NASCAR, here I come!

A couple of days ago the big girls and I were out running around when Big Daddy and Scooter came to meet us at Costco for a high time at the warehouse store.

After we had loaded the mini van with big old bags of frozen foods, the big girls went with BD, and Scooter switched over to my car. As she was buckling her seatbelt, Scoot said, "I bet we gonna beat Daddy, Momma."

I told her, "Oh honey, Mommy drives real slow and we're not ever gonna beat Daddy." Bless her heart, I didn't see any sense in getting her hopes up.

"Aw, man."

We stopped to pick up dinner, and as we pulled back out onto the street I said, "Scoot, we're definitely not gonna beat Daddy now." And then a little lightbulb went on over my head.

I called BD on the cell phone and asked him where he was. He was just a couple miles ahead of us, so I asked him to pull over.

"Okay, what for?"

"Scoot wants to talk to you. Hold on."

Scooter stayed on the phone, talking to BD, Tink, Pooh and BD again until we passed them sitting in a parking lot, and then she said, "We're gonna beat you, suckers!"

And because I am, indeed, slow, BD actually passed us again and Scooter begged him on the phone to let us win, which we did, by a hair.

And my girl was satisfied.