Amy and I are chatting over lunch on Sunday when we overhear Chago saying something about tattoos.
"Are you gonna get a tattoo when you get older, son?" Mommy asks.
"Yes," he says resolutely.
"Where?" she continues, seeing that he's eyeing the Cleo tattoo on her right arm.
"I'm going to get a tattoo on my shoulder that says 'I Love My Saia'."
[All together now...awwwwww.]
On the way into work this morning, pulling up anxiously to a faulty intersection light where everyone must now put their driving skills test into action, put down their coffee, bagel, cellphone, lipstick, and ipod [oh, wait, that's just me], and pay at least minimal attention to who arrived first at the light.
The idiot in the Ford F-150, however, who inarguably pulled up WELL after I did, decides to try to get an early start just as I'm pulling into the intersection. Because I happen to be a safe driver [yes, I am, Amy!!!], I slow down to let the illegal intersection interjector do his thing.
Then I slam on my horn (the one thing about the Durango that I just love), he gives me an FU look, and we both continue on our merry way.
"Why did you honk the horn, Mama?" asks Saia.
[Oh. Perfect opportunity for a lesson in geometry AND etiquette all in one shot!!!]
"Well," I begin, "when we got to the intersection, which is two perpendicular roads shaped like a little 't' like this [I cross my hands], the stoplight wasn't working so everyone has to take turns going through, but the big white truck didn't want to wait his turn, so Mama honked her horn to...um...remind him."
"Hmm..." she says.
"Do you understand, honey?"
"Yes," she says a little warily, "the other cars talk, but yours yells."