Drive Through..please

Pre-kids, I thought drive-throughs were for lazy people.

I mean, really, you can't even walk inside to get yourself that cheeseburger? And drive-through banking? Is that really necessary? What's next...a drive through pharmacy? (Well, yes, as it turns out, they were next).

That's not to say, of course, that I never used drive-throughs. I just acknowledged that I was being lazy when I did.

Growing up, there was only one drive-through that certain members of my family used. The drive through liquor store. Now that one makes sense. Why would you want to get out and stumble inside if you can just pull up to the drive through and order your "six best of Milwaukee's pack, please"?

I don't think drive-through liquor stores exist anymore. That's probably a very good thing. But there are drive-through banks, and drive-through pharmacies, and even drive-through churches (unfortunately none around here. I would be all over that faster than B could say "Would you like a beer" to the person next to him). And, of course, there are more drive-through fast food places than I can count.

A funny thing has happened since having kids. My perspective has changed. I've realized that drive throughs aren't for lazy people. They're for mothers! Of course! Now it all makes perfect sense.

We are quite fond of drive-throughs, as experience has taught me that it's best not to take the kids inside. Anywhere. Ever. We are at the bank at least twice a week, and each night when we say our prayers, I make sure the kids add "Thank you God for the drive-through at the bank, so that mommy didn't have to lose whats left of her mind by taking us inside with her".

NBO love the bank people, since the nice bank people give them lollipops. The bank people also love NBO, as they find them quite entertaining. Apparently, that little speaker works both ways, and one day recently, when I looked in to see all the bank people laughing, I realized that they had been listening to us. Seven years of drive through banking flashed before my eyes. I'm sure they'd heard more than enough screaming over the years, but had they also heard all our conversations about body parts? And why mommies and have "boop boops"? Had they heard B repeatedly tell me that "Mickey needs to pee now, mom". Had they heard me tell each child 27 times to get their finger out of their nose? Had they heard me, in my desperate mommy voice, begging the children to please.just.stop.talking?

My guess is that they heard all of that, and more. In fact, I'm quite sure that the people at the bank know more about us than they ever wanted to. So I instituted a new rule. No talking at the bank. The bank people only give lollipops to silent children. So far, this rule not only works, but actually gives me approximately four minutes of absolute silence. Thank you God.

I discovered the downside of four minutes of silence today. It had been a long morning. I was incredibly grateful for those four minutes, and I was starting to drift off. I did this once before, when O was an infant. That time, I woke to the sound of me laying on the horn. This time, I woke to the sound of the bank lady saying "How many shots do you want?"

Shots? They're offering me shots at the bank? This is better than the drive through liquor store! Of course, I'll have to take them to go, since I would never do shots while driving. But still...shots!

The bank lady is staring at me, and I'm realizing that she must not have offered me shots.

"How many pops?"

That makes more sense.

A few seconds later, three lollipops arrive in the tube.

OK, so I was a little disappointed, but they're always asking what they can do to improve our banking experience.

And now I can tell them.