Meet my nemesis

I don’t get the matchbox car.  What is the appeal?  It’s small, doesn’t go by itself, makes no noise, and to me just seems like THE MOST BORING TOY ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH.  You can never have enough of them either…it’s like the Barbie doll.  My son has over 50 of them laying around the house (cars, not Barbies).  I think they multiply at night while I’m sleeping.  He loves them.  He worships them.  He has to take at least 3 of them whenever we leave the house.  They fall out of the van door when I open it, I step on them at least 15 times a day,  and they are constantly strewn about the house to the point that it looks as if a tornado just hit. 

He asks me daily, “Mommy, you play cars with me?”  He REALLY wants me to do it.  I will find every excuse in the book to not have to sit down on the floor and push those cars around.  “Mommy will read you a book Buddy.  Why don’t you pick a few books for Mommy to read?  Or we can play catch?  Do you want to watch Caillou (just kidding). You can play with this knife or these scissors for a while if you want?”  To which he replies, “No Mommy, I want you play cars with me!”  He is so cute.  Almost cute enough that he can seduce me with those big blue eyes to the point that I will sit down and push those damn cars around for what seems like an hour, but in reality has only been 3 minutes.  Vrmmm, Vrmmmm, vrmmm…CRASH!  Over and over and over again…

There isn’t a whole lot that can get me motivated and/or excited to “play cars.”  When I can’t take the “mommy guilt” anymore and decide to participate, here’s what I get…”Mommy, you be this one.”  It’s not the fancy red race car with flames or the cool cement mixer truck.  Nope.  I get to be the shit brown god forsaken minivan.  Every…single…time.  Really Buddy?  Thanks for letting my imagination really soar.  I mean, I don’t know if I can be a minivan.  It seems so risky and way outside of my comfort zone.  I don’t think I’m capable or worthy.  Can I please be the green slug bug, or the orange station wagon?  Surely I can conquer the matchbox world with one of these?!  I am begging you.  If you love me, you will NOT make me be the minivan.

I have frequent nightmares that I am a giant being chased by hundreds of thousands of matchbox minivans.  They are all brown.  Why am I running?  I am bigger than them.  Why do I not just simply turn around and step on them?  Oh, that’s right…because I would slip and fall to my certain death. Damn you matchbox minivan. Damn you.


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