(insert ominous music).

Brett wants his temporary license.

He could’ve had it February 8, but he got in trouble, and delaying his temps two months was the hugest punishment I could come up with, being the mean mom that I am.  Killed him, I tell you.

But I asked him what the Easter Bunny should bring him this weekend, and he said, “My temps”.

… and so it will be so.

I will take him later this week to pick up his testing package and pay the fees.  I’ll have to help him study then take him down for his vision and written test.

And then it happens.  I have to give him 50 hours of my time, driving my van.  I don’t even let my husband drive.  I’m too much of a control freak.  I would’ve driven to the hospital when I was in labor but he won that battle.  I’m serious.

I’m not sure why I’m scared, he seems like he’ll be fine.

 

 

 

 

I guess I’m more scared that my first baby, my number one miracle, the little redheaded boy that I cuddled for years, is about to be driving.

*sniffle*