Every time we’ve been in the car this week, 3B has engaged in the same call and response, from his back seat throne: “Do you want to go fast? Yes, you want to go fast.” He repeats this until we tell him that we are going fast, but he starts again as soon as we slow down or hit a red light.
Friday night, as we were taking a family walk to take in the great outdoors, get some exercise and watch Barky poop, 3B kept calling out the same call and response from his stroller, punctuated by bursts of “You want to go fast! You want to go fast! You want to go fast! You want to go fast!” Finally, I relented and ran him down the sidewalk. Of course, as soon as I stopped to catch my breath and look around for a defibrillator, he started yelling it again. It was all I could do to not point out that his buggy is a MacLaren, not a McLaren.
Today, as we were riding our bikes down to Olde Towne, 3B, the charioteer to my horse, kept calling out, “Want to go fast! Want Daddy to ride fast!” To his credit, he did occasionally cheer me on, after being prompted by Mama, “Woo hoo! Go daddy! Go bikers! Go bikers! Go bikers!”
With his need for speed, I’m just hoping the kid doesn’t turn out to be a menace to society, like a Scientologist or something.