The Perky Parental Chauffeur

Tomorrow evening, after Lacrosse practice, Scott and I (each of us in our own car) will be taxiing the junior varsity lacrosse team to someone’s house for the weekly “Team Dinner.” First of all, I never want to host a team dinner. Ever. So the least I can do is taxi some boys, post-practice, to the generous person’s house for dinner. Right? This afternoon, I had a pre-taxi discussion with Max.

Cassie: So four boys will go in my car. Four in Dad’s…or maybe only three in his. Do you think four boys will fit?

Max: I dunno.

Cassie: I have to get the exact directions to the house of the family that’s hosting the dinner, so we don’t get lost. That would be embarrassing. I’ll Google it.

Max: Dad just always uses the GPS on the iPhone.

Cassie: I know, but I like to print out the directions beforehand and really have an understanding of where I’m going. Get the lay of the land. Study it a little. You know what I mean?

Max: Ummm. (Pause) Are you going to be all chipper when you drive us over tomorrow night?

Cassie: What do ya mean?

Max: Like all perky and stuff.

Cassie: Maybe. What?! I have to be completely chill when I drive you and the other guys over?

Max: It would be best.

Cassie: Like I can’t even talk?

Max: Probably not. Yea, not really. No talking.

Cassie: Like a silent chauffeur.

Max: Yea! Exactly!

Cassie: Hmmm. But won’t they think that’s kinda rude?

Max: Not at all. They appreciate silence. Really, Mom. They do.

Cassie: Huh. I can usually win people over with my sparkling personality.

Max: Ummm. Please don’t. I would really consider it a personal favor if you wouldn’t…win anybody over. If you wouldn’t sparkle. Okay?

Cassie: Sheesh. Well, I never. I’m extremely good at connecting with people you know. Extremely good at that kind of thing. Like I’m probably a “10” at that.

Max: Uh- huh. I think I’ll just ride with Dad.

Cassie: Pfffft.

Max: Another thing. There’s no time to shower in the locker rooms after the practice. We always have to rush to get over to the dinner. So, anyway, it could smell pretty bad, you know, in the car.

Cassie: B.O.?

Max: Yep. You can’t say a word about it, though. Absolutely no comments. Are you listening to me? Don’t try to make some sort of joke about the odor or anything. Some of the kids try to spray over their smell with Axe, which only makes it smell worse. And some kids just smell much worse than others. But in the car all the different levels of bad smell just blend into one massive cloud of bad odor. You’re just gonna have to deal.

Cassie: Oh Dear God.

Max: Well, you’re going to have to act like a grown-up about it. You can’t gag or anything.

Cassie: How will I breathe?

Max: Dad always breathes through his mouth. And he doesn’t talk. Probably because he’s concentrating on the breathing.

Cassie: Can I roll down the windows? You’re gonna have to let me roll down the windows! I’m sort of nervous now. This could be so bad! Why did I ever volunteer for this? I didn’t think it through. I’m having a lot of anxiety right now.

Max: Get a grip, Mom. It’ll be five minutes of your life. Sheesh.

Cassie: Can you direct the stinkiest kids to Dad’s car?

Max: Mom!

Cassie: Alright. I’m really worked up now, though. I’m going to feel anxious about this upcoming situation all day tomorrow. Happy Freaking Friday. I was going to clean the cars so they’d be nice for everyone, but now I probably won’t even bother because I’ll have to fumigate after the whole trip—

Max: We’re not animals, Mom. We’re teenage boys.

Cassie: Have to fumigate. Extra air freshener thingies. Gonna have to…

Max: Don’t forget that after the dinner you have to pick us all up at the house and drive us back to the high school.

Cassie: I did forget that. Good thing you mentioned it.

Max: Why did you even say yes to doing this?

Cassie: I don’t know. What was I thinking? I have such dread….tomorrow…..

Max: At least you’ll be less perky.

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