Edwin has gardening club every Thursday after school at Wakefield, and since he’s working on his 45 required driving hours in order to get his license, he drives everywhere he needs to go.
As he pulled out of the driveway and headed to the end of the block, I sensed something was different. Where was the knot in my stomach? Why wasn’t I pressing on my imaginary brake? Could it be? Am I more relaxed now? More importantly, is he becoming a better driver?
I can’t stop myself from rapidly waving my hand to the left whenever he drives down side streets, indicating he’s too close to the parked cars on my right. Sometimes I overdo it. “Mom, if I move over any farther, I’ll be crossing the yellow line. They say never cross the yellow line.”
I had to put him in his place when he got a little snarky after I suggested he brake sooner when approaching stopped cars. I every-so-calmly reminded him that I am the coach in this situation and that he is still inexperienced. Well, maybe not so calmly; I guess you could say it was more like a mama bear smacking down her cub.
I’m happy to report that he sailed smoothly into the parking lot at Wakefield and that the ride home was uneventful, with a noticeable tone of respect for the coach.
My Corner of the Village 