to go around it. Camille didn't realize I stopped and kept on walking.
That's when the car started moving.
I screamed, "Cami! Come here!" She was totally confused and kept trying to move but the car kept backing up. I couldn't move; if I let go of the cart, Georgie would crash into the car. If I didn't, I couldn't get to my daughter. I kept saying, "Camille! Come here" and the person in the car WAS NOT PAYING ATTENTION. Finally, someone leaned on their horn and the car stopped moving.
Camille is fine.
An employee ran out to us, asked us if we were okay and helped me to the car. He even loaded the car for me. It wasn't until we were on the road that I realized how bad it could have been.
He wasn't paying attention! He was trying to turn into a parking spot and that was more important than paying attention to what he was doing!
Thank God she's fine. And people wonder why we celebrate our Guardian Angels with beer. The poor blokes are probably drunks!