Road Rage

At our baby shower in the summer, Sean’s boss gave Owen a bouncing red race car to hang in a doorway.  He recently has grown enough to use it:

Is that not funny?  I was at work the first time Owen took his car for a spin, but I’m told it didn’t end well, since Dorothy saw him bobbing there and decided to treat him as if he were a chubby piñata.  Needless to say, there were tears. 

We’ve put him back in it a few times since then though, and he likes it for about ten minutes or so—but it seems to take him a few attempts before he decides something is okay (being carried in the bjorne for example, is no longer cause for screaming bloody murder; in fact, he likes it).

Anyway, as all toys seem to do these days (why?  No really, why?!), the car plays music.  In fact, it plays a kind of diabolical version of Oh Susanna.  It’s Oh Susanna played allegro agitate, and what really ups the ante is that the whole time it is playing, Owen is unknowingly honking the horn, which is placed by his elbow.  So it goes something like this:  Oh Susanna!  Oh HONK don’t you HONK cry for HONK me!  For I’ve come from HONK HONK HONK Alabama HONK with a HONK banjo on my knee HONK HONK.  It is quite a cacophony.  And all the while Owen is trying to chew the dashboard and getting a bit enraged that he can’t put whole bits of it into his mouth.

Right now we have to put a cushion under his feet so he can touch the ground, but once his legs get longer and he can really bounce, I think he will like spending a bit of time going for a drive in his speedster.  Because of his teletubby shape (due to his bumgenius cloth diapers) he tends to get a bit stuck in the seat on the way out.  How embarrassing!  And like many a driver, he is not immune from a little road rage: