Eating Words
Copyright 2006 by Suzy Wurtz
I’ve
been eating my words for breakfast lately.
A few years ago, our daughter started uttering phrases like
“red jeep” and “green mini-cooper.” I was quick to tell her that she most
certainly was not going to get her own car when she turned 16. I assured her
that she would always have a car available, but it would be from the “family
fleet,” not her own vehicle. We would all share all the cars.
I believe this is when I also told her that her father and I
used to walk five miles to school, uphill both ways.
At age 14, she secured a part time job, and I lectured that
any monies she imagined for a car payment would go into a college savings fund
instead. She didn’t need her own car. We had plenty of cars, I repeated.
Of course, in her mind, all of our vehicles were “old people
cars.” She was right about the old part. Many people sell their autos when the
odometer reaches 100,000 miles. That’s when we buy them. A “brand new “car to
me is one that’s less than 10 years old. Plus, because we live in a snowy
climate, I like heavier sedans. You can see her teenage dilemma.
Last year, my husband and I went to dinner with some friends
and shared our car philosophy. Our companions steadfastly disagreed and
countered that in 2006 rural Minnesota, many kids had their own cars. They said
we were out of touch.
As regular readers know, the child in question turned 16
recently and secured a driver’s license despite her anxious mother. But she had
balked at driving our mini-van one day because it was uncool. I was adamant
that all vehicles in the “fleet” were created equal and no snobbery was
allowed. She unhappily drove the van.
Not coincidentally, our aforementioned friends called my
husband with “an offer he couldn’t refuse.” They said they had a relative who
needed to “get rid of a car.” It was small by my standards (a Neon). It had
good tires. It had been serviced regularly. It had fewer than 100,000 miles.
They offered us a price that was too good to be true.
And it was RED.
My husband and I stewed for couple of weeks contemplating
adding this cute car to the mix, knowing full well that it would become the
teen’s vehicle. Because it was such a great offer, we even considered buying it
and hiding it in the garage at our office because we just weren’t ready to eat
the words we’d been spouting for years.
So, we did what grownups are supposed to do. We changed our
minds. We weighed the pros and cons and told her about the car. A large chunk
of the cost would come from her savings. It would still be in our “family fleet”
but she could be the primary driver. She was possibly both the happiest and the
most surprised teen in Minnesota that night.
“How could you change your mind after all these years?” she
asked, still stunned.
My husband shrugged. “Parents are allowed to do that,” he
said. And his broad smile matched hers.
I immediately made her promise that she would do any
household chore that I asked, run errands, and never talk back to me. She
agreed.
And yes, as our petite blonde drives off in the red car, I’ve
been eating my words for breakfast daily.
But after a while, they actually taste good.
| Column List| |Next
Column |
Back to Top
