I am not a car person. By that, I mean I don't know anything about them. Don't care to. Don't notice what other people drive. Don't care what I drive as long as it doesn't embarrass me . . . and has a/c and a cd player. :o)Kevie-poo has been driving for some 10 weeks now. He does not like driving. Neither does my daughter. I don't get it. I really like driving. I love road trips. I want to be the one behind the wheel. The cowboy says it's because I'm a control freak. I think it's because my brain is so used to multi-tasking I don't know what to do with myself when I am in passenger-mode. Anyway . . . I credit Kevin's lack of enthusiasm for driving to two factors: 1) He is driving my green Taurus, not exactly the coolest car on the block, and 2) I don't allow him to listen to music during this training phase. And since Kevin is all about the tunes, he would rather I drive so he can jam. All this blogging about cool cars reminds me of my first car: A red 'vette. Seriously. Was given to me when I was 19. (Hey, didn't Prince sing a song about that?) She was pretty. Two-door. Gray interior. Keyless ignition. Dull paint job. Used more oil than gas. Cool hatchback. Oh, did you think "CORvette"? I meant "CHEvette". The best thing about it was if you pedalled really hard, you could hit 55 going downhill, just like the Flintstones! And the keyless ignition just meant it was so worn out that you could start it just by turning the ignition-thingy. Which, being a college student, was kinda handy because 
I didn't have to carry around my keys with me. However, once my guy friends at the student center discovered this quirky little issue about my 'vette I started "losing" my car. Or rather, they started "stealing" my car and hiding it in various places around campus. So, I would leave class on a rainy day, run to the parking lot to jump in my car only to find . . . no car. Well, lots of cars, actually . . . just not mine! So, there I would stand in the middle of campus, looking very Sissy-Spacek-in-Carrie-like (just soaked in rain, not pig's blood), pitifully wondering which direction to go to start looking for my lost little vehicle. Nothing quite like practical jokes and good friends.
My son honked at an old lady today, and I was proud. Seriously. He had already asked me not to make him drive on this particular road because of the ridiculous traffic, but I felt he was ready for it and needed the experience. I love being right.
Speaking of right, he was turning that direction. “She” was across from him and turning left. She did not have her wheels turned, nor did she have her blinker on. The light turned green. Kevin turned right into the right lane. The blue-haired lady turned left . . . into the right lane. Kevin stopped hard and fast, honked loud and long, and saved his mommy’s life. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but he definitely avoided a nasty little accident. Yea, Kevie-poo!
So after this and his drum lesson (where his instructor had a killer-headache and wasn’t exactly in a good mood), we decided Happy Hour at Sonic was just what he needed. We placed our order for two large vanilla cokes with no ice, then Kevin said, “I’m gonna rest my head on the steering wheel. Tell me when she comes out.”
So, being the good mother that I am, I waited 3 seconds and said, “Here she is.” Which she was not. He looked up and then growled at me.
He put his head back down. I waited another 6 or 8 seconds and said, “Kev.” (Implying her impending arrival with the aforementioned drinks.) He looked up, realized he’d been duped again and replied, “Mother!”
Again, down with his little head. About 12 seconds later I said, “HERE we go!” which again prompted him to lift his head and then look at me with disdain. “Just for that,” he stated, “I am freezing you out!” Then he rolled down my window and turned on the air conditioner. Mind you, it was 37 degrees outside.
After a little begging and pleading and a lot of wrestling and laughing, he rolled up my window, turned off the a/c and put his head back down on the steering wheel. He warned me not to do it again and then mumbled something about "ending me with his wrath".
“Kev,” I said. He did NOT look up. “Seriously, honey.” So, he looked up. Seeing no Sonic employee, he declared his intense displeasure for my existence, and declared he wished he had not previously saved my life from the blue-haired lady.
“BUT I GAVE BIRTH TO YOU!” I proclaimed.
“Now we’re even,” he stated flatly.
“EVEN?” I proceeded to describe 10 hours of labor and the size of a 7-pound baby’s head, which caused him to further regret my existence.
I love being a mom.
Did you know the word "gullible" is not in the dictionary?
My kids love to pick on each other. I don't know where they get it from, but regardless . . . the last weekend Kacey was home, Kevin had her convinced he was left-handed. (Kacey is 21, Kevin is 14) She was so befuddled that she got out of bed, marched into the den with her hands on her hips and said, "He is NOT left-handed . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IS HE?????" Of course, he is not, and she KNEW that, he just made it so convincing that she began to doubt herself.
So, Kevin was talking to Kacey, this time on the phone the night before our road trip to Texas. He was moaning about all the school work he was going to have to do in the car. She was telling him to suck it up and do the work like a man, and he said something like,
"That's easy for you to say . . . you don't have to dissect a frog in the car!"
"You don't either, you goofball."
"YES I DO!"
"Kevin, you can't dissect a frog in the car. Why don't you just do it when you come back on Monday?"
"Because I have to label all the parts and make a diagram and email it to ReighAnne (biology teacher) by Friday night!"
"Kevin, you are such a liar!"
"Kacey, I'm serious. I've got to dissect this stupid frog in the car on the way to Texas!"
"Seriously???"
"Yes, Kacey. Oh, and by the way, I'm left-handed."
At this point, I can hear Kacey giving him "what for" for making her feel gullible yet again. I thought it was a riot! Is it okay to be proud of a kid for being a good liar? Probably not, huh?
To preface this next story, I almost never wear sunglasses. They make me feel claustrophobic. But I bought a new pair for this 12-hour car trip, and I put them in my purse which was in the floor at Kevin's feet. After a few hours in the car he wanted to stretch a bit, so he put my purse in the back seat. I said, "Before you get too comfortable, we're about to turn west so I'm going to need my glasses out of my purse."
"Huh?" was his response.
So I repeat myself, speaking slowly this time, "We're . . . about . . . to . . . turn . . . west . . . so . . . I'm . . . going . . . to . . . need . . . my . . . glasses . . . out . . . of . . . my . . . purse."
"WHY do you need your glasses when we turn west????" he asks with a quizzical look."Well, Kevin, a SMART person would KNOW the answer to that question. Why DO YOU think?"
"I don't know. Do the letters on the signs get smaller in the west?"
At this point I start laughing hysterically, as I realize the whole conversation he thought I was talking about my EYEglasses and I assumed he knew I needed my SUNglasses!
Communication is a wonderful thing, ain't it?
I didn't have to carry around my keys with me. 
