I know we’re not actually allowed to drive her car, though, so we’re keeping the garage door closed. My little brother and I are sitting in the driver and passenger seats, pretending we’re on a road trip to the beach. We’re laughing and making silly noises as we press imaginary buttons on the dashboard, pretending we’re changing the radio station. Suddenly, we both freeze. We hear the sound of footsteps approaching the garage door, and we know it’s Mommy. We quickly turn off the car and sit quietly, hoping she won’t come inside. But then we hear the door handle turn and our hearts start racing. We know we’re in trouble.