Source: Invaluable.com
When I heard about an eight-year old who drove a car thirteen miles to get herself a Frappuccino, after spending $400 at Target, it just confirmed that I would be a terrible parent because my first instinct was to laugh for an hour. After that my second instinct was to be relieved that no one was hurt, although she did say she hit a mailbox, and then my third instinct was to start laughing again.
Maybe I’d feel differently if it were my child but I’m generally a terrible role model. The six-year old son of a friend of mine didn’t get something he wanted and yelled “I’m gonna hold my breath until I pass out!” My friend said, “Fine, go ahead and do it.” The kid ran into the other room and was quiet for about ten minutes then he ran back in and said “I did it!” I patted him on the shoulder and said, “We shall watch your career with great interest.” That earned me a look from my friend that said, “Don’t encourage him, and also I’m trying really hard not to laugh right now.”
That also reminded me of a time in ninth grade gym class when, for some reason, a popular girl named Danielle and I were sitting on the bleachers. I was feeling pretty awkward, though that had nothing to do with Danielle. I was awkward around other people, even my friends, from the ages of twelve to, well, I still am, and sometimes I’m awkward even when I’m completely alone, but that’s another story. Danielle turned to me and said, “You’re a smart guy,” and I had to look around and make sure we were alone because it was rare that popular girls talked to me in the first place, though I figured maybe it was okay because there was no one else around. Also I didn’t realize anyone thought of me as smart. “Maybe you can help me out with something,” she went on, and told me she’d been taking her mother’s car out when she was home alone. This seemed like a perfectly normal thing for a fourteen year-old to do, or so I thought, since I never even tried to start my parents’ car when they weren’t around, and I was about as far from being a normal fourteen year-old as you could get.
Danielle told me she’d hit a wall and while the damage wasn’t bad—just serious scratches on the side that could probably be buffed out and repainted—she was afraid. “My mom won’t think it’s a big deal but her boyfriend’s gonna kick my ass if he finds out.”
My first thought was, your mom needs to find a new boyfriend, but that didn’t seem helpful, but I did suggest that she admit what happened to her mom when the boyfriend wasn’t around and maybe they could work something out.
This didn’t seem like a smart solution so much as a really obvious one but Danielle thanked me. And a few days later, in the hall, surrounded by her friends, she actually called out to me by name and said, “Hey, it worked!”
Hey, Chris! I love this story for so many reasons. And I think you’re a great role model.
My hope is always to be a good role model even when it means being a little bit bad, like when I encouraged my friend’s son who claimed he held his breath until he passed out.