The list of things NOT to do with kids is becoming quite extensive. There’s shopping. The opticians. The midwife. And now buying a new car.
We attempted to do this at the weekend. Because we have six weeks until we can’t fit into ours. Not as a family of five anyway. We can keep what we’ve got and draw straws who goes where. I’ve even (rather graciously, I think) volunteered to stay at home every time this need arises. But for some reason, Daddy Pig isn’t too keen on going without me. With Beaver, Godivy and The Pea. I have no idea why. Sounds like a right old laugh, if you ask me.
24 miles in 4 hours.
So this rainy bank holiday weekend, we decided to go and look at cars. With Beaver and Godivy. Because we thought it would be fun to include them. Because we didn’t have anyone to look after them. And because we are idiots.
On Saturday, we viewed a car in Chiswick. The Chiswick that’s only 12 miles from our house. 12 miles. And a four hour round trip. Particularly ironic given I have certain rules about not letting the kids sit in the car for too long in any given 24 hour period.
We had to take it in turns to test drive the car. Because one of us had to wait with Godivy. Who had done a poo. And was covered in peanut butter. When my turn came, it was difficult to concentrate on what the seller was saying with Beaver sitting in the back asking me what all the buttons did and why the lady across the road was wearing that funny hat.
We didn’t buy the car. But hey. Who doesn’t like a day trip to Chiswick?
Yesterday, we tried our luck in a showroom. And we had a cunning plan. We took the girls to soft play first to tire them out. The air-con had broken and they slowly melted. An unexpected bonus. Then we stuffed them with pizza. Just to really finish them off.
When we arrived, Godivy had done a poo. Daddy Pig changed her and strapped her in her buggy. For naptime. Ha bloody ha. Somewhere between us sitting in the back seat and looking at the boot, she escaped. We found her hanging out of a nearby Freelander. Looking a bit like a Golden Retriever on speed.
We sat down to talk to the car salesman. Godivy did another poo. Beaver wanted to know what was in the salesman’s drawer. She found peanut M&Ms. He offered them both some. I said, ‘No.’ He said, ‘Are you sure? I feel really mean now.’ I said, ‘They’re not very good on chocolate.’ He looked at me as if to say, ‘They’re not very good on air.’
Daddy Pig and I took turns trying to secure Godivy. Beaver watched Frozen. Whilst singing along. Loudly. The car salesman, a father of four boys, kindly took it in his stride. We asked him if he’d like to swap one of his boys for one of our girls. He politely declined.
Two grand of hula hoops.
When he came to value our car, I asked him to look beyond the litter of hula hoop packets and apple juice cartons. Mentioned the low mileage. And the fact that with a good old hoover, the car could look really nice. It came in about 2K short of what we were hoping for. I blame the sodding hula hoops.
‘Do you have any other questions?’ he said before we got up to leave.
‘Do you get an off-road driving day if you buy one?’ said Daddy Pig.
Really? It was akin to the only question Daddy Pig asked the wedding organiser when we got married. ‘Which ales can you get in?’
So it looks like we’ll be drawing straws after all.
Just as long as I don’t get the short one.
What have you attempted to do with kids in tow and immediately regretted? Leave a comment below or pop over to Surviving Life and Motherhood. Where insanity rules. And we cry. A lot.