The Wise One

The other day, as Younger and I were driving home after a visit with his grandparents, at most a fifteen minute trip, he asked, “Can I turn the heat down?”

“Oh, yeah,” I told him. “I was getting hot, too, but I thought I could wait it out.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see him turn sightly towards me, his head at an inquisitive tilt. “Mom, the knob is right there.” He pointed towards the dash. “You can reach it. No problem.”

“Yeah. I know.” I shrugged. “I just thought we were almost home, and I could wait it out.”

He shook his head, settling back in his seat. “Usually, Mom, you are wise and like the exact opposite of stubborn. But then sometimes . . .”

Well, huh, I’m wise.

As a mom of a teenager, I take that as a real proper compliment.

And I’ll just overlook that whole “usually” part . . .

Because, you know, I’m wise that way.

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