Driving Miss Snag

"Grandma's a criminal," I told the boys.

"Oh be quiet," said my mother. "I am not."

"Scofflaw's a better term," I conceded.

She waved her hand at me. "Stop filling their heads with nonsense."

"Their heads were full when I got them," I said.

"That's more than your parents could say," muttered the Lovely Bride. My mother graced her daughter-in-law with a smile for this show of support.

"You admitted it," I insisted. "Right here, right now."

"I said I drive with the flow of traffic," replied my mother.

"Which you acknowledged is usually ten miles an hour above than the posted limit. In other words, you confessed."

"Don't listen to him," she told my oldest son. He just got his learner's permit, which is why we were talking about driving in the first place. "One of the things they taught us in our defensive driving class was to adjust our speed to the other traffic on the road."

"It's okay to break the law if everyone's doing it?" I asked. "There's a nice lesson for the grandchildren."

"It's better than getting in an accident just to prove a point," she snapped.

"So the ends justify the means? We called that fascism when I was in school."

"You're not even making sense any more," she told me.

"That's because I'm sober," I replied. "Stick around until lunch."

"And you're worried I'm setting a bad example for your children?"

"I didn't say I was setting a good one," I said. I turned to my children. "Grandma's trying to tell you that if all your friends jump off a cliff, you should too."

"Don't worry Grandma," said my oldest. "He's the one who's always threatening to jump off a cliff."

"Can you blame me?" I asked.

"Give him a good push," my mother told him.