This morning, as Liam and I were walking to his daycare along Pacific, Liam was inches from being hit by a car. My natural over-protectiveness, that makes me hover my hands right by him whenever we’re somewhere cars are, are probably what prevented something really awful from happening:
A woman was coming out of a parking garage. There’s a little ramp from the garage up to the sidewalk, then out on to the road. From the garage door, she could probably see there was no oncoming traffic. But we (or at least Liam), was obscured from her view by a planter. But as she was driving up the ramp over the sidewalk, she wasn’t even looking. She was looking down, fumbling in her purse as she drove out onto the street. She didn’t see me or Liam. I lifted Liam up high, and the car passed underneath him. The whole thing was so close that my feet were probably half an inch from being run over by her, and his feet were maybe an inch or two above the roof of her car. She turned right, and drove off. I don’t believe she had any idea we were there at all. Were I not so worried about Liam, I’d’ve tried to get her license plate. He was totally unhurt, just annoyed at having been unceremoniously pick up by me, and just wanted down again.
Myself, my heart was pounding and I broke out in cold sweat at just the thought of what would’ve happened if Liam had been even half a step further ahead of me then he was. I really didn’t stop shaking until after I had dropped him off at Daycare and took a moment to sit down…