We passed a car lot and there were little American flags all over the cars. "Why is that, Mommy?" my daughter asked.
"Oh, they just want to draw attention to the new cars for sale," I said.
"For sale? So they're free? Can we get one?" Olivia said excitedly.
"They are not free," I corrected.
"But they're for sale?" she pressed.
"Right. Sale. Selling for money," I clarified. "Not free."
"Are they really cheap? Doesn't sale mean cheap?" Olivia continued.
"Yes, but sometimes they trick you by saying it's cheap but it's really not," I said. "Why? Do you want to buy a car?"
My eight year old said yes. She wants to own a car and drive one, though she knows she's currently too short to reach the pedals. I told her she would need to save her allowance for the next ten years before she could afford one.
"And where will you drive to?" I asked.
"Disneyland!" she exclaimed. She estimated it was a "million" miles away and she knows it's not possible over the ocean, but claims she still wants to try. My gosh, I love the imagination of children.
Now that I think about it, I recall being fascinated by cars when I was very young, too. I'd sit behind the wheel of my grandfather's car and pretend to turn the wheel. I'd sit on my dad's lap and he would actually let me turn the wheel if we were driving down an isolated road.
It was very exciting. I forgot all about that until this conversation.
"I know! Mommy, when I'm older, I'm going to drive your car. I don't want to buy one because I don't know how add, subtract, multiply, and divide," she stated.
That's great, she'll probably also be living with me until she's 35. Actually, I'm so attached to her I think I would like that.