Everybody's heard about the bird

I enjoyed an exhilarating run this evening after work - one of those runs where I actually got "in the zone" and felt true mental clarity I seem to only achieve while running (note to self: install a treadmill in office at work).

I ran on a paved trail less than two miles from my house. It is one of my usual running spots because I can stop there on my way home from work to get a run in and because it is so close to home.

On the post-run drive home, I followed a beaten up Buick down a narrow city road. We stopped at a red light. The light turned green but the Buick didn't budge.

In my neighborhood this could mean a number of things, including but not limited to: the car stalling out at the light because the car is such a piece; a broken turn signal because the car is such a piece; operator error because the driver is drunk or high (this is my neighborhood, after all). Irritated that we were just sitting at a green light - and suspecting the beaten Buick intended to turn left but the driver just didn't feel like using a turn signal - I beeped my horn.

What happened next was surreal.

As the horn blew, a tiny brown hand emerged in the back window. Clearly the hand of a toddler in a car seat. Then, the tiny middle finger slowly unfolded.

I had a flash of Mini Me giving Austin Powers the finger.

This was even worse. Because it was a toddler.

Yes, I was flipped off by a toddler.

Nothing says welcome to my neighborhood like being flipped off by a kid in a car seat.