Ezoic
The enforcement officer thanked me for the documentation. The recovery driver packed up his equipment with the efficient cheerfulness of someone whose morning had gone exactly as expected.
By seven-forty-two, both boys were in the back seat of my car in their school uniforms and I was reversing out of my own driveway without consulting anyone.
Oliver clapped.
Actual, genuine applause, the spontaneous kind, the way he applauded at the end of films he particularly loved.
“Mum! We’re early!”
That stung more than I expected. Not because he said it badly, but because a six-year-old being genuinely delighted that his own driveway is usable is an indictment of how long I had let the situation run before doing anything effective about it.
Ezoic
We arrived at school twelve minutes before the gate opened.
Ben looked at me in the rearview mirror.
“Do I still have a late mark?”
