Me (sobbing): “Please, please don’t make me today. It’s snowing. Please, Daddy!”

Him: “Get your ASS in the car. All you do is bitch about how no one will teach you to drive. So, I’m going to teach you to drive. GET IN THE CAR!”

Me: “Please, no, I promise I’ll never ask again, just don’t make me drive today.”

Him: “Get in the fucking car and stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about!”

So, by now the neighbors are watching. I back out of the driveway. It’s a stick shift, and it’s a blizzard, and when I stall the car, he backhands me and tells me to do it right this time.

I do.

I will never need another lesson, so it works, I guess.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.