Charla and I are getting into my van. I put her in the passenger side and together we hook the seat belt. A car is parked too close to the lift door, so I grab my key out of the door and go over to the driver's side. I try to get in, but Charla is standing in the seat playing with the steering wheel. I ask her to move and she won't so I yell at her, and bodily move her and then I get in. She's crying and I explain to her, "Do you know why I did that? Because Grandma can't stand up very long. It hurts her." She seemed to understand and quiet down. I feel guilty. I see papers, folders and wallets on the parking lot area near us. I get out and pick them up. I throw away the folders (of school kids), keep two nice pens (why waste good ink?) and look into the wallets. There is no money, but lots of stamps, letters and stationery. I think about taking them into the store we're near but decide that's too hard physically and decide to go home and call the owners and have them come pick them up. So I turn out into the street and realize I went past our street. Now I'm at a busy intersection where I have to turn right and that will put me on a busy freeway to the bridge. I say, "Darn it!" Charla says, "What?" I say, "I took the wrong turn and now I'm stuck. It will be a ways before we can turn around," but as the light changes, I see a way to cross straight and miss the bridge. I hesitate and then go. Now I'm looking for a left turn that will be a through street so I can get back to where I want. All the streets I try are dead end. I'm turning around at one dead end and Charla says, "I'm going boom," which means she's started her period. "But," she continues, " I don't feel anything sticky." I laugh and say, "You can't start your period for another ten years yet." I think she's cute, wanting to grow up so fast and want to remember this to tell her mama.