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Traffic Light

She is now nineteen and away at college. I am proud of her. I am still working on making her proud of me.

As I rushed to an appointment, I raced my car though a very yellow light just on the cusp of turning red. I thought for sure I had made it. The lights of the police car behind me told me I was wrong. I nervously told my six-year-old daughter in the back seat that everything was okay. She didn't seem concerned. As the officer approached my window he asked, "Do you know why I stopped you?" Before I could even begin to make an excuse, I heard the squeeky sound of the back window opening. Turning, I saw my daughter thrust her hand out the window as if raising her hand in class. Then she said, "I know why you stopped her, sir. She went right through that red light." The officer could barely contain his laughter as he leaned against my car and peered into the back window at my darling big-mouthed daughter. She proceeded to tell him that he shouldn't worry, because she would tell her Dad as soon as we get home. The officer handed back my license and told me he wasn't going to give me a ticket as he hoped my daughter's wisidom was lesson enough. Laughing the whole way back to his car, he slide back out into traffic, leaving me alone with my judge and jury. "You should know better Mom," my daughter said, shaking her head with disappointment her little fingers pressing the button to roll the window back up. I knew three things instantly. My daughter was growing up fast while I raced about not realizing it. It is just as important for our children to be proud of us as it is for us to be proud of them. And the next time I am in a rush, I need to leave her home. My daughter is now nineteen and away at college. I am proud of her. I am still working on making her proud of me.

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