Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Master of the Minivan

Our mini-van tells a story. I am proud the vehicle has been covered with Obama signs and delivered the kids and me safely to Indiana to campaign for our boy Barack...I treasure the fact it's shattered back window decorated with a bobble headed buffalo provided a fitting end to a wild west road trip... the dent on the side always reminds me of the dinner where Emma and Finn sold me down the river for hitting the lamp post in our alley...

This week I am just a chauffeur. I am in the car every two hours from 8:30am-5:30pm shuttling people from soccer to ballet, from doctor's appointments to community meetings. I have one ear tuned into NPR to make sure I am up on my current events and have my other ear tuned into the conversations between my passengers...Emma admitting to her confusion over her need for nude tights even though she has nude legs and Finn throwing off his stinky shin guards, shoving half a sandwich down his throat all the while lamenting that the bossy Academy girls clearly have a crush on him. Today I learned that under certain conditions Fizz-Its yougurt will explode...
These car days are strange; they go by quickly and I never really feel like I've gone anywhere, but if I stand back and think about it, I know with each little trip I am just adding to the miles of memories I have already put on our trusty suburban ride.

Gotta Fly!

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