I slide a peek at her and find her watching me, straw from the juice box in her mouth, but she’s clearly not sucking on it.
“You’re a big dork,” she finally says.
I’ll take it. Especially since she’s not making a fuss about me feeding hertoddler food, or insisting that we talk more about if I want to date her coach, or about any of the rest of our family.
“It’s hereditary,” I tell her. “You’ll be a big dork one day too.”
Don’t have to look to know she’s rolling her eyes again.
“Deer,” she says suddenly. “Deer.Deer. Horse!”
I hit the brakes once more as I process why she’s shrieking about deer-horses.
Her cookie pack goes flying and hits the windshield.
We both jolt in our seat belts.
I mentally berate myself for giving her moredriving traumathat’ll keep her from wanting her own license for another several months.
And a massive elk steps into the road about ten feet in front of us.
“Oh my God, it’s huge,” Junie says.
Two more follow.
And then three more, plus a little one.
“Ababy,” she squeals. “Are baby deer supposed to be that big?”
“It’s an elk,” I tell her. “You can tell by the big white butt.”
“In Europe, this is a deer. Only moose are called elk over there.”
I glance at her.
She’s not being snotty.
She’s enthralled.
“Mom, there are three thousand of them,” she whispers.
Maybe fifty.
They’re on one side of the road amid the straggly, drying grass, the herd slowly following the leader across in front of our car, some noshingon whatever they can find on the ground, one with smallish antlers trying to mount another, and way more than just one baby.
“Aren’t they pretty?” I whisper back.
“They’re gorgeous.”
Her eyes are wide as she leans forward in her seat. “Put your blinkers on. Don’t be a sitting target on the highway. And flash your lights so the cars coming the other direction aren’t stupid either.”
“Aww, look at you with all the driver’s-ed smarts. Does this mean you’re ready to try it behind the wheel again? Wedohave a lot of flat acres you could practice on.”
“Don’t be sarcastic in the presence of elk. They’ll eat you.”
I watch the herd cross the road for a bit, but mostly, I watch Junie.
The sheer awe on her face—she wouldn’t have gotten this if we’d stayed in Iowa.
