You fell out of the stupid tree and hit yourself on every branch all the way down, I scolded myself.
Running late and still shaken from the early morning trauma I had just put myself through, I stomped the accelerator to the floor, swerved from the left lane to the right while alternately surging forward and braking. Horns blared musical curses at me.
“You’re scaring me, Grand Lottie,” 15-year-old grandson Christian Boggan said. “Slow down!”