In her car seat, Monkey2 sits on the rear passenger side, which gives her window access (a place for all the doctor's office stickers) and a curbside exit whenever we park on a street. In her matching pink throne, Monkey1 has the middle seat position, which gives her more leg room, not having a seat immediately in front of her, as well as an open view of the road and the dashboard.
Monkey1 is figuring out road signs. She'll ask if I am going the speed limit. Sometimes she'll tell me I'm going too fast.
So my husband and I joke about our backseat driver.
One day Monkey1 decided that she needed a steering wheel, so from her play kitchen she brought a pink plastic dish decorated with flowers.
Soon she was telling me that she was driving faster than I was. After a minute of this, I figured out that she equated speed with how much the steering wheel was moving. Since we were on a straight road, my steering wheel was hardly moving, while hers was violently turning every which way. She couldn't see my feet or the pedals, which I then briefly explained to her. Of course she ignored this information and continued to tell me that I was driving too slow. I pointed out the speed limit signs and otherwise ignored the jabber.
At this point Monkey2 jumped into the conversation, telling Monkey1 that she was driving too fast. Telling? No, more like crying out in protest of such flagrant disregard for Mom's safety.
Monkey1 replied by hitting her sister with the steering wheel.
So I confiscated it.
I think we picked Dad up from work that day. "Why is there a pink plate in my seat?"
No comments:
Post a Comment