Play

It's that time of year when kids write their letters to Santa, and wish for those special toys to be under the tree Christmas morning. Play is a crucial part of a child's development. Sadly, as adults we sometimes forget to play. Maybe we would all be happier, less grumpier and have less stress-related illnesses if we remembered to play.

I have written about Pink, my pink VW New Beetle here. While out Christmas shopping, I ran across Pink's little sisters. They are cars for Barbie dolls, and what fun for a child to get one of those for Christmas. How absolutely, fantastically delightful that I have a real one and get to drive it every day.

Play is important, and fantasy is fun, for adults and kids alike. Childhood is a magical time, and what fun at Christmas to be a child. But being a grown-up can be pretty amazing, too, and sometimes reality is way better than fantasy. My wish for you, my readers, at this most wonderful time of the year, is that you begin to see some of your dreams come true.

Susan

The "P" Word

I have a new friend. She is new to this planet, having arrived here just last February. Her mom and I became friends a couple of years ago in a college class, and in my spare time I babysit. It's nice because it gives me some money apart from my regular job, and my new friend is the bee's knees.

She has super long eyelashes, but not much hair. She is a snuggler, and I love to snuggle. She is one of those babies that just kind of leans and cuddles in, and loves to be held. Her mom told me that she and the dad don't use the "P" word around her, but she hears it a lot when they go out. Pretty. I mean, I get it that they don't want her looks to define her. And she is more than just a pretty face. She is smart and funny and crawls both backward and forward and pulls herself up on things.

She seems to think that I am the bee's knees, too, because when she sees me she smiles and puts her arms out for me to pick her up. Yesterday she did that, and I took her and we were just sort of talking and I said, "So how ya doin', Princess?" I gasped and immediately looked at her mom. "Uh, another "P" word, huh?" Her mom smiled good naturedly and said, "Yeah, we try not to use that one either."

But the thing is, as soon as I said the "P" word, my friend broke out in the biggest smile ever and laughed. She knows she is a princess, and she likes it that I get that about her, her princessness, or princesshood. If anyone would understand, it would be me. I drive a pink car, for goodness' sake.

So I had a little talk with my friend and told her that we are more than our looks, that we are smart and funny and talented and kind and wonderful and strong, and the sky is the limit as to what we can accomplish. I asked her if she knew that Barack Obama (Can you say "Barack Obama"?) was re-elected President, and that he respects women and will work to make sure no one puts baby in a binder? She thought that was funny, that baby in a binder thing. So I said it a bunch of times really fast. Babyinabinderbabyinabinderbabyinabinder.

We can be anything we want to be. Scientists and professors and mechanics and well, maybe one day soon Hillary Clinton (Can you say "Hillary Clinton"?) will become the first woman President of the United States. It is wonderful to be a girl. It is the best thing ever, to be a girl in a world like the one we live in today.

Her mom had Sesame Street on, and I told my friend about PBS and how Big Bird and Elmo and Abby weren't going anywhere. Today's post has been brought to you by the letter "P," and it's for all the pretty princesses everywhere.

Susan

Pink

My car is a Volkswagen Beetle. Pink. It's her color and her name. For years, I would say it would be great to have a pink Beetle. Or a purple one. I would imagine buying one in one of the standard colors and having it painted. It isn't an uncommon fantasy for women, I have discovered.

For years, I drove a reliable Toyota Camry. They are great cars and mine was wonderful. One day I was thinking about how the Camry was thirteen, kind of reaching that point where things start to go wrong. Just out of curiosity, I went to autotrader.com and looked up Beetles. I put in my price range and my zip code, nothing else in the search field. I was just exploring what I could get for what I wanted to pay. Soon I had the result of my search. Guess who popped up first? You are probably already ahead of me here. Pink. A Beetle that was ALREADY pink. Wow. What are the chances? She was ridiculously overpriced. I saw that when I Kelley Blue Booked a Beetle and then looked into the price of custom paint. Even with her gorgeous color, the asking price was way too much. But still...

The next morning, I started up the Camry and the check engine light came on and stayed on. Now you and I both know a check engine light can mean very little, and in this case I just took it to my mechanic and he cleared it for me. But it seemed strangely coincidental. It could mean nothing, but still...

I called Pink's owner, and we arranged a meeting. Love at first sight, no doubt about it. We talked a little bit about price. My mechanic checked Pink out and she got a clean bill of health. Some people like to say that VW's are expensive to maintain and repair, and that it's hard to find someone to work on them. That is because they are German cars, and not everyone knows how to work on German cars. My mechanic and Pink seemed to get along just fine. I decided on a fair price that I was willing to pay, and as we negotiated, Pink's owner and I arrived at a number we could both live with. Pink has been mine now for over a year. She has a personality all her own. She takes me where I want to go.

A couple of weeks ago, a little girl, maybe age 4 or 5, was in the grocery store parking lot with her mom and they exclaimed over the wonderfulness and wonderfilledness of Pink. Then the little girl put her hands on her hips, looked at me with a most serious expression and said, "Cars don't come in pink." Her mom explained to her that no they don't, you have to have them specially painted.

Cars don't come in pink. No. They don't. But sometimes they do.

Susan