After today’s playdate, Tyler’s friend Connor stood before the minivan and stared.
“Mom,” he gasped, “the doors. … They slide!”
“You think that’s something?” I winked and flicked a switch. Out popped the 9-inch DVD player.
We almost had to administer CPR.
All the way home I blasted “Crazy Train” with all four windows rolled down. And I didn’t even turn it down at the red lights.
This week one of my single friends surveyed my kids’ toy room and shook his head. “When I have kids, there’s going to be a rule: one toy at a time. They don’t get to take a new one out until they put the last one away.”
“Brilliant!” I smiled through gritted teeth. “Why didn’t I ever think of that?”
Hopefully, police won’t chance upon the banks of the Connecticut River any time soon.
Today I looked at the speedometer and discovered it goes up to 130 miles per hour. If you see the trail of a silver Kia doing sick donuts in the Stop & Shop parking lot, sweet jumps in front of Bed, Bath & Beyond, and burnouts all the way through the Walgreen’s pharmacy drive-thru, get out of the way. We’re making up for lost time.
Once upon a time, I thought oatmeal cookies were health food. From now on I’ll just dip a stick of butter in a bowl of sugar and chow down. At least I’ll feel true to myself.