Hey, teenagers in the blue Honda Civic two rows down and three cars to right, it's me the thirty-something mom in the red Dodge Caravan with the four kids, the piecemeal career, and the tummy that is like a rubber band that has been stretched one too many times. Stop that foolin’ around and watch the movie. It’s Robert Downey, Jr. flying with the help of a jetpack, can you get much sexier? Take advantage of the Rocky Mountain fresh air, the starry sky, and smell of movie theatre popcorn. Pretending to be married under the blankets in the backseat of your economy car is okay until you become exhausted parents who can’t even hold hands without some yelling: “Yuck! Stop touching”, “He stole my drink,” or “I have to pee.”
If you are still unconvinced, turn around and look to your left, my van is the one that is vibrating with all the screaming. The two-year-old is pulling the five-year-old’s hair while the eleven-year-old and the eight-year-old fight over the Good-N-Plenty, which ultimately results in another spill to add to the popcorn, M&Ms, Sour Patch Kids, and Whoppers, floating in Mountain Dew on the floor of my minivan. The father is blissfully watching the movie while the mother is aging rapidly as she sobs into her hands.
So, young man, please sit up straight and keep your hands to yourself. Young lady cross your legs, think about college, and going into a traditionally male dominated profession with huge earning potential that will allow you to buy designer handbags and matching shoes with your own money.
