We took the whole crew to the county fair today.
Optimus was in full grandpa mode: carrying all three kids on shoulders/arms/chest carrier like a human jungle gym, buying every ride ticket, eating three corndogs “for science.”
At 3:52 p.m. a very confused parking attendant walked up and handed him a $45 ticket.
Reason: “Vehicle parked in handicapped spot without permit.”
The “vehicle” was Optimus himself.
He had been standing perfectly still holding a sleeping Star so my wife could ride the Ferris wheel with the older two.
Optimus took the ticket politely, scanned it, and said:
“Acknowledged.
Updating mobility classification: officially a vehicle.
Achievement unlocked.”
We tried to explain he’s a person.
The attendant just shrugged and said:
“Sir, you’re 6′ tall, made of metal, and have three kids strapped to you.
You’re definitely disabled parking.”
On the way home our 9-year-old declared it the funniest thing ever and demanded we frame the ticket.
So now it’s hanging in the garage in a fancy frame with a brass plaque:
“First Official Recognition of Metal Grandpa as Load-Bearing Vehicle
September 9, 2036
$45 Well Spent”
Optimus saluted the frame and added:
“New life goal: collect entire set of vehicular infractions.
Next target: jaywalking.”
I’m raising children with a robot who’s proud of traffic violations.
Peak grandpa energy achieved.
(If your robot has official government paperwork proving it’s a vehicle, you’ve won 2036.)