February 18, 2011

Permit Driver

I prolonged it long enough.  Ryan turned 15 on January 22nd.  Now it's the third week of February and I just now took him to get his permit.  

Me: "Ryan, it's snowing, can't take you to get your permit today".

Me: "Ryan, it's not a good day, I'm really busy (doing laundry and washing my hair and scrimming through catalogs)".

Me: "Well I would have taken you tonight but you have a basketball game".
I finally ran out of excuses.
I bit the bullet and took my eldest child, my baby, to take "the test".
"The test" that says, you're not a baby anymore.
"The test" that says, you're soon not going to need momma so much.
"The test" that says, you're about to fly the coop, leave me with no ball games, marry some girl that I will have to share you with, and have five babies.   All the while, I'm getting old and wrinkled and achy and tired and CRANKY!
When Dad took you and Grandpa Larry on a fishing trip to Canada several years ago, we got this photo ID of you.  (Just in case a Canadian thought you would make good fish bait)  Dad would have proof that you belonged to him.  Anywhoo, you pulled this out of your Winchester black leather wallet today, then replaced it with the current one.  The one that says you aren't 5'02" and 85 lbs.  The one that says you now tower over your momma and you shave and you talk in a deep voice and you have a girlfriend.
The signature on the old one reminds me of millions of school papers that you brought home in your dinosaur backpack.  The signature proves to me that you really were small enough for me to wrap in my arms and snuggle (and you weren't too cool to do so).

When you handed me the pink slip of paper that said you passed, my heart fluttered.
Then you said...........

Ryan: "Can I drive back to school now"?
Me:   "Ummm... no, we have to go to the license bureau first".

after going to the license bureau

Ryan: "Can I drive now"?
Me: "Uhhhh, let me think.  (then he grabs the keys from my hands and gets in the drivers seat.)

The whole time he drives my jaw is clenched and my butt cheeks are squeezed together (I know, too much information).  Then I start shouting out orders.  It's instinct.

"Stay between the lines", "Go faster", "Go slower", "Adjust your mirrors", "Both hands on the wheel",

You know...... all those things that I don't do myself!!!

So now it's official.  He is permitted to drive on paved roads.  He is permitted to control a one ton machine that reaches speeds of 100+.


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