Halloween is all about the scares. Well, the scares and the dressing up. Okay, the scares, the dressing up and the candy. Fine, fine. It’s all about the candy, with some dressing up and some scares thrown in. And a lot of laughs. You know what? Skip it.
I still want to talk about the scares, though.
Here’s the set up. We’ve got three cars and four drivers in the house right now. Sarcasmo takes the cheap, older, safe car we bought for the young dudes to school every day because he also drives a neighbor and a friend of the young dudes to school. Which makes Zippy the Monkey Boy insanely jealous. See, he wants to drive the car as well.
Being the munificent, wonderful father that I am (stop laughing!), I will — on occasion — allow myself to be stranded at home so Zippy the Monkey Boy can drive my car to school. I was going to give him my stylish and very cool minivan (stop laughing!) to drive to school yesterday, but realized I was going to need it to go to an appointment. Then I had a brain flash.
I’d go to my appointment, then drop off the minivan at Zippy the Monkey Boy’s school and run/walk home. I’d get a little exercise and Zippy the Monkey Boy would get to drive a car home by himself. The plan fell through when I realized two things: 1) I didn’t really want to run/walk home and 2) it was raining so I couldn’t run/walk home. So, instead, I decided to drive to Zippy the Monkey Boy’s school, park the car in his parking space and then lay down in the back seat so none of his friends would see me, which would allow my son to drive away like the king of the road he sees himself as.
Which started out great and then got even greater. For me. I parked the car, hunkered down in the back seat, took out a book, started to read and then wait. Eventually, Zippy the Monkey Boy came out to the car. He walked to the driver’s side door, then walked back around the car. He looked right at the back window and I figured he must have seen me. He then walked around to the passenger door and opened it up to put his book bag on the seat.
At which point, he said, disgustedly, “Nice parking job, Dad.”
“What?” I asked from the back seat. “It’s in your space.”
Zippy the Monkey Boy squealed like a little girl, dropped his book bag on ground and stumbled away from the car, falling on his butt. “What? What? What?” he said, sticking his head inside the car.
Apparently, he hadn’t seen me through the rear window and didn’t know I was there.
“That wasn’t funny,” he said.
I tried to agree with him, but I was laughing too hard to talk.
At least he got to drive home. And I got a good, good laugh. Of course, now he’s not talking to me because he assumes it was on purpose. Hmmmm. Maybe that’s an upside as well.