Children, waiting for friends to walk to school: Someone's here! Someone's here!
Mother, yelling from kitchen: All right, I'll be right out and we'll leave.
Children: Someone's here! Someone's at the door!
Irritated Mother: All RIGHT. I said I'm on my way.
Children: He's here! He's here!
Really Irritated Mother: WHO is WHERE?
Oldest Child: Mr. Young Ponytailed First Grade Teacher is here!
Mother: WHAT? [runs into trashed living room toward screen door]
Mr. Young Ponytailed First Grade Teacher: Your stroller was rolling toward the street. I thought there was a baby in it.
Flustered Mother: Oh, Good Lord, no. There's no baby in it.
Mr. Young Ponytailed First Grade Teacher: Well, it was on its way out to the road. I just wanted to stop and let you know.
Still Flustered Mother Who Can't Stop Talking: Well, that's what happens when you trash-pick your jogging stroller--you get one with no brakes!
Mr. Young Ponytailed First Grade Teacher: .... Yeah, well.... [backs away]
Flustered and Embarrassed Mother: Thank you!