A cow in the pasture is no small thing...

Call it what you want-'Maternal Instinct'... 'Flight or Fight Response'-but the fact is there's nothing like a child's scream to get your heart pumping, your blood boiling, and enough adrenaline in your veins to help you sprint to San Diego! It can be a very useful thing... but not, I've discovered, while cruising down the highway at 65 miles an hour. Case in point: The boys were completely quiet while we flew down 280 that Wednesday afternoon. Neither of them had made a peep for at least 15 minutes and I was loving it, a million miles away thinking about what I would cook for dinner that night and how badly the dog needed a bath. Suddenly there was a piercing screech from the backseat. "STOP!!!" I jumped as far into the air as my seat belt would allow and fought the urge to slam my foot down on the brake as I frantically searched all the car mirrors for the source of our impending doom. "What is it, Jack?!" I gasped, heart hammering against my ribcage. He pointed casually out the window, oblivious to my distress. "Cow."