It’s time for a new car to come to the family. Unfortunately that means shopping for one, then picking one, then signing your life away for one, then sadly turning over the keys to your old one which you love so much because by now the seats have comfortably molded to the shape of your backside and you have finally learned how to parallel park the dang thing. Needless to say, I do not relish any part of this process. Except maybe the new car smell. I love that. But alas, the car shopping has begun. Which led us to the discussion of what we are looking for in a vehicle.
Me: badassery and a zero to sixty of 4 seconds.
Husband: fuel economy, price, and those little buckles for carseats.
Me: Wait, what?! Why do we need those?
Husband: For the kids
Me: Ranger and Tonto can ride in the back. They don’t need buckles or carseats
Husband: But the human kids do. It’s the law.
Me: Whose human kids?
Husband: Our human kids.
Moment of stunned silence while I process this new development.
Me: We don’t have any human kids.
Husband: We could.
Holy cow. As if car shopping weren’t stressful enough, not I have to start fielding questions about creating small humans. I was unprepared for this. When we were dating, we talked about having a family in the general sense: “you want one?” “me too” “okay”. But that was a far as it had gone. Now apparently, it was right around the corner. It’s not that I don’t want or like children, I just find them….sticky. And noisy. And I like sleeping in. And working. And walking around in my underoos. I broke into a cold sweat at the thought of trading in my very casual, no rules life for one of mashed peas and moulded plastic. Ick. I longed to go back to car shopping. I think Husband saw my horrified face and tried to backtrack.
Husband: I mean, not now, just that we’ll probably have kids during the lifetime of this new car.
Me: Nice try. Not helping.
Husband: We can talk about this later.
Me: good call. I think I’m going to be sick.
So the discussion was tabled. Until I discovered how badly he really wanted a baby and how badly I really wanted a Range Rover. I proposed a Range Rover in exchange for raising a small human. Negotiations have now begun.
In case you got lost in the middle, the moral of the story is, car shopping is a Pandora’s Box. Drive that thing till it dies, then hold it together with bailing wire, then start taking the bus. But for the love of Pete, don’t go car shopping. You might end up with a baby.
As a disclaimer, I’m not actually a horrible person and I do take motherhood very seriously. Which is why the Range Rover seemed an appropriate trade. Just kidding. Kinda…