when i was a precocious little brat
of about 4, my parents were test driving a shiny new saab. my dad had all but clinched the part exchange deal with the salesman when my little voice piped up from the back seat...

"oh good daddy, does the clutch slip on this one like it does on yours?"

in my defence, i must have thought it meant something good. but i think my father felt like part exchanging me.

although my hair is now dark brown with only a tiny hint of redness, it was ginger when i was a baby. a ginger, screaming baby. must be every parent's worst nightmare. i'm surprised they didn't send me straight back.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 0:20, Reply)