Gone is the surly boy who won’t sit for pictures. His back straightens his arms tense into the angular hold of every man who ever steered any vessel, anywhere.Īnd he’s happy. Sunlight catches in the fuzz of his arms, revealing innumerable soft bristles. “Dad says you can go four miles over the speed limit and not get in trouble.” His left foot rests on my right foot, which is poised just next to the brake pedal in case I have to make an intervening “urch.” He scrambles over the center console and drops his full weight onto my lap, then grips the steering wheel in both hands. My seat whines as I power it backward to make room for him. The sidewalk falls away, leaving sheer weedy barrows and sassy little prairie dogs. He nods under the thick copper mop I should have cut last week. The boy chews his lip and cranes his neck. It also helps if no one went to Walmart or heard country rap that day. The national headlines can’t be too disturbing.
The day must be dry, clear, not too trafficky. The 9-year-old slaps his own pearly forehead with his pink-knuckled hand.Įxterior conditions also decide whether a 9-year-old gets to drive. “I think you’re Kowalski,” continues the twin. Now stop arguing, so Mom will let me drive.”įor a 9-year-old to be given a Honda Accord, the interior conditions must be perfect: brotherly harmony, mild heating, minimal flatulence. “What penguin do you think you’d be?” replies Big-Sweet, who is oblivious to rebuke. The 9-year-old swivels around, knits his copper eyebrows together and snaps “SHHH! Don’t stress Mom out.” Private is a real wuss, even for a penguin. You’d be Private,” retorts the little, feisty twin.
“I think I’d be Skipper,” says the big, sweet twin. (My 11-year-old is at swimming practice so he’ll have to sit this episode out.) My 8-year-old twins careen giggling into the back seat of our little Honda, where they argue about which of the “Madagascar” penguins they’d each be. My 9-year-old flumps into the front passenger seat. Comments are closed.***For All Things Wyoming, Sign-Up For Our Daily Newsletter***įirst, I pick up the boys from school. The rap on steering wheel wrap is this-you just gotta have it. Know before you buy! Read customer reviews about Steering Wheel Covers or ask our Product Experts. I have had it in the car for 2 weeks it still makes my hands smell like plastic. The knobs keeps my hands from sweating and feels sort of like a message yet easily slides under my hand when making turns but provides a sure grip when I need it. It is about 1000 degrees cooler to grab then the stock black plastic steering wheel after sitting for hours in the Georgia sun.
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