It’s amazing how fast time passes. It seems like just yesterday that I was holding my son’s hand as I walked him into his first day of kindergarten. He had been so cute, with a face that was dominated by big brown eyes and an innocent smile, I had thought things would stay that way forever.
Gosh, what a fool I was.
This Friday I took him to the Secretary of State so he could get his driver’s permit. No longer the tiny youth who had clung to me, now he’s a good couple of inches taller than me and has a whole lot of cocky teenage confidence. He does have those same brown eyes though, so at least I have that.
I pulled into the parking lot and we both groaned when we saw all the cars. Grabbing books, we made our way inside. As he stepped inside, he literally walked into a girl about his age. Giggling nervously and flushing, she told him she couldn’t wait any longer and offered him her number. He smiled back at her and took it. While I was dismayed to see that my baby could now use his charm to get favors, I got over it quickly when I saw his number was 82. Since the people behind us pulled number 105, I said a silent prayer of thanks to teenage flirtation.
Somehow we managed to find a couple of seats together, despite the fact the place was wall-to-wall people. Every one of them had the same bored, put upon expression. I wonder if in the entire history of the Secretary of State has there ever been an instance where someone didn’t have to wait?
“Sweeeeeeeeeeeet…..” my son drawled under his breath.
“Oh, dear God,” I sighed. “I don’t want to know what you’re talking about, do I?”
“Look to your left, next row up.” He snickered.
There was a girl around his age and her pants were hanging so far down in the back, she was smiling at us. I was caught like a deer in the headlights, unable to look away as I thought, Now, why doesn’t she pull her pants up? There is no way she can’t feel the breeze.
“They’re almost to my number!” my son exclaimed, suddenly. “Here hold my book.”
“Why?” I asked. “It’s not like they’re going to make you do a handstand before they give you the permit.”
“I have to do my vision test.” He rolled his eyes at me. How had I ever thought they could have been innocent and sweet at one time.
“You’re not going to have to sign the letters. So I don’t see why I have to hold your book.” By now several bystanders were laughing at our banter. Nice to know we can provide all these suffering souls with entertainment.
Lucky for us our number was called next. After a short time, son had his permit proudly in one hand and the other one outstretched. I took a step back, defensive, because I knew what he wanted. Oh dear God, the horror. Boy wanted my keys.
Swallowing my fear, I handed them over. As I walked out, several people gave me sympathetic looks. I think one or two may have uttered a prayer for me. Son didn’t notice, too excited to get out to the car and finally become Master of the Highway.
“Just think, Mom.” He grinned. “We have at least fifty hours of drive time together before I can get my license. I’m going to be driving all the time now.”
Oh, yippee! I just hope I survive those hours. Pray for me.
-Stephani
Gosh, what a fool I was.
This Friday I took him to the Secretary of State so he could get his driver’s permit. No longer the tiny youth who had clung to me, now he’s a good couple of inches taller than me and has a whole lot of cocky teenage confidence. He does have those same brown eyes though, so at least I have that.
I pulled into the parking lot and we both groaned when we saw all the cars. Grabbing books, we made our way inside. As he stepped inside, he literally walked into a girl about his age. Giggling nervously and flushing, she told him she couldn’t wait any longer and offered him her number. He smiled back at her and took it. While I was dismayed to see that my baby could now use his charm to get favors, I got over it quickly when I saw his number was 82. Since the people behind us pulled number 105, I said a silent prayer of thanks to teenage flirtation.
Somehow we managed to find a couple of seats together, despite the fact the place was wall-to-wall people. Every one of them had the same bored, put upon expression. I wonder if in the entire history of the Secretary of State has there ever been an instance where someone didn’t have to wait?
“Sweeeeeeeeeeeet…..” my son drawled under his breath.
“Oh, dear God,” I sighed. “I don’t want to know what you’re talking about, do I?”
“Look to your left, next row up.” He snickered.
There was a girl around his age and her pants were hanging so far down in the back, she was smiling at us. I was caught like a deer in the headlights, unable to look away as I thought, Now, why doesn’t she pull her pants up? There is no way she can’t feel the breeze.
“They’re almost to my number!” my son exclaimed, suddenly. “Here hold my book.”
“Why?” I asked. “It’s not like they’re going to make you do a handstand before they give you the permit.”
“I have to do my vision test.” He rolled his eyes at me. How had I ever thought they could have been innocent and sweet at one time.
“You’re not going to have to sign the letters. So I don’t see why I have to hold your book.” By now several bystanders were laughing at our banter. Nice to know we can provide all these suffering souls with entertainment.
Lucky for us our number was called next. After a short time, son had his permit proudly in one hand and the other one outstretched. I took a step back, defensive, because I knew what he wanted. Oh dear God, the horror. Boy wanted my keys.
Swallowing my fear, I handed them over. As I walked out, several people gave me sympathetic looks. I think one or two may have uttered a prayer for me. Son didn’t notice, too excited to get out to the car and finally become Master of the Highway.
“Just think, Mom.” He grinned. “We have at least fifty hours of drive time together before I can get my license. I’m going to be driving all the time now.”
Oh, yippee! I just hope I survive those hours. Pray for me.
-Stephani
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2 comments:
Wonder if he inherited his mother's penchant for running the red light just before it turns green!!!!! And don't forget the mommy safety hand that flies across the car to protect wayward passengers from hitting the dash. (said with love and affection)
I swear, my child is the only one who doesn't seem to want his driver's license.
He just turned 17 and I told my husband to just let him take the test so he could start driving himself everywhere. I'm tired of doing it!
And yes, I'd be like you...almost horrified to hand them the keys...I can't believe just how different we are.
I knew how to drive a tractor when I was 7 and the car when I was 11. I learned how to drive a stick when I was 13 and by the time I was 16 and got my license, I also knew how to change the oil, the belts, the oil filters, the windshield wipers and all the basic maintenance on the car my parents gave me.
Today, kids can't learn those things because the cars are more difficult to work on.
Lynn
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