Direct quote from my message on Sunday:
“Your right, I don’t check up on Cooper like you because he’s a boy. I mean, he could get in a wreck and who really cares? You? You’re my daughter and that’s way different.”
Said in jest…sort of. I mean, I love Cooper. He’s by far my favorite son. But sons are different than daughters. And don’t let anyone tell you differently. Doesn’t mean I love him less – just differently.
So almost exactly 24 hours after I made that statement, I get a phone call from my favorite son.
Never how you want to hear a phone conversation start off.
And there really isn’t that much damage to the car.
And the other thing you don’t want to hear on the phone.
I had let Coop drive my new-to-me Altima to school that day. Graduation practice was the only thing on the agenda and he likes driving my car as opposed to the Xterra.
And he wrecks it.
I took a deep breath. I’m glad he’s okay. I really am. But I’m also really ticked that my new-to-me car is now in a wreck. And I’m ticked that I’m ticked about the car when in reality this whole situation could be a lot worse than what it is.
So I drive to the scene of the accident. Turns out, Coop wasn’t even driving. He was parked and got run into by a car that had been hit by another car. The other two cars in the accident? Well…they didn’t drive away from the scene. Glass, busted tires, airbags deployed, shattered windows – it looked bad.
Our car? A minor dent and scratch on back bumper.
And nobody was hurt.
Once we got home, Amy mentioned to me – “you know, in one sense, all of this is your fault.”
I was reminded of something else I said on Sunday…
“Ever get into an argument that you know you can’t win?”