There was a Volkswagen commercial running when the girls were babies. I think it was an ad for a Passat wagon.
While groovy music (probably something by Nick Drake) played, we saw a young couple looking back at their baby, who was gurgling happily, strapped into her car-seat. Cut to the same parents looking back at a two -year-old girl and a new baby in a car-seat. Finally, they were looking back at their six-year-old girl, their four-year-old boy and a baby, gurgling happily, strapped into his car-seat.
I don't watch much TV but for whatever reason, this commercial captured me. Maybe because I always imagined myself having three kids. In my family, I was that third baby in the commercial. But also because in the endless debate in my mind between two kids and three, this commercial somehow pushed me towards three (not, ironically, towards buying a Passat).
Here's the kicker. The family was African-American. So, in the end, I took the commercial literally. A year ago, I looked into the backseat of my Prius and saw a seven-year-old girl, a five-year-old girl and a little guy in a car-seat between them. Brown, just like I pictured. And no, he wasn't gurgling happily, he was scratching Lana's cheek with one hand, pulling Mae's pig-tail with the other and shrieking at the top of his lungs.
Maybe I shouldn't watch TV.