The Midget Mobile and the Mud Monster's Trip to the Bank

I am such a snob.


Three years ago, I would have told you that I am SO not ever driving a minivan. Now, I’m a minivan snob. I love my Odyssey, and I miss her dearly.

I asked the boys the other day what happened to Mommy’s van. Charlie said, “Van got boo boo.” Cooper piped in “and Mommy cried.”

The boys’ version of what actually happened isn’t so far off. The part they left out is that about two weeks ago, we got rear ended twice and got stranded on an icy road -- at night, during a ice/snow storm (yes, here in Charlotte!) I didn’t just cry – I panicked. It was just me and the boys, stranded, jutting out in an intersection, on a road that had been shut down on one side by 4 other car accidents (the ice and snow made the road practically impassable). For two hours I held my breath praying that no other cars would slam into us. (And because there were 3 boys and only 1 me, I couldn’t take them out of the van either). The happy ending to this story is that we were rescued by one of Brian’s partners who lived nearby (thank you Scott), and the boys and I were fine. Actually, I think the boys enjoyed the adventure. They got to stay up WAY past their bedtime, after all…

Back to me being a snob... So while the van is in the shop, I’m stuck with a rental made for midgets. I can barely squeeze into the back to the third row, let alone while manhandling a toddler refusing to get into his car seat. Jeesh. Counting the days til I get my van back. I’ll never speak ugly of her again.


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And while I’m being a grouch, let me tell you about my afternoon.

When the boys got up from their naps, it was a balmy 53 degrees outside, and I even saw sunshine. Let’s go to the park!! The boys were super excited. We loaded into the midget mobile, and off we went. But by the time we got to the park, it was pouring, and I swear the temperature dropped 10 degrees. We sat in the park’s parking lot for a few minutes:

Me: Sorry boys! We’ve got to go back home. It’s raining and cold!

Charlie, Zach, and Cooper, in unison: NO!! Park!! Play at park! Park Park Park Park!!”

Me: But it’s cold and rain---

The Boys: PAAAAAAAAAARK!!

OK, fine. See how much you like being cold and wet. I gave them 3 minutes, tops.

We were there at least 20. Maybe 30 minutes. They didn’t seem to notice the rain, and Charlie refused to wear his hood the whole time. They kept telling me that the slide was wet, and Zach kept pointing out that Charlie’s hair was wet. Go figure.

Eventually I convinced them that we’d have much more fun in our dry and warm playroom. We get home, and the boys are soaked. I stripped Zach’s and Charlie’s clothes inside, while Cooper (who refused to come in and unbeknownst to me) was playing in Lake Poodah and had become soaked with mud.

It’s now 4:40. The phone rings. It’s my husband (who I really do love very dearly), telling me that I need to run over to the bank and get his passport out of our safety deposit box. (No, he isn’t fleeing the country away from us, just needed it in lieu of his expired driver’s license to get on an airplane tomorrow morning at 7 a.m.). He reminds me that the bank closes at 5.

Are you freaking kidding??

So, in about 2 minutes, I dug up the safety deposit key, threw some random clothes and mismatched shoes on Zach and Charlie, yanked Cooper out of Lake Poodah, strapped everyone into the midget mobile, and took off like a bat out of hell.

The boys were so excited! “More park!!! Yay! More park!!”

Oh dear. Sorry boys, it's just Wachovia. We arrived at 5:01, and the very nice manager let us in.  I'm not sure he knew what to think of us: a sweating and very frazzled mom, a child wearing 2 left shoes, a mud monster, and another kid trailing behind apparently looking for a slide.

When it was all said and done, the boys were sure impressed by shiny bank floors and the security deposit vault. EVEN more than the park in the rain. Maybe we can come back to the bank tomorrow, I tell them.