Headed up a steep road I let off the gas slightly so a black, roof-top-tented, Tacoma coming up my right hand side can merge in front of me when their lane ends. I immediately regret it. Not for any driving related reason – I’m chill behind the wheel – but because I can actually hear the gears turning in my eight-year-old’s brain as the women driving pulls in front and the Clairebarian sees her large bumper sticker.

Claire: “My. Other. Ride…“

Andrew: *quiet sigh*

C: “…Is. Your. Dad.“

I steal a quick glance in the rear view and I can tell that she’s as fully engaged in deciphering this cryptic message as any vanity plate we’ve ever come across. She starts by mouthing the words, then whispering the words and finally she’s chopping them up out loud. She scrunches up her face.

C: “My other. Ride is your. Dad.”

C: “My other ride is? Your Dad!”

C: “My Other Ride Is YOUR Dad.”

Yep, she’s certain that she’s captured it now. But that only moves us on to the bigger question. I start near-silently singing some Drive-By Truckers: “He was running down the street / When they shot him in his tracks / About the only thing agreed upon / Is he ain’t coming back.” 

C: “Papa, what does that mean ‘my other ride is YOUR dad’ on that car?”

A: “Called it!”

C: “Huh?”

A: “What It Means.“

C: “PAPA!”

I think fast and go with “well, the owner of that Toyota is letting you know she’s having a relationship with your dad.” Claire wants to know who’s dad. Who’s dad? Well, whoever’s reading the bumper sticker. Your dad, my dad, the specific dad doesn’t really matter in this case.

C: “But, you’re my dad.”

A: “True.”

C: “And, your dad is dead.”

A: “Also true.”

C: “So her other ride is not my dad or your dad.”

A: “We should hope not.”

C: “But that means…”

I nod along, yesssss, that means it’s a dumb bumper sticker Claire. Come on. Get there. Subject change pending. I start to smile. Dadjitsu, it’s a martial and mental art. 

C: “…that means you’re not telling me something and I should probably ask Mama instead.”

A: *COUGH*

C: “…”

I mean hey, as outcomes go it’s a close second.