The Great Deer Incident of 2010

One night, a long time ago, I hit a deer on my way home from work. Toby was in bed already but the next morning I showed him my severely dented car before it went off to the mechanics to get fixed.

Little did I know it would soon become his FAVOURITE story.

ANY chance he gets, Toby reminds, questions and BUGS me about this incident. It initially came up a few months ago after having to have a conversation about seatbelts. I had explained to him that being buckled into his carseat was the equivalent of how adults have to wear seatbelts; to keep us safe in case of an accident.

“Oooh” he said knowingly, “Like when you hit that MOOSE, Mommy?”

I clarified that it had not, in fact, been a moose, but a deer.

But WHY had I hit that deer? (Because it had jumped in front of my car). And WHAT had it done to the car? (Schmucked it.) And WHAT had happened to the deer? (It flew into the air) and WHERE had I sent my car? (To the mechanics be fixed).

For days after my innocent ”seatbelt lesson” I was plagued with questions about The Great Deer Mishap.

This rapid fire questioning continued for days and then (FINALLY) he let it go.

Until this week.

As he was rounding my car to get into his side he noticed my little “deer alert” things that I bought for $2 at Dollorama. Apparently they make some sort of sound that humans can’t hear but somehow warn deer in particular (according to the package) that you’re coming. I thought for $2 it was worth a shot. Given the bag of worms it then opened up, I’m starting to rethink my purchase. I braced myself and then explained to him what they were.

Toby looked at me very seriously.

“Is this so you don’t hit any more DEERS, Mommy?” (Thank heavens he’d at least stopped referring to them as MOOSE.)

“Yes.”

“Cause last day when you hit a deer you hurt your car?”

“Yes”

“Did you hit the FRONT of your car?”

“Yes”

“Did it hurt the STEERING WHEEL?”

“No”

“And then you had to have a WHITE car while they fixed your BLUE car?”

I paused after this question and searched in the depths of my pre-Mia memory for the colour of the rental car and concluded that it had, in fact, been white. How does he REMEMBER these things?

I will spare you any further details but suffice it to say that my son continually demonstrates himself to be a perfect blend of my husband and myself; lecturing, ruminating and obsessing over a minor car mishap (like his dad) but adding the odd Moose-like-flare for exaggeration just to prove he’s got a little of me in him, too.