“Hey, Mom. So the kids decided not to go to school today.”

“Honey, do you have to do that now?” Jen asks.

“What? It’s my mom.”

“You’re driving.”

“Mom? Sorry. No, that was Jen. Yes, I’ll tell her.”

I mouth Mom says hi.

“Hi, Mom,” Jen says, loudly enough to make the phone unnecessary.

“Dad,” my daughter says from the back seat, “why do you tell Grandma everything?”

“I don’t tell her everything.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Seat belt.”

“I’m putting it on.”

“Jen, can you make sure they’re buckled?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to talk on the phone while driving,” my other daughter says.

“It’s not California.”

“Babe,” Jen says, “why don’t you switch to hands-free?”

“Because I like the feel of the phone against my ear. Besides, I don’t always want everyone hearing my conversations.”

“So you can tell Grandma everything about us,” my daughter says, “but we can’t hear what you tell her?”

“You can hear me. I’m right here.”

“Mom, hang on a second.”

Jen grips the door handle. “Babe, it’s rush hour. You’re going to get in an accident.”

“It’s fine. Would everybody please relax?”

The car ahead stops.

Jen screams. The kids scream. Mom screams through the phone, although she has no idea why.

CRUNCH.

For one perfect second, nobody says anything.

Then Mom asks, “Did you get in an accident?”

Jen turns slowly toward me.

I lower the phone.

“Don’t tell her,” I say.