“I WANT THAT CAR! I WANT THAT CAR!”
C.J. scared the crap out of me. We were out running errands and he let go of my hand in a parking lot and made a mad dash for the car of his dreams.
“Can we get it? Can we get it? Please! It’s pink and has kisses on it. I want it! Take my picture by it!”
People were looking and C.J. was posing like he was on American’s Next Top Model. I took his picture with it like he was meeting Tyra Banks.
“Hi,” a man said awkwardly from behind me. Of course the driver of the car would come out and catch us touching and photographing his vehicle.
“Oh, um, hi,” I said with my sweetest smile. “I’m sorry, but my son loves your car.”
“No problem. Do you all want some t-shirts?,” he asked.
“YES!,” screamed C.J.
The nice man from Lipstick Bail Bonds gave us stickers, air freshners and tank tops. Who knew that bail bondsmen carried so many chotchkies with them. Here is C.J. wearing the tank top that he selected. He’s layered it over a hospital gown and paired it with his rain boots. Naturally.
Twelve years from now, he fully expects to see that car in our driveway on his birthday.