Oh, the Simple Pleasures of Life

Remember that show Green Acres where the big city attorney marries one of the Gabor twins with the thick European accent, and they move to the country to get back to the simpler life? OK, just checking.

On my son's birthday last weekend he wanted to go see some of his favorite cars. So, while our oldest son was off on a fabulous back-packing trip, and our other son was playing in a baseball game at the park, I took the birthday boy and his friend window shopping.

When we pulled up to Symbolic Motors in La Jolla you would have thought that the king of the universe was there giving out unicorn rides and chocolate covered cotton candy handmade by Elvis from the way the boys were screaming.

Well, a kid in a candy shop is nothing compared to these two boys in the car showroom. "A black Lambo! Look at the Lotus! Check out the red one! No way, (and here's the hyperventilation squeal) a blue and silver Bugatti Veyron!" Thank goodness for those powerful forcefield velvet ropes surrounding that car and the laminated do not touch signs on all the windows, or those boys would have hopped right in, had that thing hot-wired and taken it on the open roads for the Salt Flats in no time!

They raced around the store drooling at all their dream cars amidst a couple of other boys (apparently doing the same thing), a woman with a puppy (who fortunately kindly kept my daughter thoroughly entertained), a man seemingly actually buying a Bugatti (while his son, who looked completely bored, watched longingly at my enthusiastic bunch, and his dad chatted on the phone about doing the show Friday instead), and a few showroom workers with that expression of man, I hope that lady knows how much these cars cost when one of those boys puts a dent in it with their excitement (or maybe I confused that look with the look of seriously, can't she see we're actually trying to sell cars here--don't get your breath on those windows!).

I loved the comment, "My plan is to start saving now so I can buy one of these when I get my license," my son's friend informed me. "I only have eight dollars, though. I blew the rest on a convertible Lamborghinni remote control car. Why?! Why did I buy the Lambo?!" I suppose that question will haunt him forever, now.

The sheer joy of being surrounded by their dream cars was exhilerating, but the clandestine rebellion was the most exciting part--as the boys circled the showroom time and again they secretly touched every car--twice! Some of them more!

Their conversation said it all: "I'll never wash this finger again!" and "I went to the bathroom in the Bugatti store! Beat that!" Well, how could I? So, we settled for a trip to the ice-cream store next door and an afternoon at the beach house with the future President (who, it turns out, has a pretty good singing voice).

So, the day of simple pleasures would have to end with the birthday boy being surrounded by his brothers and sister and cousins and parents and uncle singing four verses of the Happy Birthday song (I know, huh), while eating our our own attempt at a custom Lamborghinni made entirely of chocolate cake and frosting with a side of Fiery Fudge tabasco ice cream. It may not have been an Aston Martin wrapped up with a bow, but I say "Beat that!"