[ back ]
Dad gets polished up on back-seat position
(by Christine Thome - September 11, 2008)
Dad gets polished up on back-seat position
The good news is that I now have a 16-year-old daughter who is more than happy to drive the entire 4 1/2-hour trip to my parents' home in Michigan. The bad news is that I now have a 42-year-old husband who insists on sitting in the back with the other three children and creating more havoc than a bus load of kindergartners who have just each consumed a pound of pure sugar.
"I have been waiting my entire life for this day," said my husband, John.
"Your entire life?" I inquired.
"Well, the last 16 years," he admitted. "Having kids is finally paying off. Jess can drive, Jack can do yard work, and the twins can wash cars. I love being a dad!"
"So if they've taken away all your jobs, what are you going to do?" I asked nervously, fearing he might want to spend more time with me.
"I'm going to sit back and enjoy -- beginning tomorrow when we drive to your parents." he answered. "Jess said she would drive, so I'll sit in the back with the other kids. I've already got three seasons of "Two and a Half Men" downloaded on my I-Pod. Can I bring a six-pack of beer too?"
"Absolutely not!" I yelled.
"You're right. It will be too early in the morning. I'll make a thermos of Bloody Marys instead."
I knew he was kidding, kind of, but I also knew he was planning to take full advantage of his new seating arrangement.
"I'm not sitting with Dad," my son demanded as soon as he heard about the car situation.
"Yes, you are," I said. "The twins will sit in back, and you and your father can sit in the middle row. Don't argue with me." I didn't ask for a fifth child. Why was I being punished?
We weren't even on the highway yet when John plugged his ear phones into his ears and began laughing very loudly at the first of many episodes of "Two and a Half Men" that only he could hear.
"He's such a dork," my son said, throwing a pillow over his head to drown out his father's annoying laughter.
"What did he say?" John yelled.
"He said you're a dork, and he's right," I told him after motioning to him to take out the ear plugs and turn down the volume.
Boys will be boys, and, after that comment, it became a game between them to see who could turn on each other's seat heaters without the other knowing, who could get better leg placement, who could use the most cup holders and, in general, who could annoy me the most.
Like a toddler in his terrible-2 stage, John's bad behavior finally wore him out about halfway into the trip, and he fell asleep, providing some much-needed peace and quiet for the rest of us.
With his extremely large, hairy, stinky feet stretched between my daughter and me in the front seat, it became apparent to both of us what we must do.
"There's hot pink nail polish in my purse," she said with a sly grin.
"Gotcha!" I said as I removed the nail polish and very gently began to paint John's toenails so as not to wake him.
"Do you think he'll 'toe' the line next time he wants to sit back there?" Jess asked me, laughing at her metaphor.
"He's always had one toe over the line. Why would he start behaving now?" I replied honestly as I admired my handiwork.
Michigan might be the mitten state, but last weekend it was all about the toes.
[ back ]
