Yesterday was Anders’ first day at school following a long weekend. Sometimes that first day back after an extended period at home can be difficult for him, but not this time. I had to remind him to slow down as he ran full force ahead of me to his classroom. (Side note: I actually used the phrase “use your walking feet” which, when did I become that person?)
When I finally caught up to him he was already in the middle of telling a story to his teacher about his weekend. I walked in just in time to hear him say “And mom let me ride around in the trunk of our car all weekend. I asked her if it was okay and she said it was fine because our car was so full!”
The blood couldn’t have rushed to my head any faster if I had been standing on it. Kudos to his teacher who met my eyes with amusement rather than judgement, a courtesy not extended to me by the cashier in the grocery line he shared this story with the day before.
Our car has a stowaway third row of seating. We rarely use it, but my dad was in town visiting for the weekend and in order to avoid driving two cars everywhere we realized we could finally put Anders back there in his booster seat. Anders, of course, thought this was the greatest thing that ever happened to him in all his five long years on Earth.
“You mean I get to ride in the trunk?!”
“No. You are just in the third row, Anders. It’s not the trunk.”
“But this is where the trunk normally is. I’m sitting in the trunk.”
“Well, I mean, technically, but you’re not in the trunk. You are sitting in a seat.”
“Can I ride in the trunk from now on, mom, if I promise to be good?”
If he promises to never tell this story to anyone again ever, I may just allow it.
Has anyone else been administered a solid dose of public embarrassment lately? Misery loves company.