Grace (from the back seat): Mo-om!
Me (while driving): Yes, Gracie.
Grace: I have an owie.
Me: You do? Make sure you kiss it.
Grace: It's on my little finger.
Grace: Don't you want to see it?!
Me: I do, but I can't look at it while I'm driving.
Grace: But Mom! Why not?
Me: I have to look forward at the road. I'll look at it when we get home.
Me: So we can be safe.
Me: So I don't crash the car.
At this point, I am trying to figure out how to explain to my 3 year old the horrific possibilities of a car accident, without scarring her for life. Deciding there is no way to take this conversation with Miss Why forward in a positive way, I try to evade.
Me: We'll be home in just a minute, and I'll look at your owie then. OK?
Grace: OK, Mom.
We arrive at home a couple minutes later. I gather my things and prepare to take Grace out of her car seat. As I approach her, I decide I better keep my word and check on the horrible, distracting owie.
Me: Can I see your owie now?