Back Britax Driver

 K has started taking an interest in the rules of the road. No longer am I allowed to listen to music and just drive. She's nonstop asking questions. I've educated her on lane markings, turn signals, and highway signs. I've begun instilling in her courtesy and respect for other drivers. Together we read the signs to find our way home. And it's all rather cute. Mostly.

Except when she feels the need for speed, which is becoming far too often. This morning, while waiting safely to turn left, a garbage truck passes by.

"There goes a trash truck. It's like a race. Faster, Mama. Catch up to it."

And scary enough, I find myself accelerating. I want to catch it...for her of course. 

"Hurry, Mama. It's far away."

I speed up. I'm being peer-pressured by a 3 year old. But, luckily the light turns red and reality kicks in. I stop. The trash truck gets away...this time.

We play that game frequently. She locates a car, identifies it and the chase is on. Me driving as fast as I deem safe, her shouting encouraging words. I have to say, I enjoy playing it with the trains the most. With the trains, I know their speed is constant and I only have so much time before the road and the track are no longer parallel. The adrenaline rush as I start closing in on the train is amazing! Both hands tightly on the wheel, I feel my heart pounding...wait, where was I...K's need for speed, right.

When we're not chasing cars, she wants to pass them...all. I believe she subscribes to the Ricky Bobby school of thought, "If you're not first, you're last."

"Mama, we're the car behind, right? So you can go faster."

So I do, usually. I like to make my girl happy.

"Now are we still behind?"

It's a vicious cycle. Eventually I snap out of it and explain that Mama can't go 80 mph though a school zone, that's for the beltway.

I can't wait till she's old enough to drive. That will surely be karmas way of paying me back for the hell I put my father through when I got my license. Good times ahead for sure!

Old and Crotchety

I live next to an empty parking lot. Approximately 5 days a year, the lot is used as overflow parking for the neighborhood festivals. The other 360 days, the lot is not being used for it's intended purpose.

When I first moved to this house, I watched a son and a dad play baseball in the empty parking lot. And I thought to my pregnant self...Geesh! That's just lazy! Can't they walk to a park and play in the grass! When my baby's born, I wont be making her play in a parking lot. I'm above that! I know we live in the city, but come on!

I eat my words.

I love living next to the empty lot. K loves living next to the empty lot. She can ride her bike whenever she wants and all we have to do is walk across the street. We take sidewalk chalk to the lot and create huge masterpieces. We've flown kites in the lot. When there's snow, neighborhood kids flock to the big hill that empties into the lot. And I'm proud to say, we've even used the lot to play soccer and softball.

Last night I did not love the lot. See, there is one problem with living next to an empty parking lot. When the small kids go to bed, the big kids come out to take their turn playing in the lot. And I hate the damn kids for turning me into that old lady, cell phone in hand ready to call the cops. Somehow I don't find it enjoyable to be awoken at 2:45am by morons, drunk no doubt, doing doughnuts in the icy parking lot, tires spinning as loud as possible in an attempt to free their car from the ice. Maybe I'm just becoming old and crotchety. I'm also not a fan of the fireworks displays the empty lot is known for. Or the motorcycle races. Or the truck races. Really, I see no reason for any vehicles to be in the parking lot. I know...its a parking lot...but it's supposed to be an empty parking lot.

That's the beauty of it.