So, The Mama and The Dada broke down this weekend. We bought a new (to us) car. And we took The Kidling.
After muffins for breakfast.
After a 9:30 am birthday party.
After a doughnut.
After a cupcake.
After a drive to Nearby City.
Then we started car shopping. Yep. We totally asked for it. But The Kidling didn’t deliver. Not on “it” anyway. She was patient and charming for more hours than The Parents could have possibly hoped. It helped that it was a gorgeous day. And that the dealerships had popcorn. And that our new friend Bill where we made our purchase brought out a Little Debbie Zebra Cake when the paperwork was taking a bit longer to finish than The Kidling might have liked.
But this story really takes place a smidge earlier in the day (post-cupcake, pre-popcorn bag #1, in case you are keeping track). We were peering inside of a few cars and hopping into a few more to check them out. In each vehicle, the same situation played out: The Kidling was pre-occupied with the back seat. I can’t say I blame her. She spends all of her vehicle miles traveled in one, she sees parts of the world exclusively through the shroud of headrests and small windows, she stores her books and notebooks in a tiny side pocket, and let’s face it: she spills shit everywhere. She needs to know how much shit she’ll be in when said shit hits the seat.
So, she crawled around in the back, testing the wares. Most cars we checked out seemed to fit her needs. That is, until The Mama peeked into the back seat of a Porsche.
What? I can’t look?
This particular sporty number had a hideous interior. Really, really ugly. While I cannot name the precise color, I can give you an analogy.
Mustard is to yellow as _____________ is to orange
Not pretty, right? I commented on the oddly terrible color, which set Alice into motion, inquiring “What, Mom? What is it? What’s terrible?” I told her to look inside and asked what she thought of the color. She glanced in and immediately declared, “It’s wonderful! (pause) But there’s nowhere to sit?!”
So we didn’t get the Porsche. I guess we’ll have to wait until she moves out.