I busted my husband last night.
I was waiting for him to come home with my daughter after soccer practice so I kept watching out the front window. So I saw his car pull into the cul-de-sac. And I saw my daughter sitting in the front seat.
He beat my daughter into the house so I asked him, "When did your daughter turn twelve?"
Oh, maybe it's important here to note to you non-parenting types that you're not supposed to let a child under twelve sit in the front seat because it is not safe with the passenger side airbags most cars have today.
Well, that interrupts the flow of a mediocre story. Suddenly I feel like a late night talk show host whose story has gone nowhere. Anyway...
He gave me a sheepish look.
Of course it took my daughter forever to get into the house, because she's...well...her, so I both teased him and let him know that I didn't like that at all. He was so busted.
I decided not to say anything to her because I knew she would feel so guilty.
My son wasn't privy to any of this. But this morning as we were pulling though the drop off area at school he loudly pointed out, "Look! That little girl is in the front seat. That's not a good idea!"
My daughter got instantly silent.
But my son went on and on. "That's dangerous. Her daddy should know better."
I swear my son and I aren't in cahoots. We're just two peas in a rule following pod.
No comments:
Post a Comment