Yesterday afternoon mom started talking about driving the 1979 flatbed truck.
Me: “It Doesn’t run.”
Mom: “Well, just like all cars, it needs a little tuning up.”
Me: “(Stopping myself from explaining it’s far, far more profound than a tune up) Mom, those mailboxes could have been children, you’re lucky you didn’t take out a family of five going down that embankment! You could have killed someone! There will be NO MORE DRIVING!”
She self-redirected back to the newspaper… no push back, arguing, anything. Not another word! How unlike her.