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Giving My Kids Trust Issues
My wife and I when we were dating – 30 years ago, at a college formal.
My wife and I are about the same height. I’m 6’2”, and she’s 6’1”. I didn’t know it at the time, but when we got married, she swore to herself that she would never weigh more than me. Well, when she was late in pregnancy with our first child, it started getting a little close, apparently. Again, this is all unbeknownst to me. Anyway, she started buying my favorite ice cream, making sausage gravy and biscuits without me even asking, and at supper time cheerfully suggesting, “Why don’t you have pizza and beer for supper! I think there’s a game on! Why not?” Being male, I didn’t really give all this a lot of deep thought, except to think, “Golly, this is swell!”
She didn’t admit her nefarious motivations until years later. I’d like to say I was shocked, but that’s not true. She would probably say that she’d never do it again, but that’s not true, either. But it’s ok. No harm done. We got three wonderful daughters, my wife is pleased that she’s never weighed more than me, and I was extremely well fed for a while. Everyone’s happy. Now that I’m getting old and fat, she’s feeding me more salads and fish and *gasp* hummus. I’m less happy now. I miss her pregnancies.
I can’t even act too indignant. I’m not above this sort of thing myself. I’m embarrassed to admit the following, but it’s true. Don’t tell anybody.
I drive a nice car. It’s a one-year-old loaded Cadillac CT6 with the twin turbo motor. Man, is it fast. You touch the gas, and it takes off like a jet. Which is really hard to resist. It’s a blast to drive.
Anyway, the dealership picked it up for a routine oil change etc, and when the delivery guy dropped it back off with me he said, “We need the car back next week. The guys in the shop say it needs some transmission work.”
I said, “Ok, sure, but geez, it’s only a year old. Why does it already need transmission work?”
The guy asked, “Do you have kids?”
“Um, sure – three teenage daughters.”
He asked, “Do you let your kids drive the car?”
I said, “Well, um, sure. Sometimes, I guess…”
The guy looked at me knowingly and said, “The guys in the shop said it looked like somebody had been hot-rodding in that thing a bit.”
Me: *long pause* “Oh, right. The dang kids. Yeah, ok, I’ll talk to them.”
Delivery guy: “Don’t worry sir. Happens all the time. That thing’s really fast. Sometimes kids aren’t mature enough to drive it properly.” *knowing look*
Me: “Right. I’ll talk to them. Thanks.”
So when they picked up my car the next week, my kids asked what was wrong with my car, and I relayed this cute little story. They were pissed. “YOU BLAMED THAT ON US? THAT’S CRAP! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO DRIVES LIKE AN IDIOT!!!”
I considered attempting to deflect blame by pointing out that their mother was capable of even sneakier behavior than that. But I thought better of it. I am, after all, a mature adult.
My daughters know that I love them unequivocally. And they that they can trust me, well, equivocally. I’m just doing my best to prepare them for marriage. They’ll thank me later, I’m sure.
When they get pregnant, I’ll warn their husbands. You just can’t trust women…
Published in General
Too funny! You bad, bad, father! Shame, shame!
Great post!
Why did I think of Joe Biden when I saw the picture? You aren’t running for office, are you?
Yeah, I see how this works. I’m a bad father. But my devious wife gets a pass from the biased jury.
Hmph.
Embrace the hummus. Vroom!!!
Another good one, Doc!
From what I understand, modern computer-controlled transmissions are programmed to “learn” from how they are used. Inconsistent usage supposedly “confuses” the transmission. So maybe the transmission needed work because it was confused because you aren’t consistent enough in your hot-rodding.
When I was in high school (early 1970’s) various band parents would drop us off at home after our Friday or Saturday night post-football game ice cream outings. Everybody I knew had family rules that only parents could drive (no groups of kids in cars driven by kids). When the parents of one of my friends disciplined my friend because the person who dropped him off “burned rubber” after the drop-off, my friend (correctly) said that it was a parent who dropped him off and did the rubber burning (and he was driving a Cadillac, too!).
Oh, believe me, I’m consistent…
I think you should warn your daughter’s husbands before pregnancy. Such deviousness probably includes great creativity, so it could manifest itself in various non-pregnancy related ways. :-)
I grew up with a father who owned a small chain of auto parts stores. One of the things he always pounded into my skull – never, ever, EVER take your car to the dealership. And if you do take it to the dealership for something like an oil change, never, ever, EVER believe all the other crap they’re telling you that your car needs.
Hate to suggest it, but my BS meter would’ve been screaming if the dealership clowns told me the tranny needed work.
I never take my car to the dealership. But it’s under warranty for 3 years. So they come get it, do whatever needs done, and bring it back to me. And everything is free.
Last year was the first time that anyone other than me had changed my oil. Fancy cars have nice service deals, apparently.
Hey, Dad, can I borrow the car?
Yes they do. “Free” service is to encourage people to get the cars serviced and thereby preserve resale value. This is more important for “fancy” cars than for mass market cars since a relatively high proportion of fancy cars are leased, and the manufacturer (or a finance company related to the manufacturer) is on the hook for the anticipated resale value at lease end.
It was probably the guy from the dealership that screwed up the transmission.
Yeah! Not my fault!
Just so I’m not viewed as a hit and run artist, the site appears to be broken. Every time I try to like a post I get sent into oblivion.
I believe it has been reported in Bug Reports, but Max might benefit from knowing your machine/browser/OS details.
That’s my excuse: I never lost the weight from my pregnancies.
Been driving since 1975, Until last year the driveway only had manual transmission cars in it. Been fixing all of my cars since before I could drive. Still do, but the one thing I failed at fixing in the last 40 or so years was the Automatic Transmission. Rebuild an engine, done many, manual gearbox, tricky but understandable, rear end repairs, child’s play, but an automatic coupled with a software black box filled with proprietary notions of how to behave.
No thanks.
Seems a little fishy to me. Perhaps there was a manufacturing error or something with the transmission. If Cadillac gave the car a 400 hp engine, it damn well is meant to be “hot-rodded.”
Mine was the first model year. I complained that it shifted in a jerky manner. It was smoother when I drove more conservatively, but I don’t generally drive like that.
After they worked on it, it really was smoother. The guy said they “reprogrammed” the transmission. So it apparently was more of a software upgrade. So I probably couldn’t have fixed it with a Crescent wrench, Vice-Grips, & baling wire.
Moral of the story: Don’t buy the first model year of a car.
That is very plausible. It was just funny that they tried to attribute the problem to the car being driven in a “spirited” manner, when that is what that car was designed for. It’s like being asked, “Hey, you didn’t use that ice cream maker to make ice cream, did you?”
Yeah, I don’t get it. How could they tell how I drive it? Maybe the computer records that as well? No idea.
Lessons learned: Never tell your kids you used them as an excuse for anything.
Randy :”If Cadillac gave the car a 400 hp engine, it damn well is meant to be “hot-rodded.”
Absolutely! I am sure you also really didn’t “hot-rod” the car or street race it every Friday night like the guys in Fast N Furious- you just went fast here and there. But even then in a year, it should have held up. No need to blame the kids – blame the car.
Btw, I was horrified by your wife’s deceit.
I’ve been suspecting for years that my wife is trying to kill me with kindness. But that’s another story.
We’re listening . . .
Another time. Part of it involves things she brings home from the grocery store that a fat man has no business eating, but she doesn’t want me to go hungry. Or something.
It’s a trick!!! She’s pregnant!
Congratulations!