I don't know how you feel about getting into a hot car, but I don't mind.
Especially when it's a little chilly out and your car has been sitting in the sun. It feels delicious to me.
But even in summer, it's fine.
My son, on the other hand, acts like you're asking him to dive into boiling oil. Hot car = drama trauma. It's easiest to cool it down before you even suggest that he stick a toe in.
I can't remember if I've told you about our new house rule that you have to be wearing pants or at least underwear when guests are coming over.
No guests unless you have your undies on.
(I might mention here that while it applies to everyone, the only household members I have to enforce it with are under four feet tall.)
We get in the door and within minutes or sometimes only moments, they are all, oh good lord I have to take these cumbersome pants off off off! And I need to poop, so could you help me with this shirt as well?
So. Much. Better. Naked.
Or nanga punga, as our friend Gud says. Nanga punga!
So we have all this nudity in our house and are very casual about it, and they're very comfortable talking about their body parts.
So yesterday we were out running errands with the car, and I'd gotten the car started and all cooled down before His Highness deigned to sit down. I'd left the grocery cart next to the car so I could get everyone settled and then put things in the trunk.
I was standing outside of the car leaning across my seat to plug in the GPS.
Betty said, "Hey, Jordan, your mama is has her bottom sticking out of the car."
And Jordan said, "That's not her bottom! Girls don't have bottoms. MAMA IS STICKING HER KAGINA OUT OF THE CAR! Hey, Mama, you want to put your kagina in the car so it can get cool?"