The In-The-Car Rule: How I Taught My Kid What Not to Say in Public

When my son Nick was little, he struggled with communication. Mostly because he didn’t speak at all until he was 4½ years old.

And then? He did not stop. He talked constantly, and I mean constantly. From silence to a nonstop monologue—like someone put in a quarter and he got stuck in the “on” position.

I swear he was making up for lost time!

Not only did he talk constantly, he talked fast. Really, really fast. Like he only had 10 seconds to say everything he ever wanted to say.

It could be quite overwhelming—and when he talked like that, it was nearly impossible to think straight. That’s probably why I often told the kids my ears were tired and needed a break.

The tricky part wasn’t just the flood of words—it was what came out. Nick didn’t seem to grasp what was okay to say out loud and what… well, wasn’t. I know most kids struggle with this, but Nick didn’t have an internal filter. I don’t think he even knew what a filter was.

So, we had a lot of inappropriate comments. A lot of awkward moments. More than a few red-faced apologies. Until I finally came up with what I thought was a foolproof solution.
(Spoiler alert: It was not foolproof. Especially not in drive-thrus. But we’ll get there.)

The worst of these incidents happened when Nick was about five. It was certainly a moment I’ll never forget.

We were in Dick’s Sporting Goods, probably picking up soccer gear for his sister Mae. Nick was sitting in the carriage when an adult little person walked by.

And Nick—at full volume—asked:
Why is that daddy SO short?

I froze. Horrified. (Is there a word for something worse than horrified? Aghast? Mortified? I don’t know, but if there is, that’s what I was.)

I shushed him and made a beeline for the checkout, hoping to escape with our purchases and a shred of dignity.

But of course—because the universe has a sense of humor—the man walked by again. And, man, did he look mad!

And Nick—now at an even higher volume—yelled:
WHY IS THAT DADDY SO SHORT?!

Let me explain something: Nick had two volumes—loud and louder.
This wasn’t your average kid-in-a-quiet-store loud.
This was I-have-autism-and-can’t-modulate-my-voice loud.
Added to the I-asked-a-question-and-you-didn’t-answer-so-you-must-not-have-heard-me loud.

It was a full-volume horror show.

I looked for a hole to crawl into. When that failed, I did the only reasonable thing. I yanked Nick out of the carriage, tucked him under my arm like a football, and RAN for the exit.

In the car, I told Nick that we never know what might upset or hurt another person’s feelings, so we need to be careful about what we say when we’re in public or around other people.

That’s when I came up with a new rule:
He could ask or tell me anything he wanted—as long as we were in the car.

I figured most of his questions came from being around people in public, so this would be perfect.

And it worked beautifully…for a few weeks.

We’d go into a store and Nick would say, “Mom, I need to ask you a question in the car,” or “I need to tell you something when we get into the car.”

If he started to tell me something that sounded a little dodgy, I’d ask, “Is this an in-the-car conversation?”

If it was, I’d remind him of the rule—and all was well.

Then we’d get to the car, and he’d ask his question or share his observation.

After a few weeks of this, I was pretty proud of myself. I had found a solution to an embarrassing problem—and one that helped Nick learn from it. When he shared his “in the car” thoughts, I could explain whether they were appropriate or not. And why.

Brilliant, right?
It was.
Until that one time in the drive-thru…

We were in the McDonald’s drive-thru waiting for our food. When we got to the pick-up window, Nick started:
Mom? Mom? MOM?!

I told him to wait one minute.

And he replied, “I have to tell you something, and we’re in the car, and I can’t tell you because…”

That’s when it hit me. The flaw in my brilliant rule.

Technically, he was in the car—so he was allowed to say anything.
But we were also face-to-face with the woman at the pick-up window.

We got our food as fast as humanly possible and started to drive away.

Then, in one big breathless sentence, Nick blurted out:
Mom, was that woman a witch? She had a wart on her hand and who has warts? Witches!

A huge sigh of relief followed his outburst.

At the age of five, Nick couldn’t break a rule, which is why the rule worked so well…um, most of the time.

Although he’s now capable of breaking rules, the “In-The-Car” Rule still stands. Nick will still say to me, “Mom, I have to tell you something in the car.”

It makes me proud every time—not only because I probably saved countless people embarrassment and/or hurt feelings, but also because it helped me teach Nick an important lesson in a way that worked for him. It also saved me many, many, many awkward situations.

Now, we joke that one day, when Nick has moved out, he’ll call. And in a rush of words, he’ll say:
Mom, I’m in the car and I have to tell you…

The thought of it makes me laugh—and honestly, I look forward to those days.

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