It’s such a proud parenting moment when you learn your kid is setting aside her own schedule to help a friend in need.
I was walking through a throng of high schoolers looking for Miss12 when I heard my name. I glanced around for my nephews. They always call me Uncle Bruce but I figured either they said it and I didn’t hear it or they got over excited amongst their friends and forgot to use my usual title.
Wrong on both counts.
Miss12 was walking towards me.
“Did you just call me Bruce?” I asked her, horrified.
“Well, you didn’t hear me yell ‘Dad’,” she said, way too nonchalantly for my liking. Then she sought to deflect blame. She’s her mother all over, this one. “Anyway, why did you get out of the car?”
“Because,” I said, “you didn’t see me.”
“Yes, I did,” she countered.
“I mean when I drove in,” I said.
“Yes, I did.”
As I’d parked the car some five minutes ago, this seemed unlikely. Or, punishable.
“Well, why didn’t you come over?” I wanted to know. I don’t think I’m over stating it to say the next hour of her life hung in the balance.
“I was helping a friend,” said Miss12, like it was nothing.
Well, not nothing, but certainly understandable. Helping a friend is probably the best ‘get out of jail free’ card there is. It must be said I felt some degree of pride as we walked to the car together.
“That’s really nice of you,” I said, opening the door and meaning it. “Are they okay?”
“Yeah,” said Miss12. Again, she was really blasé about it. In fact, she shot me a look which seemed to question my reaction. “She was trying to steal a teacher’s hat.”
Anyway, the thing I’m trying to take away from this is that she was helping a friend. So proud.
But I really don’t like being called Bruce by my kids. She’s gonna have to work on that.
Raising a family on little more than laughs