After traveling all over the West coast, attending computer conferences, getting sick, and playing catchup, I felt like it was time to unwind and just do something fun before work snuck up on me Monday. So, I surprised the spouse by announcing I’d like to have the niece (6.5) and nephew (3) come over for the day. My intent was to take photographs and go out to dinner. Connie, their mother, was happy to oblige.
The kids showed up and made a bee-line to the toy area. I’d seeded it with a number of things from a My Pretty Pony and Barbie to trucks and a Nurf airplane. The kids tore into the cache and had a blast, and as always, this escalates to chases around the house, and it ended with Erich and I throwing the Nurf airplane back and forth back and forth from the top and bottom stairs.
With the sun going down, I decided it was time to pull out the photography equipment before we lost what light we had. I had this new setup that was a huge backdrop, allowing the kids to spread out and not have a cluttered scene. Erich insisted on wearing a tie that was far too long, and Madison wanted to make exaggerated body contortions — which, as we were all surprised, turned out to be some of the best photos we got of the event.
We wrapped up by going out to eat, and the kids asked for Mac’n’Cheese and a salad. With this meal came a set of saltine crackers. Two in a sealed pack.
I looked over at Madison and complained “I didn’t get any crackers!” And in her nearly 7 year old playful way, moved hers safely out of reach from me.
That’s when Erich tugged on my shirt. “Uncle Walt, you can share mine.” And he handed me his one and only cracker package. It’s things like this that tug on your heart strings.
“Thank you Erich,” I said, not really wanting the crackers, but appreciating the gesture, and started to open it. I was quickly interrupted.
“No, no — they’re special, for dessert,” he corrected me. So, I took the crackers and proped them up against the table decoration so we could watch them in growing anticipation.
The meal progressed better that you might expect for two kids who might be more interested in playing with their uncle than eating. But finally the moment arrived, Erich declared we were done and may now have our crackers.
He reached over, took the two cracker pack, and struggled to get through the plastic wrap. This is what I love about Connie’s kids, they’ve been taught not to whine and fuss when they get frustrated, but simply ask an adult for help.
“Uncle Walt, can you help me open this?” Erich asked in his charming little voice.
“Sure, Erich. I can help you.” And I took the crackers, opened the wrap just enough so that he could complete the task, and handed it back to him.
Now remembering that it was difficult to open when he handed it to me, Erich used the same mega-human super strength to remove the crackers after I had returned it to him. One went flying on the floor, the other he caught in his hand in a move that would have made Spiderman proud.
Erich looked at the cracker in his hand, then me, then the floor, then back at me. And in the saddest, most compassionate voice he said, “Ohhhh nooooo,….”, he looks back at the floor, “…that one was YOURS.”
Then, with cracker still in his hand, he eats it — right in front of me, no compulsion nor guilt.
It was starting to get late, and Erich had to give up his place on my lap so that Madison could also do situps (it took a while for the check to arrive, so I was keeping the kids busy and trying to wear them out). Erich wasn’t happy, started to get a little fussy, so mom started counting slowly to three.
As every child knows, you never want mom to actually reach three. Erich got to mom, wimpering, by two. In his mind he wasn’t done doing situps, and it wasn’t fair.
We were ready to leave, but Erich didn’t want to go until he got to do his set of situps. Unfortunately, there wasn’t time.
“Hey Erich!!! You wanna go back to my place?”
“No.”
And I blurted it out, the ultimate bribe… “You can drive!”
His eyes lit up, and what I originally intended as a funny joke, became a solid promise in his mind. His demeanor changed instantly, and he announced to mom, the waitress, the people sitting at the table near us, and the hostess that -he- was gonna drive us home. It was cute.
But, as we got the car, it became clear we were going to have a small problem on our hands. Erich realized as we opened the back door and stuffed him into the car seat, his dreams of driving were going to remain shattered for at least another 13 years.
He didn’t make a fuss, but it was pretty clear, “You said I was going to drive, and I can’t do -that- from back here.”
I looked at Connie. Connie looked at me. And a big grin spread across our faces. I looked at Connie and said, “you okay with this?” She smiled. “Sure, why not.” …our dad had instilled in us the importance and difficultly by doing the same. I turned back to face the car seat, “Erich, I promise, you’ll drive us home. No kidding.”
He was certain there was a trick, “really?” Connie and I both affirmed.
I drove us home that night, but stopped at the top of our court, making sure there was no traffic anywhere, no kids playing, nothing. Connie instructed Erich to come up front, and as he eagerly climbed out of his baby seat, Madison started to have doubts surface. “Are you really going to let -him- drive?”
“Yes we are.”
By this time, Erich was in my lap. “Can you reach the pedals Erich?”
“No…”
“Okay, then I’ll do them for you. You tell me when to stop or go so we don’t hit anything; meanwhile, you steer.”
Eric grabbed both hands on the wheel and said “GO!”
And, at a creeping 2 miles per hour, down the dead center of the road, with my hands gently letting the steering wheel pass through them down at the bottom out of site, we crept every so slowly from our stopping point.
Madison in the back was holding on tight, “I really don’t think this is such a good idea, Mom.”
Now here’s the part that was amazing. The kid -could- drive. I didn’t have to correct for -anything- he did with the steering wheel. He kept us centered in the road, gently rounding the curve, and then did a perfect hand of hand, putting us into our driveway in the exact place we had left the car, and declared “STOP!” right at the same moment I was going to anyway.
Connie and I were down right impressed. Erich had absolutely no doubt he could pull it off, and he was thrilled beyond belief at having the actual opportunity to drive a car.
Now Madison wanted to try. Opps. Hadn’t thought about that.
So, with Connie’s permission, I drove us back up to the top of the hill to the same point, and we did the same steps. Only Madison pointed the car, at a parked on. My grip on the steering wheel was far more serious than when Erich was driving.
Erich started instructing her, “Turn left, you’re gonna hit it.” Madison did so, and over corrected, aiming at another car. “Too much,” Erich instructed her again. Madison turned back a little, and, like before we crept into the drive way.
What was interesting was that Madison let the car roll into the center, where Erich had actually chosen a parking spot and placed the car there. This kid is going to be a natural.
Which, I suppose is good news, because when he gets his learners, I’m sending him to the store to get me a cracker.