Driving Miss Chris

Look out world! Maniac driver!

Driving home from a birthday party tonight (shout out to Iris Jakubowski who is now 3!), I was reminded that many of the most bizarre conversations I have had with Chris have taken place inside the Prius we’ve owned most of her life.

Today Chris had spent a couple of hours in the swimming pool and was still a little soggy, so despite the 102-degree Phoenix weather she was complaining that it was cold. When I told her that I had nothing but a damp towel with which to cover herself, she suggested I give her the shirt off my back. Literally.

I explained that I couldn’t drive naked and her retort was, “You won’t be naked. You’ll be half naked. So it’s OK.”

I guess I should have seen this coming since one of the strangest incidents I can recall from our long drives was when she was about 2 ½ and we were headed to the dentist to have a tooth pulled. I was singing along with the radio, almost forgetting she was in the back seat as I cruised down the freeway. When I glanced in the rearview mirror I did a doubletake because she was completely in the buff. That’s right. Stark Nekkid!

I’m not sure how she did it all so quickly and quietly, and I have to admit I was pretty pleased that she took the initiative to buckle herself back up in her carseat, but mostly I was baffled as to why she felt the need to rid herself of every stitch of clothing. When I asked her why she was in her birthday suit she could only blink and finally told me, “I just wanted to be naked.”

First, I was thankful that we had tinted windows. Second, I decided maybe she was nervous about the dental visit. And although I can’t recall the specific time of year, chances are it was hot since we do live in the upper level of hell. So even though it was an odd thing to do, I simply put her clothes back on in the parking lot of the dentist’s office and chalked it up to being a weird kid.

Anyway, although that might have been the most baffling time in the car, it certainly wasn’t the only interesting conversation we’ve had. We used to drive 20 minutes each way to daycare so we had a lot of quality car time playing endless games of “Where’s Chris?” in which I had to pretend I didn’t know she was two feet away in the backseat and wasn’t the one saying “no” when I asked if Chris was on top of the hotel, or in a tree or in the back of that pickup truck.

Chicks dig DRIVING daddy's car.

Oh, and during the past six years I have also been forced to listen to about one bazillion Hannah Montana songs. Unfortunately that is only a slight exaggeration. By the way, she once informed me that when she got her own car it would be pink and probably cost $6, or maybe even $4, and she would listen to every Hannah Montana song twice when she felt like it since my ‘Once is enough’ rule was obviously unfair. You can probably imagine her ideal ride would look more like Barbie’s dream car (or the sports car Daddy drives that comes with a rad stereo) instead of the environmentally and economically responsible car a boring 40-year-old mom uses to tool around town.

One drive home I remember asking Chris what she learned at preschool that day and she explained that water helps plants and flowers grow. Then I nearly choked on my water bottle and probably swerved when she added that her boobies must be growing too because they get water on them in the bathtub.

Another day I relayed the same cautionary tales my parents had used, telling her not to stick her hands or head out of the car window because they could be chopped off.

You may have a cool car. But I'm still in charge.

She must have been scared straight because in an awed voice she said, “Man! That’s harsh!”

Yes, we have had many lively conversations (arguments) in the car but going full circle back to the bizarre, my favorite car incident happened one night when we were almost home from work. A few blocks away from our house she asked me why I was pulling over to the side of the road and I was pleased for the chance to remind her about the everyday heroes she learned about in preschool. I explained that an ambulance and fire truck needed to pass us to go help people, and that when you hear the sirens or see the flashing lights you should always get out of their way so they can get by you quickly.

Of course she was curious about where they were going and the true little rubbernecker wanted me to follow. I nixed that idea but told her it could be anything: there might be a house fire they needed to fight, or somebody that needed a ride to the hospital, or maybe even a car accident where people could be hurt.

She was quiet for a few seconds and I could smell the smoke from her brain as she imagined all the tragic possibilities that might require emergency personnel.

Then, in a small voice she said, “You know, if it’s a car accident those people might die. But we could all die from cars. And ninjas.”

Yes. She said NINJAS.

I don’t know where that came from. Or why. Bizarre I tell you!

At least we can all rest-assured that Chris has at least 12 years before she’s the one doing the driving. And hopefully she’ll be dropping a few more of the car gems along the way.
...uh just realized my math is off. Only 10 more years until Chris reaches driving age. Time to panic!

My driving days have begun.