From the window, Nick grinned. “I put the snowman where cars aren’t supposed to go. I knew he’d hit it.”
Mr. Streeter slipped, yelled, and pounded on the door. I stayed calm. “You only hit it because you drove on our grass. This is your consequence.”
By the time city crews arrived, Mr. Streeter never touched our lawn again. No apology. Just careful turns into his driveway, tires finally where they belonged.
Nick kept building snowmen all winter—some leaning, some melting, but none destroyed by a bumper again. Every time I see that corner of the yard, I think about my eight-year-old, a pile of snow, a red scarf, and the clearest lesson in standing your ground I’ve ever seen.
If this story made you smile, share it with someone who needs a reminder that creativity and courage come in all sizes.