HUMOR

My Daughter Was Charmed By a Race Car Driver

Somehow, I ended up with the bill

Photo by Rod Long on Unsplash

“Is that Max?” My three-year-old daughter asked from the backseat of the car.

I glanced in the rearview mirror to see her pointing to the right. A black Jeep sped past us in the next lane.

“No, not Max,” I said as I turned off the main road and entered the shopping complex.

“It was,” she mumbled into her chest.

I sighed and chose silence over another long-winded explanation of why every person driving over 50 mph was not Max Verstappen.

My dad is a passionate spectator of Formula 1. Sometime ago, I got into the habit of visiting my parents’ house on a Sunday afternoon at race time. While I do have a mild interest in the sport, I found that if I pretended to be consumed with the racing, my mum would do jigsaw puzzles with my daughter while I lay on the sofa. Occasionally, shouting, “That was close,” was the cherry on top of my performance.

Gradually, my daughter became more interested in the racing than the jigsaws and started asking a lot of annoying questions.

Now, she sits on my dad’s lap to watch the race. She recognizes several of the drivers, she understands that Grandad will mute the TV whenever…