When I was pregnant with Alex, I had an amnio and they told me she was a girl. I was a little confused. It never occurred to me that I wouldn’t have a son, and I had no idea what I would do with two girls and all that pink.
Oh, silly me.
Alex has always preferred toy cars and balls that bounce to dolls and skirts that flounce (I apologize for that really awful rhyme, but once it was there, it had to be used, kind of like buttermilk). On vacation, her souvenirs always had wheels (the truck with surfboard from Maui, the school bus from Switzerland and the Ducati motorcycle from Italy). You see where this is going, don’t you?
This weekend we bought her a Jeep. His name is Hobbs, though I have been referring to him as Hugo, which was his name for the first ten minutes (as in, “wherever Hugo, I go.”)
I am still confused, and slightly mortified (only for the gas mileage). She is thrilled. Steve is not-so-secretly delighted.
She has been asking for this for years. We had a million reasons why it was a bad idea. She saved all of her money, and she waited us out. We set criteria she couldn’t possibly meet, mostly doing with safety features and price. We have employed this strategy before, and we have failed, but we thought it would work.
She is stronger than the both of us.
She found the car on Friday. We owned it before noon on Saturday.
It’s really loud. It’s really tall. The wheels are bigger (almost) than she is. It has an awesome stereo. Did I mention that it is loud and tall?
It’s perfect. She’s in love.
And she’s happy. And as we all know, a happy teen is worth about anything. Plus, she looks like a badass in it.