FOX: The automatic locking system in our car is broken on your door. This means we have to put you in on the other side and wait while you shuffle over and unlock the door from the inside. A lot of the time, however, you get distracted along the way. You find a toy or some other artifact on the floor and pick it up, forgetting all about your original mission. Half the time you stop to play with the seat buckles, prompting me to pound on the door and point to the lock in a futile effort to refocus you. Once you have reached your door you look up and flash a cheesy smile at me. You reach over and tug at the lock with your chubby little butterfingers. Sometimes you get it on your first or second attempt. Most of the time you don’t. What on earth did people do before central locking?
LAMB: You usually don’t like it when we opt for car windows down over air-con. “Too windy!” you protest, holding your hair down to the sides of your head. But today you giggled while little strands of renegade hair (the ones that always manage to break free no matter what I do) danced in front of your face.