The thing I love about kids and cars is they're strapped in, and have nothing to do, or break, so they just talk. I think that might be why my parents loved road trips so much, and now I do. The following is a conversation I caught on to while driving my kids and the neighbor kid home from school. It was the longest 1/2 mile drive I've had in a while. Please, when reading, read in 5-year-old tone. They were yapping for a while before something caught my attention:
"MY mom has a tattoo on her foot. It's a butterfly. It's drawn on there and it will stay on there for ever. Someone used PERMANENT marker on it."
"Oh...well MY mom has a volleyball tattoo. Right mom?"
"It's not a tattoo, Lucy."
"Yes it is, Max, it's on there forEVER. Right Mom?"
"Yes, that's right, Mommy was silly in college."
"Where's your mom's tattoo?"
"It's on her.......butt."
"MY HIP. IT'S ON MY HIP!" I didn't have the courage to explain that although my hips sag enough to possibly merge into my butt, the tattoo is on my hip. I swear. Now everybody out of the car.
That's how I roll.
