My knight in shining armour drives a minivan. Willingly.
Even though we are past the stage where he needs the automatic sliding doors because he is carrying a sleeping baby, and we no longer require twenty-three (I exaggerate, but only slightly) cup holders for sippy cups and our daughter's rock collection. At an age where some men are trying to reclaim their youth by trading up to the sports car and investing in hair plugs, my husband just bought a minivan. For Penelope, and by extension, for me.
It began with an idea I started kicking around, of being able to sell our cookies and baked goods to our customers - in person, not just impersonally, online. After all, that's what I miss the most about not having a brick-and-mortar location is people interaction. The widened eyes when they take that first bite, sticky chocolate on a child's face, and the older generation patting my hand and telling me that the pie crust is just like their mama used to make.
So, we decided to build a cart. Not just any cart, but one that looks and feels like an extension of us, our home kitchen where we make all the desserts from scratch. And my engineer husband went to work. First, a list of my must-haves. Then, a hand-drawn design. Our daughters weighed in on the aesthetic. And I got excited. Very, very excited. Until, inevitably, we clashed. His superbly engineered design was impractical for me. My suggestions for cutting corners to speed up the process went against his every belief in retaining the strength and integrity of the cart.
But, like everything else we have done in this life we've built together, Penelope was created as the slightly imperfect but very loved collaboration of both our minds and hands. In order to transport Penelope (Penny for short) to various events and venues, only a minivan would work. And so my husband bought one as his daily driver, to accommodate Penny.
Love is expressed in many, many forms: flowers, chocolate, balloons and teddy bears. But for me, love is a minivan in our driveway, and Penny in the garage.
Wife, mother, baker, jam maker, hug dispenser, reader.