It’s dangerous sitting in our car.
You never know what living thing you might find.
In recent times, we had roaches.
Because we don’t wash it very regularly and there’s a whole load of eating going on in the backseat.
More to the point, we still don’t really care about car hygiene.
It sounds yuck on paper and I don’t really understand how we can abide a score of baby cockroaches making their way over the seats and under the mats.
But we do.
At least, I do, and I think that is the core of it because everything comes down to me.
The kids squeal and scream when the cockroaches – babies, I think they get away by the time they are adults – periodically come out for the little biscuit crumbs or sweet droppings which are inevitably scattered all over.
When that happens, I sigh. If I am driving and if the girls are standing and running all over the seats, seatbelts unfastened in a panicky tizzy, I yell.
Or maybe I try to squash it if I weren’t driving.
KK complains. Everytime the roaches appear he intones: See why you all should not eat in the car? But it ends with the complaint. No action is taken.
Which is why I think the kids are very very keen on the occasions when I decide to wash the car, at my mum’s, after the roaches have made appearances for, say, several weeks. (they disappear for a while after the cleanings)
It is almost an explosion of relief.
“GIVE ME A CLOTH!” all three of them scream, completely ignoring the TV.
They delegate – Lu on the doors as she can reach them, Jo on the seats, Day on the dashboard – while I shake out the mats then merrily disappear into the house to read the newspapers. After I snatch a few shots.
* That's a very wet seat