Batteries and Biscuits...

Our car batter finally gave up the ghost this morning and let all its green stuff out.  Tragic.  We had known this was coming for a while, we had just hoped it would happen closer to the end of a pay period... but why be convenient, right?  Luckily we have a second car (with no car seats at the moment) so we were able to resurrect Robert the Blue Car (What?  Your car DOESN'T have a name), drive the kids to daycare and roll into a Firestone.  And why not just switch the car seats, you ask?  Because hooking those things up takes a PhD in Physics or Spacial Development.  Damn you, Graco.

Anyway, while watching Hubbs get the jumper cables hooked up through the storm door, Sass asked,
"What is Daddy doing?"
Me:  "He's jumping the car so we can go to school."
Sass:  *Looks very confused and inserts Thinkin' Finger* (He has always stuck his index finger into his mouth when he is having the deep thoughts.  We have come to call it "the Thinkin' Finger".)
Me:  "Umm... Cars need gas and electricity to go like you need food and milk."
Sass:  *BING* "The car jumps, Mommy?  I jump too!"

And instantly, I saw in his face that Robert the Blue Care and Sass were "da sames"... compatriots in play... and jumping.  And I suppose he was right.  At least about the electricity part.  I have often wondered if Sass doesn't actually plug in somewhere when we aren't looking.  His ability to ricochet off furniture and climb the swing set can't be fueled by apple slices and meatballs alone.  This would explain so much...

We also also figured out the most successful technique (a.k.a. Operation No Scream) for Sprinkels' abandonment drop off this morning.  Food.  More specifically, biscuits.  When you get to daycare late, you arrive in the middle of morning snack.  If you arrive during morning snack, the juice and biscuits are already out on the table.  And if they are already out on the table then Sprinks won't even wait for you to put her down before her little legs begin to try and propel her towards her quarry with her arms out stretched,  fingers grasping, and lips smacking wetly at the idea of buttery carb-tastic satisfaction.  Yikes!  Replaced by pastry!  Well, at least she isn't screaming, right?