“Can we go through the car wash?” Twin A. asks.
“Please?” Twin B. agrees.
“Sure!” I respond, grabbing an old apple from the backseat of the minivan while the gas tank fills up.
As we pull into the car wash, I ask, “Has baby b. ever been in one of these before?”
“Yeah,” Twin A. responds, “he HATES it.”
Sure enough, there’s baby b. in the backseat shaking his head vigorously, his eyes wide.
“Look! Bubbles!” I try to sound cheerful.
Baby b. will have none of it. Screaming, he continues to shake his head. “No bubble, no bubble!”
Poor kid probably needs therapy. Maybe I should have asked the question before driving into the car wash.
I’m off to the Festival of Faith and Writing early tomorrow morning, so will be offline for awhile. I would covet your prayers as I consider my next step in this writing journey.