Rite of Passage

January 5, 2010

I just spent $285 on driving lessons for Patrick. Not bike lessons. Not roller blade lessons. Automobile driving lessons. I should have seen this coming once he grew taller than me and gained pounds on me (although the latter was hard to do and took some time!). I’ve called him Shorty for six years, and now he calls me Shorty, and old lady and grandmaw. I told John I had until February 15 to teach Patrick how to drive, and he went off on a tangent about not letting him drive on streets or I’ll get arrested, and what about our insurance, isn’t that going to go through the roof?

We’re looking at this from two different perspectives, just like most everything we approach. I’m excited, he’s Mr. Dooms Day. I can’t wait for Patrick to start driving, he thinks it’s too soon. I made the reservation and paid the fee, and John said there’s no hurry, let’s wait. Since we have a lull between team sports, now is the opportune time to get it lined up, and then he can drive for the next few months in both winter and spring weather. The driving school is even hiring! Maybe I’ll get a part-time job, teaching my own son how to drive!