Sprung bad

Steve jumped into a taxi today (inside our newly completed garage ohmygodIknowcanyoubelieveit'sfinally FINISHED??) and the driver asked him where he wanted her to take him.

"To the city, please," he replied.

The car didn't move. The driver didn't acknowledge she'd heard. A few moments later, I heard Steve say (for I was sweeping leaves nearby), "Umm, driver? Can we go to the city now?"

"Inna minute...." came the authoritative reply. "I'm just reading the paper."

"Oh. Ok." Steve sat glumly with hands folded in his lap, looking at me through the side window. I crumpled with silent laughter as the driver continued to fold over the pages of her imaginary newspaper in the front seat.

"Just checking my lipssssssstick....." she then said absent-mindedly, as if stalling but not exactly knowing what she was stalling for, checking her reflection in the visor mirror before busily flipping it back into its horizontal position.

The car then went through a series of gear crunches and there were copious amounts of corners being turned from what I could see.

I left them to it, coming inside to grab a cup of tea. And realised that now, my husband thinks I bundle our child in the car and torment her by strapping her in so I can gallavant about town, reading the paper idly and checking my lippy whilst airily dismissing her requests from the backseat.