Passengers Wanted

I hate driving my husbands car. I don't mind that it's a Ghetto Saab Hyundai. It's actually cute. Zippy. Red. Sunroof. Sirius radio.

It's just that it's filled with papers and neckties and old Wall Street Journals in dirty plastic wrappers from the front yard.And installed within this otherwise cute as a bug car, The Ugliest Car Seat Ever, as purchased at Costco, by my impatient husband when I refused to make a decision on Ellie's "Big Girl" carseat.

Apparently he thought functionality was enough.
Shesh.

Point is, I hate driving it, because it's dirty.
I hate the carseat, because it's ugly.
And I hate the fact that every time I'm in it, something goes wrong.

The car alarm goes off randomly, the windows freeze - locked, the battery dies because the radio was installed wrong and he never went back (let's jump start it daily, shall we?) the back flap over the cargo area flips up. It's all very distracting. Very pain in the ass. It's like driving an extremely temperamental wedding planner.

So the other day, of course, I consent to driving his car with Ellie and her door doesn't work. I use the key fob, press the litle unlock button, I hear all the doors unlock, save for hers. This happens about three different times, all one after the other. I try using the btoon on the door. I tryy locking them all the unlocking.

Inconvenient. Inconvenient in the slush as I drag her across the back seat out the rear drivers side door.

I call him.
"Did you do something to her door? Like one of those safety things?"
Him: "No"
Me: Grumpy. "Fine"

I get home.
"Something's wrong with the door."

He assumes I'm an idiot.
This is a frequent occurrence.

"Did you try locking then unlocking them all?"

Honestly, my husband should work on a help desk. You know, one of those guys that asks about 17 obvious questions before getting to the point you were at when you called.

I advise him of everything I've done.
He's skeptical.

We go out together over the weekend.

And hallelujah glory be to the powers above, it happens to him.
Several times.

"Hmh. I hope it's under warranty"

A couple of days later, I open the back door to take out my bag.
I look over my shoulder to tell him that I'll get Ellie and I notice him leaning over laughing.

"What's up?" I check my butt, my hair. Back in the car. "What?"
"I think I know what happened to the back door"

And I look in and see Ellie with her shoe in her hand, and the toes of her right foot gliding over the door lock. Pushing it firmly then pounding it with her heel.
The door lock that she can't reach in my car.

She's so freakin cute that Ellie.