The Random Screaming Will Be The Undoing

When I became a mom sixteen years ago, I never did the math to see how old I'd be when my daughter was old enough to drive. Had I done that, I maybe would have made a plan to brainwash Becky to think that she really didn't want her driver's license until she got married. I could have completely convinced her that it's the best husband-wife honeymoon bonding there is.

I may or may not speak from experience on this. Except it would be learning to drive a standard, not driving in general. If I were speaking from experience that is. Ahem.

We now have a teen driver in the house. Just a permit, mind you, not a license, but a teen driver nonetheless. Because she passed her test, I figured I should do something special. We stopped at CVS to get sodas, because we know how to party, and then I took the back way home; partly to avoid the road construction, and partly to allow Becky to drive on less traveled roads her very first time behind the wheel. On a road. In public. As a legal driver.

Just breathe.

She did very well, actually. I know I shouldn't be surprised, but it was just what? A year or so ago that she asked if the mirror should be adjusted to see herself, or see out the back? And failed to put the van in drive before stepping on the gas while practicing in our driveway? Yeh, I've had reasons to fear. But she did well. I was congratulating myself that I was actually calm and enjoying this whole adventure when I realized that my hand hurt. The hand that had a death grip on the door handle.

Maybe I wasn't as sure of this as I thought.

I waited until she pulled into the driveway, and was almost at the house before I screamed. Loudly and suddenly. She jumped and had a slight panic attack.

This teen driving thing is going to be a lot of fun.