Teaching My Little Miracle Baby About Parking

For me, one of the best things about being a parent is the look on my child’s face as he’s learning something new.  It’s beautiful.  He kind of bugs out his eyes and flares his nostrils and sticks out his tongue and does this half scream-half bark that will just melt your heart.

So I take every opportunity I can to teach my little miracle baby something.

The other day, I was teaching him about parking etiquette.  I told him the story of how I tried to find a parking spot in the Old Town area of San Diego in June.  There was some sort of rockabilly/tattoo/cars from the Cold War festival on, so there were no open spots.  There were, however, lots of cars parked so that there were plenty of half spaces between them.  If the cars had been parked under the assumption that there are other people on this planet, there might have been an extra two spots.

“Two spots?!” my baby cried.  “&#!#!!!”

I went on to explain how I had to improvise, parking my rented car at the end of just such a stretch of rudely parked cars, but there wasn’t enough space for the whole thing and the bumper ended up sticking into the red zone like so:

“Hold on, hold on,” my little miracle baby interrupted.  “So you’re telling me that because of those #!$@s, you risked getting a ticket for parking in the red zone?  Man, people are a-holes.”

And I had to laugh.  Because sometimes, even though you set out to teach your child something, he ends up teaching you.

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