At the height of the economic crisis of 2008, I did my patriotic duty and bought a car.  Being a believer in public transportation, I bought a GM, which had just been acquired by Uncle Sam.  Said car was recently in the shop for a warranty repair, during which time the dealer hooked me up with a free rental car.  Expecting a sub-sub compact, I was surprised to drive home that night in a GMC Tahoe.  My kids came streaming out of the backyard to check out my “new” car.  Owen, my four year old, wanted me to buy the beastly thing.  I offered to take the whole family for a ride.  During said ride, my 7 year old daughter Anna spotted a field with a “For Sale” sign in front.  But it was not just any field.  It came with a white horse in the middle, standard.  Now that I think about it, it was on White Horse Road.  The fact that no one could see the house from the road was not deemed relevant.  We had to have that house, which we get to and from in that car.  The children’s answer:  Just buy it.

Interesting how early the grass is greener starts.  I didn’t mention Matthew’s desires.  He’s our 9 year old who wants to live with Uncle Chris or Aunt Kelly.   Anna and Owen just wanted a new ride and new crib.  Matthew wants different parents.