Tetris and Tire Prints: Lessons from Little Adventures

 

Big Effort by a Mini Maverick

“I did it. ALL by myself!” Bud's face beamed with pride as his chest swelled. Pausing mid-braid in Little Bell’s hair, I glanced up, slightly puzzled.

Not wanting to diminish his moment, I hesitated before asking, “That’s great, Bud! Umm… what did you do all by yourself?”

“I loaded my bike in your car—all the way!”

“Oh…” I started to understand.

During breakfast, I asked him to move his bike and helmet from the garage and set them beside the car for our morning adventure. Since his bike is too small for the car rack, it has to ride in the front seat of my compact Honda Civic. Fitting everything in—lunches, water bottles, backpacks, and the bike—becomes a high-stakes game of Tetris, involving muddy tires, greasy chains, and cloth seats.

After months of practice, I finally figured out the perfect way to fit everything without causing damage while still managing to squeeze into the driver’s seat—just barely. Given the complexity of the setup, I figured Mini Maverick’s well-intentioned attempt probably didn’t achieve what we needed to hit the road.

“Thank you for trying to help, but I only needed you to put the bike next to the car. Grab your shoes, and we’ll look together when I'm done helping Sis.”

Soon after, we rushed out the door to avoid being late for storytime at the library. As the kids buckled in, I checked the front seat and found the bike jammed head-first toward the floorboard, with the handlebars obstructing the car’s shifter. Despite my best efforts to adjust it, the bike wouldn’t budge.

“Good grief, Bud! How on Earth did you get this thing in here?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Maverick said with a shrug, “I just put it in.”

“Well…" I panted, "Ugh! It’s not coming out.” For several minutes, I pulled with all my strength, but the bike remained firmly planted, rendering the car undrivable.

“Bubby, no!” Little Bell chastised from the backseat. “Why couldn’t you just follow directions?! Miss Shannon asked you to put the bike NEXT TO the car, and you didn’t listen! Now, we’re late for storytime, and it’s all your fault!” Despite my frustration, I kept quiet. Her scolding amply made the point. Yet, the more I thought, the more compassion I felt for my mini Maverick and his sincere attempt to help.

A Lesson In Compassion

Thinking I might need to call Wes for backup, I carefully studied the bike’s position in a last-ditch effort to free it. “Ah-ha!” When Bud shoved his bike into place, he accidentally shifted the kickstand downward, causing it to wedge between- everything. After what felt like an eternity, I finally pulled the troublesome bike from the car, flipped it around, and carefully set it in place.

Covered in sweat and grease, I wiped my brow and exclaimed, “Gracious day! That was NOT easy!”

“Um… Miss Shannon…” Maverick tentatively pointed to a large black tire print on the ceiling. “Am I in big trouble?”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “No, Bud. I’m not thrilled about the mess, but I’m proud of you for trying to help. Just let me handle it next time, okay?”

A shy smile spread across his face as he nodded. “Deal!”

Fit to Throw Stones?

When I was about Bud’s age, my friend and I explored the church attic during a snowstorm. We found a ladder leading to a trap door in the ceiling and, driven by curiosity, decided to see what was on the other side. We pushed against the wooden hatch until we heard a loud CRACK, and icy air rushed through the gap... high on the roof.

We soon realized we weren’t exactly Lewis and Clark, and the church rafters weren’t the best place for an adventure. Our little escapade meant my dad had to spend the afternoon repairing the roof to prevent water damage from melting ice. Bud isn’t the only one whose grand adventures don’t always go as planned! 

Considering this, I’m reminded of Jesus’s teaching to address my faults before pointing out others’ (Matthew 7:3-5). When I take the time to consider my own imperfections, I’m far more likely to show compassion. My frustration with the bike, grease, and being late melted away when I thought about the helpful and inventive young man I care for. His intentions were genuine. Now, I’ve grown to love the tire print on my car’s ceiling, recognizing it as a lesson learned—not just for the kids, but me as well.