EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.
Some variation on the words "When I get my learner's permit" or "When I get my license" fall out of the Roo-girl's mouth.
And I have total hysterics.
For several reasons, really.
1) The idea of her on the road scares the ever-lovin' crapola outta me.
2) How can she be old enough to drive?
3) She won't need me any more.
4) MY BAYBEEEEEEEEE!!!!
Well, you get the idea. I dread this with a passion that stuns even me.
3:30 p.m. (text message): i was wondering if maybe u culd take me to (city 15 minutes from home) for little-kids-cheer-team practice at 5:30-7 :-)
*We will not speak here about spelling and txtspk. I have given up. At least she asked with a smiley face.*
I was, at the time, about 45 minutes away, in the middle of an interview (!) for a freelance writing job (!!!!!). I finished up with the guy (eyerollish story for another day) and drove home.
And got BACK in the car and drove her to the practice, where she could see her old coach and old friends. Since I somehow thought she had said 5:30 to 7:30 (undoubtedly due to my ancient vision and the smiley face next to the 7), I drove home. Sigh.
7:05 p.m. (phone call): Mom, I'm done. Can you come get me?
Uh. Ok. Oops.
7:20 p.m. (phone call while I'm still on the road): Mom, can I go to the movies with Lori? It's a 7:45 show. They'll pick me up.
They'll pick you up where???? At home?
Yeah. So I'll just hurry the heck up, thanks.
And, um, can I ask how you are planning to get home from the movie?
7:30 p.m. (sheepishly, in person, in the car): Well, um, can you pick us up after?
Sigh. Again. