Car Seat Cover
"No, you don't. You love it," I tell her. Primo argument. Immediately tell your wife how to feel and I'm sure it will work out for you as well as it did for me. Seriously, don't ever take my advice. It's pretty terrible.
"Not a chance. I hate it and I won't sit on it," Hossmom says.
"Yes, you will." You should also tell your wife exactly what she will do. I promise that this will work out as well for you as you telling your wife how to feel.
She won't even touch the car seat cover. She is barely looking at it. She tries to turn her head because I'm guessing the awesomeness of the white flames is too much to take. But she can't look away, try as she might.
"Give it a chance, baby. Don't hate. Procreate."
"I hate that as much as your new car seat cover."
But she laughs. If I can get my wife to laugh then I can get her to sit on the car seat cover.
$2.99 from the thrift shop. Captain American blue and adorned with white flames like we are riding to our destiny. Professionally embroidered edges and custom fitted over the arm rest. It was the best three bucks I've spent in years. I didn't even know I needed it until I saw it. China makes the best stuff.
"You need to take this off the driver's seat. I'm not going to be seen riding to the school picnic with this thing on," Hossmom says.
"Baby, baby, baby. Don't let other people dictate to you. We don't care what other people think," I say.
"I need for the other parents to think that we aren't meth dealers," Hossmom says.
"Baby girl, let us shine together. You, me and the car seat cover. Let's be the sun and not a black hole."
"You call me baby one more time and I'm going to throat punch you."
"No, you're not. You are a pacifist. You don't believe in hitting."
"I'm rethinking that."
I get it. I know what's going on. Hossmom is jealous of the tacky beautiful. The blue is too powerful. The fabric flames are too hot. She's afraid that her own beauty will be extinguished next to the car seat cover. I need to reassure her.
"Honey baby," I say.
"Hoss," Hossmom says.
"I mean Honey girl. Not baby. Honey girl." I think I almost got throat punched there. "Honey girl, you're prettier than the car seat cover. You know that. I know that. It brings out the brown in your eyes, the curl of your hair. It does other stuff that I can't describe because sometimes your beauty is too much."
"It brings out CPS is what it does," Hossmom says. "And it's not safe. It goes over the seatbelt latch. It's a death trap. If the police pull you over, you are going to get arrested for having bad fashion sense."
"I got great fashion sense."
"Little Hoss picks out your shirts every day. You got nothing."
"I got you and a car seat cover."
"Not for long."
"We are running late," I tell my wife. "We have to go. Just sit. Just feel it about your buttocks."
"I'm going to buttocks you," Hossmom says.
"I'm game. Baby."
Crap. That was a mistake.
Anyone need a bitchin car seat cover?
Posted by Team Hossman