His and Hers: Step aside, ma'am, I'm on a mission

Husband-and-wife journalists Bob Miller and Callie Clark Miller use this space to offer their views on everyday issues.

SHE SAID

The moment is tense. Only carefully enforced self-restraint keeps Bob from honking the horn. If you watch closely, you'll note his palms twitching with the need to blast out his frustration on the steering wheel.

Where are we? Stuck in rush hour traffic in St. Louis? Poking along at 5 mph behind a farm implement on Highway 25? No. We're sitting in the student drop-off lane at my stepson's elementary school.

My recent shoulder surgery rendered me temporarily one-armed and thus incapable of driving (well, driving safely anyway). So Bob and I carpooled to work; handy since we work in the same office. But witnessing my husband's preschool-like reaction to pre-school traffic reminded me that his patience isn't growing with age, but diminishing.

"Why are they taking so long? Just say 'goodbye,' get out of the car and move," he'll rant as we wait behind a mom in a minivan hugging her daughter (twice) before driving away, or the dad who gets out of the car, walks around the vehicle and opens the door so his son can clamor out.

"This is the drive-through lane. If they want to help their child inside, they need to park in the parking lot and let the rest of us through," Bob growls.

Yes, in the morning, my husband growls. At just about everything. It is true that congestion at this particular school turns into a full-blown vehicular epidemic when the bell rings. Police can often be found directing traffic.

I've suggested we avoid the drive-through lane altogether and just let Drew jump, tuck and roll out of the speeding car as we drive by the school in the mornings on our way to work. I mean, his backpack would cushion the fall, right?

Seriously, waiting 30 seconds behind a parent telling their child to have a great day, wiping the doughnut crumbs from the corner of the kid's mouth and then waiting to make sure they get to the school door safely isn't that big a deal to me.

Especially when I think ahead to Dawson starting kindergarten. By then, Bob will probably have figured out a way to airlift the kids in to avoid the traffic situation altogether.

HE SAID

Callie only sees the small picture sometimes, God bless her. Or perhaps it's the other way around.

My cute and talented wife sees a mom stopped, getting out of her van, opening the door, kissing the girl, going around to the other side of the van, opening the other door, kissing the boy, grabbing the lunch bags, giving the boy and the girl the lunch bags, giving the boy and girl more kisses and wiping the dried-up doughnut off the boy's face. And she thinks it's cute.

I see a stopped car, stopped traffic, the need for this line of cars to move, the baby that will soon start crying in my back seat, the meeting I need to prepare for as soon as I get to the office, the pile of other things I have to do at the office, the need to get home by 5:30 p.m. to get to Drew's ball practice, a woman ahead of me who refuses to use the parking lot to actually park her vehicle and then watches her children until they get inside the building. And I think it's rude.

I am not the aggressive driving fiend Callie makes me out to be, but certain things are aggravating. Things such as pulling out in front of me, stopping in front of me and parking in front of me.

When I am in public, I'd like to think I'm aware of the people around me and make sure I am not getting in the way. In the grocery aisle, I'll make sure I don't double park my cart next to someone so others can't get through. On the walking trail, I'll be the person who walks in the grass to let others have the path. In traffic, I'll usually wave the other person ahead or move over in the right lane -- even if it means having to slow down behind another vehicle -- in order to let an in-a-hurry vehicle to pass.

For me, the hugs and kisses at the school aren't necessary. I do that when I get home at the end of the day, when I put my son to bed at night. When it's time to leave in the morning, I tell Drew it's time to GO to school, not time to STOP at school. On the way, I look at his face and warn him if he's got some runaway toothpaste. He fixes it before we're halfway there. As we prepare to stop, I tell him to have a stupendous day, to behave himself and that I love him. He grabs his gear, opens and shuts the door. Together, we miraculously accomplish this task every morning while not forcing 20 cars behind us to wait but just long enough for him to get out of the car.

Thirty seconds may not be much to Callie, but if everybody took 30 seconds to drop of their child, can you imagine the problems that would cause?

Callie Clark Miller is the special publications managing editor for the Southeast Missourian and is thankfully back to driving herself to work. Bob Miller is the Southeast Missourian managing editor tapping his fingers on the steering wheel behind you. Reach them at cmiller@semissourian.com and bmiller@semissourian.com.