The Death of Bambi

Driving home from the Sunday night dinner with the grandparents the other week my husband decided to drive down a less-traveled road to get home faster than if we took the freeway. I warned him not to take this road at dusk or night because of the high deer population in the area.

Does he listen to me? NO. Typical male.

So we're driving along happily with all three kids in the car. Sure enough two beautiful, adorable baby deer appear in the road. Husband brakes. I scream. Son closes his eyes. The toddlers are blissfully napping and unaware of the horror that is about to unfold.

With relief, I see the cute and adorable baby deer dart off to the side of the road. Then, as if in slow motion, one of the fawns turns back and stops. And hubby hits it. Smacks right into that Darwin Deer. Denting my license plate in the process (I have now learned that Toyota SUV bumpers are tougher than they look)

So, what exactly are you supposed to do when you've just killed Bambi?
Do you pull over and check on it?
Do you drag it to the side of the road?
Do you run it over again, just to put it out of its misery in case it's not dead yet?
Do you pick it up & give it to the neighbors who have no problems with eating venison?

Well, if you're a California transplant, you just keep driving and you feel guilty about it for weeks.

A few days later (on our 6 year wedding anniversary) hubby and I were in the Disney store and saw a big stuffed Bambi in the store. I asked hubby if he felt the urge to run it over. He didn't think it was funny. I thought it was hilarious!