My grandson's last day of driver's education was also my daughter's birthday.
An auspicious day for both of them, except this last driving day was to begin at 5:00 a.m.
Dad/husband was out of town, so I volunteered to sleep on the couch and take Max to the high school driving range at 5:00 a.m.
It's the stuff that makes life real and satisfying. Waking in the darkness to the voice of the little guy who made me a grandma. Of knowing I've been a part of his life not only for the first steps, the first soccer game, but driving on a cold dark morning for yet another rite of passage.
And he was wearing shorts.
In the days to come, there would be more participation in his rites of passage. I would watch him scrape off the bumper stickers from his $1500 used car; would help him pass out flyers for his Eagle Scout project. I would search through his bedroom looking for the lost car keys, and I would eventually take him to the Subaru dealership whose phone representative promised they could replace the keys for just $40.
As we got ready to leave, I asked him if he had his title to the car and the money to pay for the key. He looked at me a little bewildered. What?
"Look," I tried to rationalize the pain he was going through, "you have to pay for it. This way you'll never lose your keys again." It made sense to him and he trudged off to retrieve his hard earned cash.
When we got to the dealership, the information had been erroneous. It turned out they had to reprogram the key and they had to have the car on-site. Which meant, he would have to have the car towed. As we were parting, the service rep took pity and gave us the name of the locksmith who would come to the house, pick the lock and program a new key. It would be expensive but not as much as paying for the tow.
Dejected, we left the dealership and both decided his best option was to keep searching for the keys.
Such a tragedy. A legal license to drive, a car in the driveway, a cold day when he missed his ride, and he had to skateboard to school.
A week passed when dear grandson finally called the locksmith. He sucked it up and emotionally reconciled that the new key would cost one-sixth of what the car was worth, or almost all the money in his jar marked Savings.
But the locksmith never told him when he was coming. He called when Max was 40 minutes away and no one else was home. Serendipity compensated when I just happened to pull up in the nick of time. I had the painful job of searching for the money jar and paying for the misplaced key.
Do I help him out? Do I surprise him and pay for it? What is the right thing to do? I remembered telling him when the cost was only $40, if you have to pay for it, you'll never lose keys again.
I was at the crossroads of yet another of his rites of passage and I held my ground. It's not always best to save someone from an important life lesson. Holding back was a rite of passage for me too.
~~
Destiny has a cruel sense of humor.
The next evening while sorting through basement-toy-chaos after they'd been pushed to the center so the room could be painted, his mother on bended knees, let out a little yelp.
"Max's keys!"
No.....
We knew we couldn't tell him, at least right away.
"I shall wrap them for Christmas," she wisely decided.
An auspicious day for both of them, except this last driving day was to begin at 5:00 a.m.
Dad/husband was out of town, so I volunteered to sleep on the couch and take Max to the high school driving range at 5:00 a.m.
It's the stuff that makes life real and satisfying. Waking in the darkness to the voice of the little guy who made me a grandma. Of knowing I've been a part of his life not only for the first steps, the first soccer game, but driving on a cold dark morning for yet another rite of passage.
And he was wearing shorts.
In the days to come, there would be more participation in his rites of passage. I would watch him scrape off the bumper stickers from his $1500 used car; would help him pass out flyers for his Eagle Scout project. I would search through his bedroom looking for the lost car keys, and I would eventually take him to the Subaru dealership whose phone representative promised they could replace the keys for just $40.
As we got ready to leave, I asked him if he had his title to the car and the money to pay for the key. He looked at me a little bewildered. What?
"Look," I tried to rationalize the pain he was going through, "you have to pay for it. This way you'll never lose your keys again." It made sense to him and he trudged off to retrieve his hard earned cash.
When we got to the dealership, the information had been erroneous. It turned out they had to reprogram the key and they had to have the car on-site. Which meant, he would have to have the car towed. As we were parting, the service rep took pity and gave us the name of the locksmith who would come to the house, pick the lock and program a new key. It would be expensive but not as much as paying for the tow.
Dejected, we left the dealership and both decided his best option was to keep searching for the keys.
Such a tragedy. A legal license to drive, a car in the driveway, a cold day when he missed his ride, and he had to skateboard to school.
A week passed when dear grandson finally called the locksmith. He sucked it up and emotionally reconciled that the new key would cost one-sixth of what the car was worth, or almost all the money in his jar marked Savings.
But the locksmith never told him when he was coming. He called when Max was 40 minutes away and no one else was home. Serendipity compensated when I just happened to pull up in the nick of time. I had the painful job of searching for the money jar and paying for the misplaced key.
Do I help him out? Do I surprise him and pay for it? What is the right thing to do? I remembered telling him when the cost was only $40, if you have to pay for it, you'll never lose keys again.
I was at the crossroads of yet another of his rites of passage and I held my ground. It's not always best to save someone from an important life lesson. Holding back was a rite of passage for me too.
~~
Destiny has a cruel sense of humor.
The next evening while sorting through basement-toy-chaos after they'd been pushed to the center so the room could be painted, his mother on bended knees, let out a little yelp.
"Max's keys!"
No.....
We knew we couldn't tell him, at least right away.
"I shall wrap them for Christmas," she wisely decided.
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