Friday, April 29, 2011
We have a side car garage. When my husband, Josh, and I moved into our house six years ago, I claimed the right side, and he claimed the left. That was, until I pulled into the garage for the first time and scraped the side of my car. I quickly jumped out of my scraped car and claimed the left side of the garage. We then had an understanding that anytime I drove Josh’s car, I was to park in the driveway, and he would pull it into the garage.
Fast forward a few years to last summer. At that point, we had our two and half year old son, Preston, and I was pregnant with our daughter, Emory. One Saturday morning, we were getting ready to paint the nursery. We needed some additional paint supplies, so Preston and I jumped in the car (Josh’s car), and headed to the store while Josh continued to prep the room.
On our return home, I was feeling overly confident as we pulled into the driveway. So, I decided to pull the car into the garage. All of a sudden, there was a horribly loud scraping noise! Preston in the back seat exclaimed,
“Mommy, what happened?!”
“Mommy just had an accident in Daddy’s car!” I sadly replied.
“An akasikent?!” He innocently asked. “Why?”
“Yes, an accident. I don’t know why.”
I quickly assessed the situation and knew that I had to pull back out of the garage to straighten up the car while trying to avoid hitting my car on the other side of the garage. As I was maneuvering the car and paying close attention to the other car, there was an even louder ripping sound that echoed through the garage.
“Mommy, what was that?! Another akasikent?”
“Yes…That was the mirror.”
I just stopped. We both got out of the car and went to check out the damage.
“Mommy, what’s this?” He asked, innocently picking up a piece of car on the driveway.
“That’s a piece of car,” I said, for lack of a better description.
“A piece of car? From the akasikent?.......Hey, mommy, what’s that?” He asked pointing at the mirror dangling from the car.
I knew that Josh wouldn’t be too happy at the predicament I was in. At that moment, I had an evil thought.
“Hey Preston, will you go inside and tell Daddy that Mommy had an accident in his car?”
He quickly walked to the door and met Josh as he was coming into the garage.
“Daddy, Daddy….Mommy had an akasikent in your car,” he explained as he handed him the piece of car.
Josh took the piece of car, looked at Preston and then at his pregnant wife. He quickly asked if we were okay and when I confirmed, he looked at me with a half-grin and shook his head.
Now, almost a year later, Preston still recalls the accident and will periodically say, “Mommy, remember when you had an accident in Daddy’s car?” I usually sigh and better recall the way I used my child to deliver bad news with the hopes of softening the blow.
Have you ever used your child to deliver bad news?