Driving With Mr. 15

You met him when he was Mr. 3, an adorable bundle of love and smiles and curiosity.  He was happy to climb at the playground for hours, while his mom worked and I watched.

I took him to buy hissing cockroaches at The Bug Shop and crystals at The Rock Shop (those are the real names, not blogonyms.... creative, eh?).  I drove him to the park with his scooter and to play basketball at the courts partially funded by CTG's foundation.  I watched his soccer games from the sidelines and basketball from the bleachers.

Today, I'll be watching him sit behind the wheel of a car, driving.

Amster says she won't sign him up for driving lessons until I think he's safe behind the wheel. She thinks he's fine, but she wants confirmation.  She's the only one he's driven; he needs more practice with someone not his mom.   

I am the designated "Is This Okay or Not" person, because every parent needs someone who loves their kids as much as they do  and who will step in and say Good Job or Whoa without fear of recriminations or outrage.  We are that for one another.

So, this afternoon Mr. 15 and I will cruise around our old stomping grounds, checking out the Ace Hardware where we bought his mom a plant, then following the twisty curvy up and down road as far as it will take us.  I'll show him how to parallel park ( a skill I taught everyone who asked) and I'll reassure myself and his maternal unit that the world will be safe with him behind the wheel of a moving mass of metal.

How did this happen?  When I close my eyes, I still see this:

The world keeps turning, and I am here to see it.

Life is good.