I had a pillow and a life sized baby doll in my lap (who will be baby Jesus, of course.)
It went through my mind I hoped we weren't stopped by police, thinking I had a real baby in my lap.
Now, for a normal person, that would be the end of that.
But for a writer? Nope.
The scene unfolds:
Blue lights go on behind us. We pull over. Policeman comes to the window and says: "Ma'am, you were reported seen transporting a baby without an infant carrier." He's staring at the doll in my lap.
I smile sweetly, hold the doll up by one arm and say, "Baby Jesus."
The cop looks at me strangely, speaks into his radio, sotto voce, but I think he says, "I may need back up."
Then he asks Daughter for her registration, insurance, driver's license, etc. She says, "I'm adopted."
End results: That week's newspaper headline: "Former Mental Health Center Director Held in Psych Unit for Evaluation: Claims Doll is 'Baby Jesus'.
Response of my 'old' staff:
Lisa: "You leave her alone! If anyone could have Baby Jesus in their lap, it would be her!"
Tracy: "You leave Mama alone! She can play with dolls if she wants to! Is that a crime? Well, is it? I'm calling my sister, the attorney!"
Jonathan: "She's probably right. She's never been wrong before. If I were you, I'd be careful around that doll."
Tim: "I was afraid of this...I'm a psychologist now, you know."
Myra: "They, Lord help!"
And so on.
See how hard it is to be a writer?
You can't turn your brain off.
Film at eleven.
