"Mom, They Trashed Our Car": A Late-Night Call From Our Teens

Hi, friends. You can't plan anything with kids. That seems to go for the little ones and the big ones, as we got to find out again last weekend. Sometimes the phone rings out of nowhere, and the next thing you know, you're hearing "110, police." (That's Germany's 911.)

Our oldest was in finals week at the end of her semester and had been cramming nonstop. So we thought we'd visit her in her college town in the evening and take her out to dinner. The twins wanted to come at first, then they made other plans, and the extra kid staying with us was at a friend's house.

A Visit to Our Oldest's College Town

So the three of us had a great evening. We started with Indian food, then let ourselves drift through town, along the river and through the party district, where even on a January weeknight so many people were out that it felt like summer all over again. It was a bit like a mini vacation.

On the way home, our oldest texted that she'd loved the fingers-crossed postcard we sent for her exams next week, and we were kind of glowing. It's such an intense feeling, visiting your own kid in a different city and having her show you around like you're the guests.

We picked up the extra kid, gave a quick rundown of our day, and fell into bed, pretty tired, around eleven. I texted the boys that we were home and going to sleep, and "I'm leaving my phone on in case anything happens." Right after that, I felt the urge to send one more "love you." So I did. Almost like I already had a funny feeling.

The Boys' Late-Night Call

I was in a deep sleep when I heard my phone vibrating in the nightstand drawer. I woke up, fumbled for it in the dark, and saw our youngest's name on the screen. My heart literally dropped into my pajama pants. How many times had I written that I'd leave my phone on in case anything happened? But never once had either of them taken me up on it.

I swiped to answer. "Mom..." He sounded pretty dejected, and I was wide awake, thinking only: Please, please, no accident, please let your bro be okay. Then: "Mom, they wrecked our little car, I'm so unbelievably angry."

Such a huge weight lifted off my chest that I'm pretty sure they heard it in the next podunk town. Property damage. Nobody hurt. It was all going to be okay. The speaker had been stolen, and the whole inside of the microcar (one of those tiny cars German teens can drive before they get a regular license) had been sprayed with de-icer: every window, the seats, the steering wheel. A notebook had also been torn up and scattered around, along with a bunch of moss and sticks.

110, Police! Report Filed

They had parked the car near the train station so they could take the train to the next town. When they came back, this is what they found. "I'm so tired, who does this?" my son asked, and I said, "First thing, you call the police." The next morning at breakfast, he showed me the 110 in his call log.

The officers arrived super fast and were incredibly nice. I quickly dug up a photo of the vehicle registration and sent it over on WhatsApp. While one of our boys took care of everything on site and filed the report, the other kept us posted by text (sometimes quite humorously, which took some of the weight off). My pulse. My adrenaline level.

Of course I couldn't fall back asleep. I waited until I heard the front door click shut and knew they were home again. The little car has since been put back in shape and cleaned up. The boys, and we as parents, have one more life lesson under our belts.

Thankfully, nothing was broken. Thankfully, nobody got hurt. Cars can be cleaned.

Annoying: yes. But not life-threatening.

Still, I wouldn't mind if next weekend were a little calmer...