I don't think these kids trust me one bit...

Case in point:

Sometimes I park my van in the driveway, and not in the garage, when I know I’ll be turning around and going back out shortly. Or if I’m just feeling lazy.

Because here it is, friends… my van is big. And my side of the garage is small. And I have been known to whack a side mirror or two in my day. What can I say? I lack depth perception. (And I am not deeply perceptive, either.)

I can still remember when we lived in Colorado, and my neighbor, Andy, wandered over to investigate the source of ‘that loud crack’ he’d heard, only to find me frantically trying to reattach the right hand side mirror of my Mazda. It least it came off cleanly.

And don’t even get me started on the number of times I’ve smacked the garage refrigerator with my front bumper. Oh, and someday, remind me to tell you about the time I was house-sitting, and I put a huge hole in their garage with my car.

I have a litany of parking mishaps. But, as usual, I digress. The van… parked outside…

As the day progresses, and I realize that I am not, in fact, going to make it to H.E.B. to pick up something for dinner (you know, because I haven’t had a chance to do my ‘big’ grocery trip, and “Yum… don’t grilled cheese sandwiches sound good for dinner... again?”)

So, I’ll move the van inside the garage. But before I do, I’ll yell to the kids upstairs, “Guys, I’m moving the car in!” Every single time… I’m talking, EVERY. SINGLE. TIME... a little head will peer out from the door to watch me move it.

Almost like they’re making sure I’m not about to make a break for it. Running for the Canadian border (hey, I’ve been to Mexico…) with nothing more than the clothes on my back, my car keys, and the 43 cents I keep in the ashtray. Of course I could probably feed myself for a week on the French fries they’ve spilled under the seat.

“I’m just moving the van inside,” I’ll tell them through the window. They just nod and watch. Occasionally they’ll wave.

They don’t trust me.

Either that, or they’re just waiting for the side mirror-snapping, refrigerator-tapping, cursing extravaganza. ;)