Here’s a short list of the few things in life that scare the crap out of me:
- my 15-year-old son taking Driver’s Ed
- flying spiders
Alas, the time has come. Next week, The Boy Who Can’t Be Named Because He’d Die of Embarrassment, will be driving a 4000-pound car down the road. The same boy who — only yesterday — thought it was perfectly fine to microwave tinfoil.
Because I told him so. (Hey, what can I say? The clueless apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.)
Driving. We all do it every day. Except for my mother, who never got her license, so now I’m forever sentenced to drive her to pick up some emergency Correctol because she’s “buttlogged”. Until you’ve had a heated argument comparing the symptoms of diarrhea to constipation in aisle 2 at the Stop-and-Go, you haven’t truly lived.
Every morning, we all tool down the road in our pathetic Priuses (is the plural for Prius Prii?) in a complete daze…oblivious to the passing scenery, the red lights, the angry honks, the screamed profanities and the travel mug filled with hot coffee bouncing off our car roof into traffic.
Ah, yes, I remember the day I finally got my hot little hands on that driver’s license to pure freedom.
The year: 1987
The catchphrase: “Don’t have a cow, man.”
The beauty trend: All hairspray, all the time.
Why did I look so ecstatic? (And dorky? And oh holy Aqua Net, what the hell is with my hair?) Because I passed my test on the first try, in spite of the fact that I:
A) Hit the curb while parallel parking.
B) Let the car roll backward after setting the parking brake on a steep hill.
C) Failed to yield to a car in an intersection.
D) Giggled like an idiot throughout the entire road test.
E) All of the above.
Answer: E. (there really was never a doubt, was there?)
Hopefully, god willing, (pleaseohpleaseohplease!) my son will be an excellent driver.
If not, I’ve got other distractions. Like my daughter taking puberty classes this week.
Annnnnd she’s got a crush on a boy at school.
Thankfully, I am a pro at these unsettling mother-daughter convos.
Me: Who is he?
Her: [double smirk]
Her: [triple smirk]
Her: [smirk times infinity]
Me: Schmaden? It’s Schmaden isn’t it!
Her: [so mortified she’s dying right in front of me]
No matter. I’m only writing this post to beg you all for prayers during this difficult time. Think of me. Soon enough I’ll be waving goodbye to my daughter as Schmaden peels away in his 2024 Mustang with the tinted windows.
*Actual boy in her class.
**Actual boy in her class.
***Actual boy in her class.
So tell me: What was your first car? How many times did you fail your driver’s test? Do you also have a son who is about to drive yet doesn’t know how to make a sandwich?