Paris, Sophie and I were enjoying the baby turtles and giant fish in a nearby pond when the roar of cars from the street interrupted our serene exploration. All of a sudden a never-ending line of Lamborghinis came barreling through the closest intersection. It was, at first, magnificent. These amazingly expensive and powerful cars in candy-coated colors were close enough to feel. The roar reverberated in our bellies and the colors sparkled in the morning sun.
An occasional red light brought the procession to a stop just long enough for us each to pick our favorite color – as though we were browsing at a dime store candy counter. My favorite was the glistening purple one. Paris chose royal blue and Sophie chose bright apple red. Or was it green? Or pink? Maybe it was the white or turquoise? There were so many! So many in fact, that it quickly lost it’s magic. One after another rolled by in this exclusive high-end car club procession.
Honestly, it started to look like my family room floor after a serious round of Hot Wheels. While I can appreciate the fine artistry and craftsmanship that goes into these adult toys, my mind eventually went back to, “How many cup holders can it possibly have?” and “Do the doors slide?” and the gratingly practical, “Humph, they obviously don’t do carpool.” Why is it that a car has to be small to have club? I had a Miata once. Oooh, I loved that car. And I joined the Miata Club. But I had to give it all up when I was 7 months pregnant with my first child because, well, I could barely fit into it. Much less tote a baby around in it.
Joining the mommy crowd was at first about SUV’s. Then, for me, it became about the Minivan – the most miraculous of cars. The car of mom freedom. All the doors and the back operate at the touch of a button – from the key fob and/or from the buttons inside. The kids can reach everything, operate everything, and I can relax as each mechanism has a safety retract feature to protect hands and feet from being smashed. Oh, and six cup holders, three air conditioning zones and room for all of the soccer, baseball, and beach equipment you can imagine.
The parade of Minivans at drop off, however, doesn’t have the same visual impact on me as the parade of Lamborghinis on a Sunday morning. Why is that? Why did I feel ever so slightly envious? Was it the power, the freedom, the exotic body style and candy colors? Or because everyone looks and wonders just what kind of life you must be living to drive one?
As I thought about this, the man driving the white Lamborghini paused and waved at me and the girls after he saw us standing by the pond, watching. I waved back. In that moment, it occurred to me that he was wondering what kind of a life I must have to be out on a Sunday morning, strolling about with two beautiful children, finding pretty much the same awe and joy in the fish, the turtles and the glorious day ahead of us, as we did in his brief Lamborghini Parade.