Monday the boys clammered into the van after Read Right Run practice. "Mom," Meiners whined. "Today T made me be buddies with him and I wanted to be buddies with my friend."
I paused to inhale a big breath. My Wednesday small group ladies have been devouring Lysa Terkeurst's book Unglued, and this could definitely become one of those destructive meltdown mommy moments if I wasn't careful. First of all, that whole whining thing? It immediately shoves me angrily plummeting over the rocky ledge. But loyalty to family is a trait we constantly impress upon our children and here was my son bucking that concept. Boldly.
"Son," I exhaled. "I don't care what friend or what girl is on whatever team or space you are in from here to eternity." I began. "When your brother asks you to help him by buddying up, you buddy up. Period. The end."
I don't suppose this concept flies everyone's kite out in the world, but that is how this family rolls.
Two hours later, I sat in the van in the driveway of T's violin teacher with the two little kids. The radio played; the rain poured; I may or may not have taken a nap. Apparently, the lights of the van were left on. When I turned the key in the ignition to take us all home, there was a *click click click.* And then there was nothing.
My brother- and sister-in-law live just around the corner from violin lessons. We live a long way from there. I called my sister-in-law and, within a few minutes, her husband was on his way to save us from our cul-de-sac nightmare.
Later, as we drove home, my boys marveled at how blood really is thicker than water.
Thanks, Uncle Michael, for saving the day ~ and for giving your nephews a nice little object lesson. You're a family hero!
