We went out to dinner the other night. The older girls were at a friends house, so it was just the little ones with us.
In the van on the way to the restaurant, my husband and I got into a discussion that went something like this:
"These kids are just trashing this van," I say, looking out the window at the passing cars.
"Yeah," my husband says, not really listening to me.
"Have you seen the side panel back there?" I speak a little louder, so as to encourage him to join my discussion.
"No," he grunts. He doesn't want to talk about this.
"Someone has kicked the panel out of that door," I gesture to the door directly behind my seat. "Someone needs to fix that door," I say in that tone that means ... I need you to fix that door. My husband, looking straight ahead, grunts again and shakes his head.
We go on for a few minutes discussing (I talk, my husband listens) the fact that the van only has about 50K miles on it and it will be paid off in less than 6 months.
My son, sitting directly behind my husband, decides to join in on this vehicle discussion and asks, "How long are you gonna keep this car, Mom?"
"Well ... probably until all you kids are gone. Not that I want to be driving it that long ... but I am not buying another van. Especially with the way you all treat them," I say, but don't look back.
My son then says, "So then after that, you can get a new car?"
"Yeah, I guess that would be the time," I look over at my husband, who is now listening to the conversation and smiling.
"Then you can get a Ferrari," my son says most confidently - as if this is a logical suggestion. "Or a Maserati," he then adds softly as he's gazing out his window.
I look back ... to see if this is a joke or try to determine if he is serious. He's serious. I say, "Yeah. Then I can get a Ferrari," and look over at my husband and he just smiles (*isn't our boy funny*).
As this depressing conversation comes to a close, we pull into the parking lot of the fast food restaurant; my son in a delusional daze, my husband contently proud of his boy (because he's so funny and knows all his important cars), my little daughter clueless as to what is going on other than it's time to go eat, and me ... I am smack in the middle of reality (all by myself, as usual) - climbing out the door of a van, as I have done everyday for the past 15 years. Lights fade.
On the upside ... I only have F-I-F-T-E-E-N more years ... then I can get that Ferrari. Or maybe a Maserati ... I'm just a-countin' the days.