I will start with mine. I think our trip out west was a true test of my parents' patience. Two and a half weeks in a minivan across the country with three girls will grind on a patron saints' nerves, but we survived and Kristen lost her first tooth.
Megan aided this process on our scourge through Wyoming. The best angle was directly on top of the victim, wiggling that stubborn tooth vigorously. The tooth fairy's visit proved its value.
The minivan has been a source of naps, fights, and transportation to menial everyday things.
A sedan couldn't have cut it for running between gymnastics, grocery shopping, and church.
After scouring the albums, I also figured out that we had a few wild donkeys invade our van in South Dakota.
My cousin Landon's favorite memory? When my dad was whipping around the
Gatlinburg Mountains and his grandpa was rolling his eyes while saying
"whoa there Merrill." They were on their way to golf.
My mom and sister both said that they loved the family vacations in the van. We packed the car top carrier so full, it was a miracle it didn't pop open more than once. (That was another story.)
My dad's favorite memory? When my sister slammed his hand in the door. I slammed her hand in the door. It was a cycle of abuse.
My parents still own a minivan. We are all grown and there aren't any grandchildren, but the minivan has helped us move (time and time again), take countless trips to Ohio, Florida, Illinois, and just about anywhere we travel, and seems to be really handy when transporting the latest supply of seasonal clothing and groceries from momma to the kid who is still in school.
Oh minivan, how we love you so.
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