Rite of Passage
It was bound to happen.
I sent The Child off in the early evening with bags of hand-me downs for the M St. Gang. She returned and called out, asking if she could speak to me in her room. She sounded just fine and I figured she was going to angle for a sleep-over or something. But when I got to her room she was engulfed in sobs, clutching her stomach, face distorted in pain.
"Oh! Mommy! I broke a car window onaccidentandI'msososorry! I'll pay for it! I'll do whatever I have to do, Mommy...." and then she was overtaken again by crying.
I told her to stay in her room and went to check my car. Which was fine. A glance at The Spouse's jeep showed all was well there, too.
I returned to her for clarification. "No, Mommy. Not our car. Someone else". By this time, by the way, she had retrieved her piggybank and was clutching it to her belly.
We went out of the house and she took me down the street to a neighbors, lovely Orthodox people who live in the house that Kenny G grew up in. (Yeah, our block's claim to fame). And it's bad, my friends. It looked like she'd put a bullet through it...nice big hole with all -and I mean all - of the safety glass pebbled and frosty, just ready to collapse at the merest vibration.
"You know what you have to do, right?" I asked her.
"I have to tell Mr. A and tell him I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I swear I'll pay for it, Mommy", she added, holding out the piggy bank as evidence of her sincerity.
I took the bank from her. "Honey, trust me, you don't have enough in there. We'll work it out".
So we go to the door and Mr. A comes, still chewing as we'd interrupted dinner. The Spouse, who'd joined the procession by now, took the lead and apologized for the interruption but that The Child had something to tell him.
Still hysterically crying she sobs out, "I'm so sorry Mr. A. I brokethewindowofyourcar. I'msososorry".
We go to survey the scene and Mr. A, like me, was a little surprised at the extent of the damage. But he put his hand on her shoulder and said, "Alright now. You can stop crying, honey. It's just a thing and things can be fixed". (God bless Mr. A and all his decendents forever. Selah).
Of course, he's about to leave town with his wife and the car was going to be used by his son who'll be watching the house so The Spouse is making the arrangements today for one of those auto glass places with vans to come and deal with it as soon as possible.
Back home I do some hugging and consoling while The Spouse looks at on-line quotes. Then he and I have a post-mortem conference.
"It's going to cost at least $500".
"Ouch".
A pause to absorb it all.
"She feels really bad".
"I don't want her to feel bad. Things like this happen".
"No," I said, "I'm kinda glad. It means she has a conscience. It means she knows right from wrong. It's good that she feels remorse and told the truth right away and took responsibility".
"Yeah. I guess we're teaching her the right things. I still wish she didn't feel bad".
Nice daddy.
Later, she told me that she wanted to bake a cake for Mr. A but she can't because they keep kosher. So she's going to write a note and draw a picture of the cake she'd make him if she could.
We've all done it, haven't we? Put a baseball through someone's plate class window, knocked Great-grand Nana's heirloom teapot to the floor while scrounging for cookies we were told we couldn't have. It's a part of growing up. There's nothing quite like it, though, the first time you really wish you could turn back time and alter just one little thing so something much bigger and worse doesn't happen. And if you're fortunate, the neighbor isn't a bad ass who yells at you and makes it worse and your parents don't cane you for being, well, a kid.
Oh. And how did she manage to bust out the window in the first place? Skipping rocks on the sidewalk.
I sent The Child off in the early evening with bags of hand-me downs for the M St. Gang. She returned and called out, asking if she could speak to me in her room. She sounded just fine and I figured she was going to angle for a sleep-over or something. But when I got to her room she was engulfed in sobs, clutching her stomach, face distorted in pain.
"Oh! Mommy! I broke a car window onaccidentandI'msososorry! I'll pay for it! I'll do whatever I have to do, Mommy...." and then she was overtaken again by crying.
I told her to stay in her room and went to check my car. Which was fine. A glance at The Spouse's jeep showed all was well there, too.
I returned to her for clarification. "No, Mommy. Not our car. Someone else". By this time, by the way, she had retrieved her piggybank and was clutching it to her belly.
We went out of the house and she took me down the street to a neighbors, lovely Orthodox people who live in the house that Kenny G grew up in. (Yeah, our block's claim to fame). And it's bad, my friends. It looked like she'd put a bullet through it...nice big hole with all -and I mean all - of the safety glass pebbled and frosty, just ready to collapse at the merest vibration.
"You know what you have to do, right?" I asked her.
"I have to tell Mr. A and tell him I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I swear I'll pay for it, Mommy", she added, holding out the piggy bank as evidence of her sincerity.
I took the bank from her. "Honey, trust me, you don't have enough in there. We'll work it out".
So we go to the door and Mr. A comes, still chewing as we'd interrupted dinner. The Spouse, who'd joined the procession by now, took the lead and apologized for the interruption but that The Child had something to tell him.
Still hysterically crying she sobs out, "I'm so sorry Mr. A. I brokethewindowofyourcar. I'msososorry".
We go to survey the scene and Mr. A, like me, was a little surprised at the extent of the damage. But he put his hand on her shoulder and said, "Alright now. You can stop crying, honey. It's just a thing and things can be fixed". (God bless Mr. A and all his decendents forever. Selah).
