Well, it’s time to face the music. It’s happening. We’re getting one.
38 years of raging against the idea of a minivan. 38 years of telling myself I’ll never be “that woman”. You know the one. The one with more children than sense. The one with raisins in her hair. The one who thinks her child’s scribbles are works of art. The one who’s always shushing her children in restaurants. The one whose house is slowly filling with cheap McDonald’s toys. The one who drives (gulp) a minivan.
Excuse #1. Goodbye Old Friend. We’ve been driving a Jeep Grand Cherokee for seven years. It’s been a great car for us but it has 106,000 miles on it and the back speakers are shot (Backyardigans theme song must therefore be played at volume 10 from the front to reach the children. Husband loves this.) The air conditioning is a little odd smelling and the heating on the feet is mediocre at best. I frequently drive other people’s children to various activities and, as there’s no room for a third car seat, I have to strap Big Brother in the center with a lap belt. Probably not the safest. We have a typically Marblehead sized one-car garage and in order to get in and out of the Jeep you have to shimmy around the open doors. Sliding van doors, a third row, working sound systems, extra storage and all such things minivan would just be much more practical. And, (sigh) I’m apparently all about practical now.
Excuse #2. My uncle is a Toyota dealer. My husband got his first Toyota from the dealership about a year ago and the service has been excellent. My uncle will give me a good price on a good car and I know with 100% certainty that it’s a car he would suggest to his own children. And, if anything goes wrong (like the gas pedal sticks and I run head on into a stone wall), I know they’ll put a shim on the brake pad for me. Kidding. Mostly.
Excuse #3. My minivan will be black. For some reason, I am obsessed with the idea that if I’m getting a freakin’ minivan then, lord help me, it will be black. I seem to think that a black minivan says “I may drive a minivan but it’s a badass color. Like, the color of my clubbing outfits, yo.” Versus a red one which just says “Hi, I’m just another Mom with a minivan.”
Excuse #4. As my friend Missy said to me…Who cares? No one’s looking at you anymore, anyway. Sigh.
Plus, I think that Husband is really hoping to be as cool as this guy behind the wheel.
Confessions of a Serial Swooper 