MyThreeDaughters

It’s probably not news to Wife, but when I bought a new car about a year and a half ago, sure, gas prices were high and a big reason I chose a small car was great mileage. But another reason was — and here’s the part that wouldn’t surprise Wife — I LIKE having my own ride with my own junk in it.
After years of driving VWs (’68 bug, ’81 Rabbit Diesel, ’89 Jetta, ’98 Jetta), I was tired of having to reassemble them after various parts flew off, so I focused on Hondas. It was either a Civic or an Accord. Aside from the fact that the Accord would get way worse gas mileage, I picked the Civic because it seemed to have a small enough backseat to be uncomfortable enough so that it would never get repurposed for the family car.
I failed to factor in this: Sometimes, only one or two kids need to go somewhere, and when that is the case, the Civic backseat is just fine.
Which brings us to the exploded cache of kid junk that I had to clean out of my car on Friday before going out of town. For any Mom who has to drive the family car, it is not an impressive amount of junk. The impressive thing is that it accumulated during only two round trips.
A cardboard car giveaway from a restaurant, two purple ballet slippers, two sparkly pencils, two drawings created in transit. And my favorite: a four-inch plastic shark.
Sure, it doesn’t compare to the milk container we once found in the SUV after it had turned into cottage cheese. It doesn’t hold a candle to the piece of fruit, probably an orange shriveled to the size of a grape, that we once found under the passenger seat. It does not hold up to finding sticks brought on board as part of Fontaine’s on-going, three-year Smithsonian Anthropological Stick Collection.
But still, a pretty craptastic collection considering the short turnaround time.
Anyone know if those Mercedes/Swatch Smart cars have a back seat?