While Cleaning the Car, My Five-Year-Old Son Suddenly Asked, “Why Don’t We Just Drive Daddy’s Secret Car?”

Our car was a wreck—muddy boots, crushed snacks, and construction dust coated every surface. With my husband Robert catching a ride to work, I finally had a chance to tackle the mess. My 5-year-old son Tom joined in, sponge in hand, proudly helping me scrub away the chaos. We were peeling melted crayons off a seatbelt when he suddenly flopped down, sighed like a worn-out mechanic, and said, “Mom… why don’t we just use Daddy’s secret car?”I asked what he meant, and that’s when he looked at me and said…

I’ll be the first to admit it: our car is an absolute disaster.

Between my husband Robert’s construction gear, his muddy boots, and our 5-year-old son Tom’s trail of juice boxes, cookie crumbs, and stray stickers, our car looks like it’s been through a tornado. Inside. Twice.

I still drive it every day—preschool drop-offs, grocery hauls, visits to my mom who’s been in and out of the hospital. I tell myself I’ll clean it “this weekend,” but that weekend never seems to come.

Until this morning.