Saturday morning found us here, in what many people would refer to as the 6th, 7th, or even 8th circle of hell:
I was there to get my driver's license renewed. Olivia was there to get her -- sweet Baby Jesus -- learner's permit.
As we walked through the doors with everything in hand, everything that we had carefully laid out the night before, Olivia frantically whispered, "Mom. MOM. I thought my glasses were in here..."
"DAMMIT OLIVIA. You're just going to have to hope you pass your vision test without them," I said, in what is probably not the world's best parenting advice, especially when both a 16-year-old and 4,000 pounds of car are involved.
But, we were already in the DMV with ALL THOSE PEOPLE. If we left and came back, it would be an hour round trip and we'd have almost certainly died of old age or starvation or whatever there in the waiting room because people were flooding in like they were lemmings and the DMV was the cliff they needed to run over.
After Olivia nearly fainted or exploded from nerves, it was finally her turn.
She passed.
I was super proud of her.
I was also super horrified. You all, my kid is now for-real allowed behind the wheel of a car. Pardon me while I freak the hell out over this on so very many levels.
So, of course I tried to be a good mom by letting her drive on an actual road just as soon as I could find a quiet subdivision. It did not start off well. Hello, Mr. Pine Tree:
We had a lesson in NOT hugging the curb. However, after she got the initial jitters out of the way, she did remarkably well.
So well that we found another subdivision to try, this one more complicated (and with no pine trees). It also had THE cheesiest naming conventions I have ever seen. We giggled like the immature people we are. "Oh, yes, don't you know... I live in the Haut Brion section. Oh, I'm sorry, you're just in the Cheval Blanc?" Seriously? WHO NAMES THIS SHIT?
After acting like creepers for a while (I'm sure the people watering their lawns were all, "WTF? This car keeps passing us going 17 miles an hour..."), we switched places and ran some other errands.
By the time we got home and I put our stuff away and started a load of laundry, I walked past Olivia's room and found this:
Driving is hard work, y'all. (Also, she had some sweet curtain tie-back indentations in her head when she woke up.)
Later, John took her and Bea to Target for emergency flashlight purchasing (more on that in the next post). Turns out, he actually let Olivia drive there and back. On a real road. With traffic. That John, he is a brave, brave man.