I was nicely driving home from Chick-fil-A today, chatting with Hannah in the back seat. Then the jerk behind me was apparently unfamiliar with the procedure of four-way stops, and he didn’t appreciate that I remained at a stop and yielded to another guy who had the right-of-way. So he honked at me, waved his arms around and yelled, “Come on!”

Remembering I had a toddler in the back seat, I took a deep breath and just muttered, “Sheesh, chill out.” To clarify to Hannah, I said, “The guy in the car behind us is a little cranky.”

“He’s sad?” she asked.

“Maybe,” I answered. “Maybe he’s having a bad day and now he’s cranky.”

“Mommy pray for him.”

I rolled my eyes a bit. Clearly, she didn’t understand the situation. This jerk-face just honked at me with excessive arm-waving and then revved up his car to dramatically pass me as soon as we were through the stop sign (that I’m pretty sure he didn’t actually stop at). But I didn’t feel right refusing her request.

“Dear Jesus, please help the cranky guy to feel better and be a safe driver. Amen.”

Nothing spiritually earth-shattering, but Hannah seemed content and we moved on with our drive home. And I wasn’t so ticked off any more.