So, one glorious fall day a year or so ago, Mr. SFL and I were taking a kid-free ride in the car. There was a minivan in front of us, the rear window of which was asymmetrically decorated with those booster decals. You know, the thing with a baseball, or a megaphone, or a flute and their kid’s name? I really don’t understand why people think these are a good idea. Lecher Pervypants: ‘Hey Tyffany – your mom asked me to come and pick you up from cheerleading practice. The Lexis broke down and she had to take it to the shop.’ Sigh. I just don’t get it. I mean, I understand that parents want to trumpet the accomplishments of their kids, but what happened to the fine tradition of the braggy holiday newsletter? I know my parents had those awful oversized booster buttons with pictures of a young SFL doing whatever it is I did, but they would have never plastered my face or my name on THEIR CAR.
Also, I don’t like how only certain activities get praised. It seems like judgment by omission. Kids are doing things WAY cooler than sports – why aren’t their parents honoring them via vehicular homage? What about a skateboard? Where is the 21 sided-die for the proud parent of a D&D kid? An eyeliner tube to symbolize your love for emo-lovin’ Junior? Maybe just a limp sock for your son who is in a period of self-discovery?
But I digress…
So, Mr. SFL and I pull up alongside the decal-laden minivan. As I note previously, they were asymmetrically arranged, with just one decal on the left side and four or five on the right. Which bothers me on a fundamental level. If you are going to ‘decorate’ your vehicle, do it with an eye to the visually pleasing. But as we get closer, I realize that there is a method to the decal madness. On the right side, a multitude of various symbols proclaim the athletic prowess of one “Kevin.” Young Kevin, it appears, is quite the polymath – baseball, basketball, football, track – a real year-rounder. Contrast this with left side of the minivan, where we have but one sad lonely baseball decal for some lazy shit named Cody. It seems Cody doesn’t try hard enough. Cody seems to think that he only needs to get off his ass one season a year.
Well, we finally pass the minivan and I can see it is being driven by an older female – Mom. Mom is in the process of vigorously chastising the scowling and slouching sluggard in the passenger seat. And I don’t blame her, as I know instantly that this is Cody – I can tell by the smirk on his face. I don’t need to hear them to know that Cody has been pulling the same old routine, slacking off, playing video games when he should be studying, talking to that slutty cheerleader, Tyffany, at all hours of the night. Well, I don’t know about his Mom, but I have had about enough of this – Cody needs to get his shit together and soon. Doesn’t he realize how much his Mom worries about him? Can’t he see how he is tearing this family apart?
Cody, you bastard, why can’t you be more like Kevin?