Having been taught manners at an early age, I fully intended to pass on this honorable tradition to my own children. I became extremely judgemental of parents who did not demand proper behavior of their offspring, especially in public places.
Living in Jacksonville, North Carolina while the head of our household was deployed overseas, I found it necessary to purchase a new car battery from a nearby garage. A few days following the purchase, on a shopping trip with my children, I bought some ice cream for our evening dessert. After returning to our car and discovering the battery was again dead, we were hauled to the garage.
The owner assured me that the battery would be fine once they charged it which would take a while. No worries. Our ice cream would melt and I was concerned that with active children who on occasion had to visit the U.S. Naval Hospital on Camp LeJeuene for medical problems or stitches, going outside to find a dead car battery in an emergency was not my idea of a picnic. I insisted on a brand new battery and once again was assured a charge was all it needed.
So there we sat inside the garage bay. And then I reasoned how I would win this battle.
“Children, you may get out of the car.”
Four heads jerked up in unison. I still recall hearing my daughter’s small voice ask, “You mean we can get out of the car, Mama?”
I stared straight ahead as the doors flew open and I saw Duion’s feet carrying him straight for the many-drawered toolbox storage tower.
We had a brand-new battery installed in five minutes and enjoyed our ice cream treat that night.