Our daughter loves numbers. I have mentioned this on more than one occasion. Her love of numbers and sheer boredom in the back of the car has meant that she started taking note of road numbers. She then started taking note of the GPS in the front of the car. This child only has a tenuous grasp on left and right, but she will happily navigate you around her home town and the surrounding area. I don’t guarantee you will end up where you wanted to go, but, in the words of Dirk Gently, you may get to where you need to be. I think.
She has also started arguing with the GPS about the best route, her Grandpa about the best lane to be in, and her father about the speed he drives at. She did think about having an argument with me about some point of my driving, but I responded by turning her music off and telling her if she did it again then we were listening to mummy’s music choice from now on, and she thought better of it.
She is very insistent that you have to be in certain lanes travel at the speed limit and going in the correct direction, which is all very well, but as she doesn’t like the number ‘19’ (no idea why) and the main road that we have to cross to get anywhere from our house is the A19, this leads to multiple breakdowns as she screams that she doesn’t like the A19 and would in fact prefer to be anywhere other than on it.
When I asked her for a solution to this problem she stated we should just engage the wings and fly. This is a feature I didn’t know our car had, but apparently it does and I’m either too stubborn or stupid to use it.
She is also very certain that our car is the fastest on the road, the biggest and the best, and it can in fact eat other cars, as it is a shark-car – because it has a fin on its back. Trying to convince her that it’s actually a Honda Jazz and hence slow and small, with its only redeeming features being reliability and fuel economy, have fallen on deaf ears.
Recently, she has also been having opinions on pedestrians, animals and cyclists we pass. I braked to avoid a puppy that looked like it was going to run into the road in front of us, and she decided it was a silly dog. When I asked in despair what I should have done, she said her imaginary friend would have got it.
I can’t wait for her to take her driving test, the instructor will say ‘look out, there’s a child in the road’ only for her to tell him her imaginary friend will save it and carry on. He will expect an emergency stop, and what he will get is an argument.
Just don’t ask her to go on the A19.
Raising the Modern Fae 