Beep, beep, beeeeeeeep!
There are times when road rage is justified. There have been many occasions in my life when I have deserved abuse. But there's no need to sit on your horn in anger when a child's just been saved. You certainly don't need to yell "f*%king idiot!" at a guy who has just picked a kid up off the road.
In the honking driver's defence he hadn't spotted the blubbing terrified baby yet. When he did there was a sheepish wave and a red faced departure.
The dude should have done his due diligence pre-road raging.
Some friendlier drivers stopped, shoved on their hazard lights and jumped out to help. It's moments like these you realise how good most Kiwis are. Dropping everything in a flash to help a child they have no connection to.
When the smoke cleared a nice bespectacled bearded guy and I were left holding the baby.
Some big questions needed answering. Where had she come from? Where do we put her? What's that disgusting smell?
Like most 1-year-olds, the little girl couldn't talk. She could however smile and point. So we followed her lead.
Several houses later it became clear the baby's pointing had nothing to do with the direction of her home.
So we formed a door knocking party with the good people from the local dairy. Five of us set about returning the lost and now giggling child to her home.
Minutes later, I came across a house riddled with clues. A wide-open gate, a wide-open front door and an abandoned Bright Starts Bounce Bounce Baby Activity Centre sitting in the doorway. This could be the place.
After a good two minutes knocking a 4-year-old wandered out. His name was Dan and he confirmed that this was in fact the baby's house.
Dan was home alone. These were latchkey kids without a latch. More like wide-open door, leading on to a main road kids.
It was turning into an extremely complex situation for me and the nice bespectacled man with the beard. We had our own kids to pick up from school. But you can't just hiff a 1-year-old and a 4-year-old in their front door, slam then run.
So we waited and waited and eventually a woman in her 40s arrived home. We didn't receive a hero's welcome. Instead she marched up and grabbed the baby like we were trying to steal it.
You can't blame her. Two strange men in your driveway holding your kids. It looked suspicious.
We tried to bridge the language barrier by yelling "your child was on the road" over and over again but she didn't understand.
Then she saw it. The Bright Starts Bounce Bounce Baby Activity Centre sitting alone in the open doorway. She stared at the road. She stared at the kids. Her face dropped and tears filled her eyes. Our job was done.
I shook my new bearded friend's hand, waved goodbye to the cute little baby in the pink jumpsuit and we went about my business.
I felt good. I felt heroic. Every male I've told has been really impressed.
Every female has been furious at me for not calling CYF or the police or the fire department. "What if she does it again?" They cry. "You have to do something?" they plead.
I just say to them "my job is done here, my job is done".
