My five-year-old is sitting next to me on the couch, curled up with his head on my shoulder. It’s early, and we’re both still sleepy. But clutched in his hands is a Hot Wheels monster truck. Because, if you’re Joshua, it’s never too early for Hot Wheels.
Since he’s turned five, Joshua has developed an intense interest in and love for cars. He comes by it honestly, since my husband works on cars for a living and also loves cars. As a matter of fact I can blame hubby for this little obsession, since it started when he and Joshua began playing racing video games together as a reward for Joshua. He loved identifying all the different cars in the game, and now, unfortunately, he loves identifying all the cars on the road we see when we’re driving.
Very loudly. And with much excitement.
“Mommy LOOKLOOKLOOK there’s a Chevy MALIBU!” I hear as I’m navigating the roads of our fair city. (Yes, he gets excited over even the most mundane of cars.)
“Mustang!!”
“HONDA CIVIC!”
“A Lexus! A Lexus!”
He gets very upset when I don’t see the cars also. My explanation that I need to keep my eyes on the road isn’t good enough. And at times when his exasperation at me borders on rudeness, I want to flipping put a blindfold and a muzzle on the kid for car rides! The constant dialogue of every car Joshua can see while we are driving down the road is making me NUTSO. A couple of months ago when Bobby and I drove to Chicago sans kiddos, I demanded that he remain mum about the other cars on the road. “I don’t care if you see a ’79 Trans Am,” I said, “Not a word.”
I miss the times when the kids just listened to music and sang and Joshua pointed out the odd airplane or helicopter he saw in the sky.
‘Cause really, I cannot get myself all worked up about a 1998 Chevy Cavalier.
But my son can. And if you drive ANY year of Mustang, you are a superhero to him. So congrats on that. You are much cooler than the impatient, carsick woman who chauffeurs Joshua the car officianado around town.
