10 Minutes Can Be Worth an Eternity, or Why I Always Arrive Late at Work
“Buddy,” I said to my 9-year-old son, “I’m late for work…”
Glancing at the rearview mirror, I saw a tiny smile beginning to grace his face. He knew what was coming.
“I can’t stop the car, but you know the drill, right?”
He adjusted his position on his seat.
“I’ll just slow down, and you’ll jump, okay?” He chuckled, and immediately turned his face towards the window, avoiding the eye contact that would surely make him laugh harder.
“Remember,” I told him, “dive with your right shoulder to the front, and roll your body as soon as you hit the ground.” His face was adorned by a radiant smile, lightened up by the morning sunlight. Only his eyes remained veiled in shadow, sheltered beneath the brim of his trusty Pokemon cap.
“Get ready!”
He grabbed his bag and assumed the jumping position, left hand hovering over the seatbelt buckle, poised to release it.
“NOOOW!!”
I ended my theatrical scream at the same time I parked the car.
