I’ve lost track of the hours of worry. Okay, I’m known around my house as the serial worry-wart.
Close to Holden turning thirteen, I began to think about IT. You know, thirteen = teenager. And, as he moved deeper into teen-hood, towards fifteen, I hoped our State would legislate moving the driving age back to eighteen.
No such luck.
All Holden could talk about was getting his driver’s license. But being the busy guy, driver’s education was postponed until summer. That was fine with me.
Our State still didn’t act on the pending legislation…
I made the decision to put the responsibility of getting to class (early in the morning – those of you who have teens know what a big deal this is…) squarely on his shoulders. My plan backfired. Holden set his alarm and walked or rode his bike to class every morning. He not only made it to each and every class on time, but read the entire manual cover to cover. More than once. (I still haven’t gotten him to read an entire book that isn’t required by school.)
I slept in. Well, kind of. I lay there listening to him, worrying that he would get there on time – and safely.
Forward to April.
I was still dragging my heels. Holden lost his paperwork. (Woo-hoo! – I thought…)
No problem…the young girls at the BMV thought he was cute, so they let him take his Written while I ran the paperwork around. I paid an additional fee to cover the thirty minutes of my time and his lost paperwork, returning to find he had passed his written test. He proudly presented me with his huge frozen smile on his DRIVER’S LICENSE.
Jeez! Where did the past sixteen years go?
So here we are. He’s driving – with no passengers under the age of twenty-one (state laws) and our additional parameters (he pays insurance and gas, no phone or text messaging). And yes, I’m still worrying…