Monday, September 7, 2009


I am beginning to realize our trusty family minivan is good for a few things. The biggest most obvious feature is its ability to carry and tote a large amount of both people and things. Our family spends a great deal of time in the car. With Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt Annie and assorted cousins just over an hour away, often times by the end of the weekend our family minivan looks more like a family minihotel after a particularly festive room party, only for the more selective (and surprisingly temperamental) sippy cup carrying, juice box discarding sector of society. I've recently cleaned the van, though, so for at least the next couple weeks it will look like housekeeping has recently knocked on the door and come through.

Our van is also good for some interesting conversation. At some point or another, pretty much every topic under the sun has been discussed, from how tires are made to which airplane is the fastest. Often from the back seat a small-ish voice can be heard saying, "Mom?" or if it is the weekend and we are out together as a family, "Dad?" Rules state that either mom or dad is required to verbally acknowledge this inquisition before the conversation can continue. Rules also state that there are no guarantees what you will hear when the conversation does continue.

For example, the family was out in the trusty hotel on wheels minivan last week when from the back seat came the telltale, "Mom?"

"What, Smooch?"

"Maximus* got some really hot chicks."

From the driver's seat I look at Bonehead. Did I just hear what I thought I heard? Judging from the way Bonehead was looking out the window and hiding a smirk, I'm fully thinking I actually heard what I thought I heard.

A quick glance in my rear view mirror assured me that yes, in fact, I did still have a sweet little 7 year old sitting in my back seat. Thankfully I did not drive us through some sort of freaky time-space continuum or somehow Rip Van Winkle myself 16 years into the future.

Preparing some kind of mental speech about respecting girls, and how calling them 'chicks' or any other similar name really wouldn't be looked favorably upon by anyone including mom, dad, and any girl he ever comes in contact with, I felt the need to verify. "What did you just say, Smooch?"

"I said Hot. As in spicy."

By this point I was completely speechless. I truly didn't even know where to start. Fortunately for me, he felt the need to continue speaking.

"Maximus* got some hot chips. At lunch today"

It was at this point in our drive that Smooch had to sit and wonder why his mom was having such a laughing fit in the driver's seat.

*names have been changed to protect the innocent


Mom said...

And why his Grammy is currently squeaking if he was here. LOL thanks I need that.

for a different kind of girl said...


My minivan used to be the place I hid Christmas presents until my youngest realized it, and now nowhere is safe.

Honey Mommy said...

What a funny story!

I so need a minivan!

Don't forget to check out my Fisher Price Tough Trike giveaway! (ends Sept. 27)