I don’t have any stick figure children. I can’t even imagine how difficult it is to deliver pointy babies. I do, however, own a minivan. Honey, I fought it for years. I packed my children in the back of an SUV like sardines. A 5 minute trip across town was hell. They would fight, “Stop touching me.” “He touched me first.” Then, I came to the realization that the car I drive doesn’t define me. I can still look good in a minivan bitch. It may not be your definition of cool, but do you know what? My kids can’t touch each other.
Now, this Dad may want to think twice before bragging about his stick figure daughter: