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It’s a good thing my identity isn’t in my wheels

Last week, as we were standing in the pick-up line, O. queried, “Which car is yours, Miss. M.?”

I pointed out my it-was-a-great-deal-but-not-at-all-cool car in the parking lot.

“Oh, that’s really an old lady car.”  Thanks, O.

Today (again in the pick-up line) I mentioned that we might need to be flexible with tomorrow’s field trip driving.  “What if you have to drive us all in your old lady car?” asked an alarmed L.

S. asked, “Oh, which car is Miss M’s?”  (It was pointed out.) “Oh, that’s not an old lady car.  My grandpa drove that car before his aneurysm.”

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About secondinaseriesofsix

My job and my family keep me inspired and laughing by turns. Here's a taste.

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