Dented Cars and New Shoes
To everyone in the __________ area, general apologies:
If your car has a dent with a trace of white paint in it, look no further for the culprit. I'm your girl. Or, rather, my girls are your girls. My kids really good at whipping open the car door and *ding*. I promise I remind them not to. I promise I scold them. It just is so hard to control.
Oh, don't worry, it's never more than a small dimple, or a fleck of paint. We're not THAT bad. I've got the same kind of mementos on my car. I don't notice them, don't think its that big of a deal really. My husband tells me that people care about their cars? What? You mean you actually look at your car sometimes, instead of rushing pell-mell to and from it with armfuls of water bottles, wipes refills and snack bags of raisins, buckling buckles and yelling at someone to hurry up and someone else to put their coat ON-its-the-WINTERTIME-for-pete's-sake?
Oh yes, so I'm trying to say sorry. Because you probably care. Like my husband who looks at our dents and sighs, saying, "Well, I know we deserve it from all the ones you (ahem, my kids!) have given to other people."
Whatever. I would hate to have a pristinely perfect car. I'd be too paranoid that I'd . . .well, dent it!
It's like when I was younger and I'd get a new blindingly white pair of Keds. I'd walk around so gingerly, stopping every so often, licking my finger, bending over and wiping off a speck of dirt. I'd be so annoyed at that first, un-cleanable stain! And all the time I'd be wishing that they'd just hurry up and get uniformly dirty, so I wouldn't have to worry about them any more.
Moral of the story, dear folks of the area, please stop caring about your cars, so I can stop feeling bad about every month when the time comes for a child-from-car ejection and your poor vehicle is within door's reach.
Thanks.
Sincerely yours,
M.T.
P.S. Ya'll should really talk to my anti-mini van husband about getting me one, how about that? Those sliding doors must be heaven on a mother's nerves.
If your car has a dent with a trace of white paint in it, look no further for the culprit. I'm your girl. Or, rather, my girls are your girls. My kids really good at whipping open the car door and *ding*. I promise I remind them not to. I promise I scold them. It just is so hard to control.
Oh, don't worry, it's never more than a small dimple, or a fleck of paint. We're not THAT bad. I've got the same kind of mementos on my car. I don't notice them, don't think its that big of a deal really. My husband tells me that people care about their cars? What? You mean you actually look at your car sometimes, instead of rushing pell-mell to and from it with armfuls of water bottles, wipes refills and snack bags of raisins, buckling buckles and yelling at someone to hurry up and someone else to put their coat ON-its-the-WINTERTIME-for-pete's-sake?
Oh yes, so I'm trying to say sorry. Because you probably care. Like my husband who looks at our dents and sighs, saying, "Well, I know we deserve it from all the ones you (ahem, my kids!) have given to other people."
Whatever. I would hate to have a pristinely perfect car. I'd be too paranoid that I'd . . .well, dent it!
It's like when I was younger and I'd get a new blindingly white pair of Keds. I'd walk around so gingerly, stopping every so often, licking my finger, bending over and wiping off a speck of dirt. I'd be so annoyed at that first, un-cleanable stain! And all the time I'd be wishing that they'd just hurry up and get uniformly dirty, so I wouldn't have to worry about them any more.
Moral of the story, dear folks of the area, please stop caring about your cars, so I can stop feeling bad about every month when the time comes for a child-from-car ejection and your poor vehicle is within door's reach.
Thanks.
Sincerely yours,
M.T.
P.S. Ya'll should really talk to my anti-mini van husband about getting me one, how about that? Those sliding doors must be heaven on a mother's nerves.
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