Of course, he's about to leave town with his wife and the car was going to be used by his son who'll be watching the house so The Spouse is making the arrangements today for one of those auto glass places with vans to come and deal with it as soon as possible.
Back home I do some hugging and consoling while The Spouse looks at on-line quotes. Then he and I have a post-mortem conference.
"It's going to cost at least $500".
"Ouch".
A pause to absorb it all.
"She feels really bad".
"I don't want her to feel bad. Things like this happen".
"No," I said, "I'm kinda glad. It means she has a conscience. It means she knows right from wrong. It's good that she feels remorse and told the truth right away and took responsibility".
"Yeah. I guess we're teaching her the right things. I still wish she didn't feel bad".
Nice daddy.
Later, she told me that she wanted to bake a cake for Mr. A but she can't because they keep kosher. So she's going to write a note and draw a picture of the cake she'd make him if she could.
We've all done it, haven't we? Put a baseball through someone's plate class window, knocked Great-grand Nana's heirloom teapot to the floor while scrounging for cookies we were told we couldn't have. It's a part of growing up. There's nothing quite like it, though, the first time you really wish you could turn back time and alter just one little thing so something much bigger and worse doesn't happen. And if you're fortunate, the neighbor isn't a bad ass who yells at you and makes it worse and your parents don't cane you for being, well, a kid.
Oh. And how did she manage to bust out the window in the first place? Skipping rocks on the sidewalk.
Labels: The Neighbor
cobbled together by Moi at 8:12 AM
25 Comments:
Wow. The price of sidewalk rock skipping has really gone up.
What a great kid. And a great daddy and mom.
I think you need to tell us all about Nana's teapot now, though.
I'm so proud.
I once tossed a small rock over the backyard fence and it put a hole in the neighbor's basement window.
I never told anyone.
Nicole, No kidding. I figure I'm going to have to assign a monetary value to some not-particularly-enjoyed chore and have her work it off. Because there ain't enough lemonade stand customers or babysitting gigs to pay this off anytime soon.
Thanks, Jon. We are pretty proud of her at the moment and it's always nice when you get a hint that you aren't completely fracking up your kid. And I didn't break Nana's teapot. Sounds like something Sling would do. Actually, I know I did something equivelent but I can't really remember the details...just that "if only I hadn't" feeling. If I can pull it up from the dark reaches of my brain's data base I'll let you know.
Well, you should be, Uncle JP. And as for your childhood indiscretion, you have now come clean. Don't you feel better? Now, don't do it again, young man!
Buttons are popping, Charlie. She's a good kid, when all is said and done.
With a hell of an arm. I'm thinking relief pitcher for the Ms
Wow, who'd have imagined skipping a rock on a sidewalk could break a car window! Shoot, I've had them tossed at me in excess of 70mph from a passing car's wheels and have only had a rock chip that needed repair, not a shattered-into-safety-glass-bits kind of break. Poor kid. And I will chime in - great kid. Really great kid.
Gina, Truly. It was either a fracking huge rock or, as The Spouse suggests, we get her down to Ms headquarters immediately.
She's got a couple of great parents, and Mr. A sounds pretty swell himself.
But on another note, Kenny G grew lived in a house on your block? That's so cool.
S&C, That note you're hearing? It's a sustained C. I think. I'll show you the house at Thanksgiving.
This is actually kind of heart-warming. What a good kid.
"Rite of Passage" followed by 'It was bound to happen'.
I thought you were going to tell us she got her period.
I was then afraid that she might break something other than a windshield if you were to blog on it.
Iwanski. Yeah, pretty heart-warming. Except for the price tag. But the burgeoning moral fiber of The Child is priceless. Like Charlie said.
Edy, Ha! I wondered who'd go there. But you're right. She was cool with me telling THIS story. When that other rite of passage hits I'm thinking not so much. "Mommmmm!"
My childhood rite of passage?
My sister and I were playing drive-thru (with our dolls strapped in the back seat) when we rolled our parent's Jeep down the driveway into our neighbor's new station wagon. My mom ran out of the house while it was happening and tried to stop the Jeep with her 110-lb. frame and wound up in the ER needing stitches across her forehead.
Consider yourselves lucky.
P.S. My mom wasn't letting us play in the Jeep. We were being sneaky about it.
Renee, You so win. JP, Don't you feel better now?
Wow. And then, wow.
Renee is cool.
Well, Renee is cool, but more to the point, she's damn lucky. As is her precious mom. Sheesh.
A very good kid you have there. It really is something to be proud of when they do it right, which then means that you did it right. Such a good girl..
put that kid on the pitching mound!
When I was thirteen, I tied my little brother to the side of the house, climbed on the roof and repeatedly spit on him. It wasn't an accident though.
what interesting tales you've led others to share...some of your commenters have led very "interesting" childhoods, it seems. ;) Yeah, the Ms definitely need that girl!
See?! She's a jewel. You are doing things right! Nowadays kids tend to not own up to mistakes or have any conscience. She has all that and generosity to boot.
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