We live in a tiny little house, on a tiny little hill, with tiny little people inside and that includes a tiny little driveway. This time of year it can get very slippery with snow and ice that never melts because of the tiny little house shading the driveway. Recently, I returned from the daily after school pick ups and drop offs. The drive had some snow and ice on it. The girls and I started to get out of the car when I heard a screaming voice from the Mini. With backpack strapped on her back she had slipped between the car and the stone wall next to the driveway. She looked like a beetle turned on its side, arms and legs flaying. I can’t get to her, because her door is blocking my way and the stone wall it is pressed again. So I yell to the Miss to help her sister. She flew out of the car, runs around the back of it and slips herself. Now I hear yells of pain and screams for mom. I am standing in front of my soccer mom bus pondering how to reach whichever child is crying louder. Do I climb on the hood of the truck, over the top and side down the rear? That might work, yes, that’s it! As I celebrating my brilliant plan of rescue, I hear laughter. The Mini has recovered her footing and is laughing at herself and sister. Pushing past the Mini, I hurry to help my 13-year-old off the ground who is crying from the pain of a hard landing. I know it must hurt. She is a tough soccer player that gets beat on a lot and never sheds a tear. I hug and comfort her. We hobble to the front door. The Mini is fine. The Miss is a bit sore. I simply roll my eyes. Some days are like this.