Hot Dog

There is no greater injustice than being trapped in your car in 100 degree heat in deadlock traffic when you just want to get home. As the sun beats down through the windshield, sweat rolls down my calf to my ankle. Not even my poor Jetta's AC can stop my sweat-soaked shirt and damp brow.

Staring at the cars in front of me, I shake my fist at the rubberneckers that have locked down an entire city highway.

"You morons!" I shout. "I'm going to beat you over the head with my pink princess lunch box!"

The cars ignore me. Their drivers chat on cell phones and smoke.

"It's just a wreck!" I bellow. "A stupid wreck! Some asinine moron probably got distracted and flipped his SUV or ran in the back of someone. It happens everyday! It's nothing special."

The car in front of me inches ahead. I sigh and pound my head against the steering wheel.

After moving three feet, I debate getting out of my car and dancing. Looking around at all the strange, bobbing heads around me, I decide not to.

Two feet later, I begin to ponder why exactly Texas does not have solar paneled cars.

Five feet later, I can smell myself. It's not pretty. I smell like I've been running for a mile.

Six inches later, I decide my butt hurts. I've been in the same spot for 20 minutes.

"HELLO!" I bellow to some cows on the side of the road. "I don't have any food, but if I give you the plastic knife and napkin in my car, can I ride you home?"

The cows chew, staring at me blankly. "Where's the GLUG when I need him?" I mutter.

One mile later, I see some police lights. Now both sections of the road have slowed to the pace of a snail's crawl. "Somebody better be dead," I mutter. I glare at the other cars and fume about how I could have been home with Ben and the Babies thirty minutes later if someone hadn't screwed up. It's a great example of how one person's stupidity effects us all. My list of things to do starts running through my head.

Finally, I reach the site of the accident. A truck has hit a Honda. Whoop-de-di-doo. Everyone's in the grass pointing at each other. No one is bleeding. There's barely any visible damage except to the truck, who has no doors.

It is not a scene worth staring at for two minutes. I promise.

Suddenly, everyone begins to fly down the road. After a few more stops and a few turns, I pull into the driveway. Struggling out of the car with my purse, briefcase, lunchbox and plate from lunch, I burst into the house. I sniff the air.

"Darling?" I called.

I heard metal clinking in the kitchen and tiny feet barrelling towards me. I greeted the two balls of fur that were licking my toes and reaching up for kisses as I made my way to the kitchen.

"Darling?" I called again. After prying my toes from Bear's teeth, I stumbled into the kitchen.

And nearly burst into tears of joy.

The table was set with drinks and condiments. Two plates were filled with rice and corn as hot dog buns toasted in the toaster oven.

"I decided to surprise you with dinner," Ben said, beaming. He clicked his tongs at me. "Two hot dogs?"

I nodded and wrapped my arms around his waist as the babies danced around our feet. "Honey," I said, "This is the best dinner anyone has ever made for me. You even have a vegetable!"

"And hot dogs," he grinned. "And peanut butter ice cream for dessert."

I squeezed his belly so tight he grunted. "Darling, you're my hero."