Talking to Myself

Ever have internal conversations with yourself when trying to figure something out? Today, on a 40-minute drive home, during which Weston was exhausted and really needed to nap, he took off his shoes, but couldn't put them back on again, which led to an intense fit of inconsolable screaming. My internal conversation went something like this...

Oh, geez. I thought we were over the carseat crying. Maybe I should pull over and put his shoes back on.
Seriously?
But he's screaming.
Because he is tired. Keep driving and he'll fall asleep.
Keep driving. Sure, because driving while exposed to loud, shrill noises is optimal.
The sooner you get home, the sooner you'll be able to escape the car. Just drive.
Ok, but what if there's something wrong with him?
There IS something wrong with him. It is called, "Being a tired toddler."
Something ELSE.
Such as?
He could have a dirty diaper.
You'd smell it.
He could be sitting on something sharp.
You'd have seen it while you were putting him in his carseat.
There might be fire ants in his seat.
....Fire ants.
Yes. Fire ants. It's possible.
....Surely you're joking.
Can you be 100% certain that he is not currently being bitten mercilessly by fire ants?
Well...
Ok, so it's time to stop and check him.

Of course, there were no fire ants. All he wanted were to have his shoes back on. The pre-kid me? The one who swore she would be a disciplined parent who raised disciplined kids? She is so disappointed in me right now. Then again, she was kind of an annoying know-it-all.