We’re driving down the road in the (smokin’ hot) minivan when we pass it. As we drive by, Sloan’s head whips around so far and so fast that I wonder briefly if he might be part owl given his ability to crane his neck to ungodly angles.
“Oh. my. gosh. Mom. Did you just see that? Did you seeeeeee that?! Wow!” he exclaims (and when I say exclaims I mean screeches to the point that my ears start to bleed). He’s now all but sitting on his knees staring out the back window.
“What?” I ask.
“That yellow car. Did you see it?”
I rack my brain. I vaguely remember us just passing a yellow sports car. “Yeah, I saw it,” I said. “What about it?”
“I saw a Transformer head peek out the top. It looked right at me!”
“Oh really?” I ask, highly amused.
“Mom – it was Bumblebee! It really was mom. I saw his head stick up out of the front of the car and he looked at me. That was totally Bumblebee. Totally Awesooooome.”
Upon arriving home, he sat in front of his bedroom window for a solid thiry minutes, “just in case Bumblebee comes to our house.” And for days afterward, he reminded us that somewhere in the greater St. Louis area, a real life Bumblebee was on the loose. “I wonder if Optimus Prime and Star Scream are in our city too?” he asked on more than one occasion.
A few days after the momentous Transformer sighting, Sloan came tearing into our bedroom where I was folding clothes laying down for a few minutes. He had the phone in his hand and wanted to call his dad, who was out shopping for a new car.
“Mom, can I puh-leeze call daddy and tell him to buy that yellow car we saw the other day.”
“Honey, I don’t think daddy is looking for a little yellow car – he needs a bigger car.”
“Aaawww…I really want him to bring that car home. That way I could have my very own for real Transformer.” And with his head hanging low, he moped out of the room.
Some kids want their parents to buy them ponies…mine – he wants an honest to God Transformer – and we won’t give it to him.
We’re so mean.