So Andy got his Learner’s Permit this past week. We have heard friends lament about their children getting behind the wheels of their cars, but it never occurred to us just what a big milestone ( or a stronger argument for OTC Xanax) this really is until we found ourselves calling shotgun next to the person who refers to us as Mom and Dad.
The first driving lesson was a family event complete with video footage thanks to a bored younger sister. Steve, who I might add did a brief stint as a driver’s ed teacher, took Andy for a spin around the church parking lot. I was buckled in the backseat, resigned to keep my mouth shut. HA! That didn’t exactly work for me. Andy couldn’t even put the car into gear before I started baptizing him with driver’s wisdom. Suddenly I felt compelled to warn him of every real or imagined threat he might ever encounter on the roads of America. I also felt the need to confess every driving sin I have ever committed. (I blame that part on the setting though.) And for some absurd reason, I felt the need to parrot Steve’s instructions with the addition of the word “Gentle” tacked on to every directive.
Steve: Andy, take a right turn up ahead.
Me: Andy, take a GENTLE right turn up ahead!
Steve: Stop to the left of the light pole.
Me: Make a GENTLE stop to the left of the light pole!
He did a great job and managed to take four laps around the parking lot without any insurance claims being made. Nobody jumped from the car to kiss the solid ground beneath them and everyone was still speaking to each other.
The second driving lesson went even better. After watching Amelia’s film footage of the first lesson, I decided to mend my ways and just zip my lips and let Andy drive. And you know what? He did just fine.
The first driving lesson was a family event complete with video footage thanks to a bored younger sister. Steve, who I might add did a brief stint as a driver’s ed teacher, took Andy for a spin around the church parking lot. I was buckled in the backseat, resigned to keep my mouth shut. HA! That didn’t exactly work for me. Andy couldn’t even put the car into gear before I started baptizing him with driver’s wisdom. Suddenly I felt compelled to warn him of every real or imagined threat he might ever encounter on the roads of America. I also felt the need to confess every driving sin I have ever committed. (I blame that part on the setting though.) And for some absurd reason, I felt the need to parrot Steve’s instructions with the addition of the word “Gentle” tacked on to every directive.
Steve: Andy, take a right turn up ahead.
Me: Andy, take a GENTLE right turn up ahead!
Steve: Stop to the left of the light pole.
Me: Make a GENTLE stop to the left of the light pole!
He did a great job and managed to take four laps around the parking lot without any insurance claims being made. Nobody jumped from the car to kiss the solid ground beneath them and everyone was still speaking to each other.
The second driving lesson went even better. After watching Amelia’s film footage of the first lesson, I decided to mend my ways and just zip my lips and let Andy drive. And you know what? He did just fine.
Katie,
ReplyDeleteYou just make me laugh! You're a great writer and I feel like I was right there in the back seat, squeezed in between you and Amelia! (but kinda glad I actually got to sit here in my computer chair and "read" about the experience instead!) I'll let you and Steve enjoy the pleasures of this stage of parenting all on your own! It truly IS a milestone for Andy and for you all as well...because once a kid gets his license, childhood finds itself left behind sitting on the curb. . .and there you are, seated beside it, brushing a bittersweet tear off your cheek as you say good-bye to it, and wonder where it went. So, so fast...Now, here you are--watching him drive off into the great unknown world of exciting possibilities.