A cousin said, “My wife threw a shoe at me after our second child, and I probably deserved it.”
Another uncle shook his head. “Son, when a woman is growing your child, you bring her food. You don’t put a lock on the refrigerator like you’re dealing with raccoons.”
Even I had to laugh at that.
Then Linda pointed at me. “Apologize.”
Brandon looked at her. She raised an eyebrow.
“When a woman is growing your child, you bring her food.”
He turned toward me. “Emily, I’m sorry.”
“Try harder,” Linda said.
He swallowed. “I’m sorry. I was rough. I didn’t think about what you had to go through.”
“Prove that you’re sorry,” Linda demanded.
Brandon marched into the kitchen, came back with the refrigerator lock in his hand, and threw it into his mother’s lap.
“Good!” she said. “We are done with that.”
Then Linda marched back to Brandon’s car, peeled off the huge BABY DRIVER magnets one by one, had his father remove the steering wheel lock, and disconnected the breathalyzer ignition device while the other men laughed at Brandon the entire time.
“Prove that you’re sorry.”