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I can't stop thinking about that dream. Now that I have some perspective, and feel empowered for the first time in my life, here's how it would go, if I was back there, and having that dream again:

After mom left us in the car, and we had waited a reasonable amount of time (10 minutes is long enough, I think, for children who are still so small), I would calmly unbuckle Kyle's seatbelt and my own, and climb out of the car, and stand on the curb holding my brother's hand. Then I would give that ugly old car a good, angry kick, and watch it roll away down the hill. Before it even crashed at the bottom, I would be gone, looking for someone else to take care of us. Because I knew, in my heart, that our mother was never coming back.