Yesterday we went to do our regular grocery shopping and on our way back home I decided to stop for gas. My little one asked if he could help me. I thought for a moment and decided it was an important thing for him to know so I said he could.
I tried to explain how to do it – how to hold the nozzle and everything, but I didn’t realize it was too heavy for him. He pointed it directly at me and gasoline went dripping onto my new shoes. (Anyone who knows me, knows I love to keep my shoes very clean.)
My little boy’s eyes looked scared in that moment and I remembered how my parents used to beat me with a belt for the smallest mistakes.
I told my son it was okay, even though I had to drive home like this: