I got pulled over today with my daughter in the backseat, and I thought I was completely cooked.
Before I could even figure out what to say, my third-grader suddenly grabbed a container of soup and dumped the entire thing all over the floor.
Then she leaned toward me and whispered,
“Tell the cop I threw up.”
I barely had time to process what was happening when the officer walked up to the car.
He looked inside.
He smelled the soup.
Then he immediately took three steps backward like he had just entered a biohazard zone.
“Everything okay back here?”
I nodded seriously.
“She’s not feeling well.”
The officer handed me a warning.
“Hope she feels better.”
My daughter sat there completely stone-faced.
Not a smile.
Not a giggle.
Nothing.
She looked like a tiny criminal mastermind who had just pulled off the perfect escape.
As soon as we drove away, I looked at her.
She looked at me.
“Seriously?”
She shrugged.
So yes… I’m taking her out for ice cream.
She earned it.
And apparently, I’m raising a tiny lawyer with a soup-based defense strategy.
