I know, I know. You have given up on me because I have basically fallen off of the planet.
But here, cute baby picture. That shall distract you and make up for the absence, right?
Yes. He is sitting up all over the place, frequently crashing his head down onto the floor — and Knobby thinks that hardwood versus carpet would make no difference in the fallout, but believe the Pixy, THEY DO –, and perfecting his army crawl.
In the time it took me to enter approximately three codes in MyCokeRewards, he made it from the guest bedroom, down the hall corner, and into the laundry room.
He is a Minion on a mission.
And that mission seems to be: tear my house apart.
Also: we bought a new car. Just a second car.
Knobby was going out of town last weekend, and I made the mistake of mentioning to Mom if I could bring the extra car at my parents’ house over, just in case there was some Minion emergency while he was away.
Well. Knobby has mad amounts of Self-Sufficiency Testosterone, and my asking to borrow the car . . . well, testosterone skyrocketed.
He’s been aggravated when we have found ourselves lately in need of another car . . . taking the Jeep to service, twice, and the one time we had accidentally made appointments on the same day at the same time and he was all “I’m going to WALK to the dentists office” (yeah . . . No, you’re not.). These incidents have occurred extremely infrequently . . . and I know it’s a pain to not have some backupmobile and having to rent a car and all that . . .
I also did not really feel all that thrilled about paying for another car. Who would.
He kept sending links to random cars he had found . . . I thought if I ignored them and shot down enough of them, he’d drop the subject and we’d continue on our merry one-car-household way. Because . . . when your husband works from home and you are a hobbit housewife . . . you just don’t need two cars.
But the car links kept coming. He wanted a Camaro 2SS . . . I said no, because I may have to drive it at some point and I’ve sat in one and discovered I cannot see out of that thing. No. So then, he tried to tempt me with a little Mini Cooper S that was my ideal color and stripes and everything.
But y’all. No. I did not want to pay for a car!
I was overruled by the Self-Sufficiency Testosterone, however. Since this second “car” just needed to be a glorified go-cart . . . for very little use . . . eventually we agreed that we would either buy the hilarious buggy little Chevy Spark, or a VW Jetta. The new Jetta . . . I find really boring compared to my beloved 2001 chugachug Jetta . . . but . . . it was cheap, it came with three years of maintenance . . . and . . . it was cheap.
I dropped him off at the VW lot, but didn’t leave before I had done a small circle and fell in love with a TTS and in desperation, a beautiful gray S3. I left with the Minion, as he would drive home the new car and I didn’t really care to sit around the dealership while he filled out all the paperwork and all that. I dictated, one or seventeen times, that we were buying the basest of the base models they had on the lot. Give him your cheapest Jetta, GO.
I may have entertained a brief miniscule fantasy that he would return with that TTS instead of the Jetta.
Brief, miniscule, financially irresponsible, that fantasy. But it was so cute. It made me want to whine for it like the Minion.
The Jetta came up our driveway, however, and no matter if it WAS just a boring new Jetta, I did go out to inspect the new car with the Minion. Handed him off, got into the car . . .
. . . and . . .
“Wait. YOU HAVE TO USE A KEY?????”
. . . followed by . . .
“AND YOU HAVE TO TURN THE LIGHTS ON YOURSELF????”
. . . and . . .
“Oh my gosh, there is no BACKUP CAMERA???? Who doesn’t have a backup camera????”
I think it is hilarious . . . my “BASE BASE BASE, CHEAPEST MODEL” turned “YOU HAVE TO USE A KEY???????”. What third world country is this Jetta FROM????
(I did end up driving it to my voice lesson, though. We survived. And despite all the lack of features . . . it reminded me of my high school and college cars. So . . . I will always joke about having to use a key . . . but . . . it is just fine.)