Like most other parents over the Christmas school holidays, I’ve been a taxi driver for my boys. They’ve attended sports days, had days at their friend’s house, been to the beach to do a spot of surfing and yesterday, attended a ‘Zookeeper for a Day’ activity at our local Zoo. Needless to say, we’ve spent a lot of time in the car getting from place to place with some pretty interesting conversations taking place.
Yesterday, the boys asked me why we have to wear seat belts when driving in the car. I explained that the seat belt holds you in your seat in the event of an accident and that it is the law.
“So what would happen if you weren’t wearing one?” Lachlan asked.
“I would probably go flying through the windscreen and end up badly injured,” I replied, not wanting to be overly graphic, but not tap dancing around the subject either. It’s important for them to be aware of safety. “And that wouldn’t be very good for you boys, would it?” I finished.
“No, definitely not,” said Rylan. I felt kind of chuffed, albeit in a morbid kind of way, that he was so protective of me. Then he continued, “because we don’t know the way home from here and none of us are old enough to drive the car.”
Really? That’s the worst thing? You won’t be able to get home? Gee, sorry to ruin your travel plans. Where did I go wrong? They are supposed to cherish and adore me – boys always love their mums. What about something like, ‘that would be bad because we love you more than anything and would never want you to be hurt’???
“Are you kidding me?” I said. “That’s why it would be bad for you lot? That’s the only reason?” Come on! I know that you are boys, but seriously…
Lachlan added, “Rylan, don’t be silly.” Ah, thankyou – someone who cares about me. “If mum crashed the car then no one would be able to drive it anywhere, because it would be, like, all broken and stuff. “ Five year old logic at work.
Silence from me, other than the sound of my heart breaking, and the suppression of a giggle.
“Ethan, do you have anything to add to this discussion, being the eldest?” I asked. He is a softie, an emotionally overt boy, surely he’d say something nice? “Ummm, it would also be bad because…ummm…well…Dad can’t cook and we’d probably starve to death if you weren’t there to make the food.”
“Well now, “ I say, “that’s just extra motivation for me to ensure that I buckle up properly, isn’t it? I wouldn’t want you lot to arrive home LATE for an INEDIBLE dinner, would I?”
So, what should I take away from this discussion? I guess that’s a roundabout way of saying that they like my cooking? And that they appreciate arriving places on time? That they know the truth about their father’s cooking? I know one thing for sure… I better get some real, super-loved-up, kick arse mother’s day drawings and cards next year to make up for this blunder. Emotional cripples.