My darling husband has many sterling qualities. He is a wonderful father who reads to his children every night before bedtime. He makes excellent rigatoni.
He is a really great kisser.
But the car he drives hadn’t been cleaned since before Gloria was born in January 2008, coincidentally the last time I rode in it. I just cleaned it out though, lots of bits of paper and empty cigarette packages and old Weekly Standard magazines. Why would I undertake such an endeavour, you may ask? Why, because I will be riding in it again this very evening, thanks to two facts.
Fact the First: Under Oklahoma law, only front-seat occupants and children under 13 need wear seatbelts.
Fact the Second: My oldest child is over five feet tall and therefore big enough to sit in the front seat, even with an airbag.
Leading us to the conclusion: I will be sitting on the floor of the van, recklessly but legally unbelted, as we drive to my parents’ house for dinner. I feel like a sixteen year old, only with grey hair and no abdominal tone.
(Don’t worry, we won’t make a habit of it. It’s just one drive a week.)