My Car: Enter at Your Own Risk







Oscar and Edgar eat in my car–and not just neat, crumb-free snacks but ice cream and fruit snacks and crackers and cheese, bagels, muffins, and cereal, bananas, apples, strawberries, and blueberries.  And they drink–water, of course, but also milk– and in summertime, too.  So, if you open my car door on any given day, you might find the residue from a NutriGrain bar adhered to the backseat baked in by the summer sun.  Or, there might be milk splash on the back of the front seat, projected as a result of an overzealous laugh.  And if you look on the floor, you might find a desiccated fruit snack from last week as well as a cup that resembles a high school science experiment that even after three trips through the dishwasher must, out of necessity and hygiene, be tossed.  Passengers have entered my car and commented (or put down newspaper to sit on), but they sit down nonetheless.   I meet the messes head on and regularly and use the moments when we’re waiting to pick up someone to wipe up, discard, and provide enough crumbs to feed an entire flock of seagulls, who I am convinced have our license plate committed to memory.  My car has been the setting of great laughter, great conversation, and, yes, great eating.  And though I would never tolerate this level of, shall we say, filth in my home, there is something about the car.  And the time will come soon enough when it will just be the sesame seeds from my bagel and the splash from Don’s iced coffee–when the boys will be driving their own cars, which, after all this, they will undoubtedly keep spotless!


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