This past weekend, I let my 14-year-old daughter drive my van. Now, before you go calling me crazy and irresponsible for letting someone that young behind the wheel, just keep in mind that we were driving in a big empty parking lot and I let her drive BEFORE I made her drink all those tequila shots.
It would be a funnier story if she somehow managed to drive the van into a ditch or ran over a pedestrian, but she did very well and paid careful attention to my instructions ("No! No! Your OTHER left! AIIIEEEEEE!!") and we both survived her first drive with no visible scarring.
But it made me sad. It was just yesterday we were building pillow forts on the bed and playing Pretty Pretty Princess (at which, for the record, I totally kick ass) and now I'm teaching her to drive. I'm not ready for her to be behind the wheel of a car, just like I wasn't ready for her to take the training wheels off her bike, pick out her own clothes or stop calling me 'Daddy.'
Seems to me a large part of parenthood is spent trying to catch up to your kid, and you never get to really know them since they grow too fast. Just when you get used to the idea of them walking on their own, they're riding a bike. Just when you get used to that, they're going to a school dance. Just when you get used to that, they're a hardened criminal, etc., etc.
The best I can hope for is that someday, she'll stop running and growing and maturing long enough for me to catch my breath and let me say, "So THIS is who you are. THIS is the person you're going to be. THIS is how you're going out into that big bad world."
Then I'll tell her to go change her damn clothes because she looks like a bum. And to clean her room while she's at it.
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