So here's the deal: If ever Jeff and I were cool, which I think is debatable (for him, see Key Club, for me see any hair do from 1989 - present day), we certainly have no business trying to be nowadays. We are the parents of a 1-year old and a baby to be. I never thought I would see the day when I cared more about safety than anything else in the world (which is why I have eschewed the sun all summer and my skin is the color of elmer's glue), but that day is here. I want my family to be safe and I want to have some space.
Enter: The mini-van.
We're gonna do it. We're getting a mini-van. Just saying that makes me feel like a full-fledged adult more so than anything else I have ever done, including taking the oath to become a lawyer, or refusing to date an active alcoholic who wanted to take me a beer barn, or having a doctor cut my daughter out of my body.
Nope. None of that compares to saying, "We know who were are, we aren't pretending to be someone else, so we're getting a mini van." Sure, you can go the SUV route, but it seems like pretending. The much-maligned mini-van gets critically panned so often, as a symbol of the suburbs and soccor moms, which I suppose is all about shunning mediocrity. I don't care. I want to be able to get my kids and a couple of groceries and a stroller to and fro safely. The swivel seats are nice too.
I like to joke about the mini-van because it gets such derisive treatment. But my car doesn't really define me or my family any more than someone else's SUV defines them. It's just a car, after all, and you can bet I'll be wearing some damn fine shoes while driving around in my mini-van.
Honk if you love kid-friendly transportation!