P,
I only wish I could take your offer of a drag race at the earliest opportunity, but, unfortunately, as I have a firm belief that the size of a mother’s rear end soon correlates to that of her minivan posterior, I feel more compelled to do some measuring instead. I leave it to your good and obvious research abilities to figure out who might consider downsizing.
I have noticed you staring with unabashed curiosity at my new vehicle. Hadn’t mentioned it precisely b/c I was unable, in the ’06 model, to get the walnut inlay on the steering vehicle. Had imagined that such a luxury would make it seem less motherly somehow. It was if I could look in the handy childview mirror while driving and each time be surprised to see four cherubs strapped into their age appropriate safety seats. Alas, you are always able to immediately zero in upon my precise worry and provide such a focused, if not supportive, response. It is, as you must know, why we are so compatible.
All this philosophizing reminds me of the story hubby’s M.D. recently relayed while talking him out of the vasectomy we so desperately need. Dr. Killjoy (but not sperm apparently) asked him why he would consider having such a procedure when his entire familial unit could be killed in our minivan on our way to Sunday school. "Where would this leave hubby?" the good Dr. inquired. The next wife may want cherubs too and it just wasn’t fair to her. Setting aside this very patronizing dr.’s view of our humble Christian family and how much I relish the second wife imposed upon by even more cherubs, I am amazed and delighted that hubby insisted on the safest van to ferry us from here to there. What do you think the oldballandchain has in mind with your second-rate chariot?
Faithfully,
C.
