This morning, before the sun poured over the Sandias, Reni and I were outside, me sipping my coffee and him scanning the pink sky for balloons. Since the balloons weren't quite close enough to be visible from our yard, he decided that he wanted to drive his car. The mini-Mini Cooper that he got for his birthday that gives me heart palpitations when I see him or Anika careening around the pool in it, giving Nascar a run for its money.
He opened the door, sat down, turned the ignition switch, and put his hands on the wheel. He pushed the pedal and the car inched forward. "It's not working," he said with a sigh. I reminded him that the battery needed recharging and that I hadn't had time to do it yet.
Truth is, the 12-volt battery sits under the passenger seat and is large and cumbersome. I only saw it once, as we had the car assembled by some unlucky person employed by Toys R Us, and a few days after bringing it home, Anika had taken the seat off because, well, she takes everything apart. She had taken both seats off, in fact. And was working on the bumper before I convinced her that a car together was better than a car in pieces.
Anyway, this morning I dialed Armando and told him that I wanted him to do it, because I seem to have the Luddite touch when it comes to anything requiring any sort of knack for doing anything technical. Like, I really suck at it. So I told him that, along with relaying the fact that Reni seemed excited for his first day of school, and then I turned around and saw Reni, huddled over the space where the passenger seat used to be, fiddling with the wires.
I honestly have no idea how he knew the battery was in there, unless he heard me tell Armando about it being under the seat. When Anika took the car apart (at least the time I knew about), Reni was napping. I have no idea how Reni got the seat off that quickly. Or that quietly.
Anyway, the little engineer looked up at me and said, matter-of-factly, "This car is broken. Daddy fix it. I help daddy."
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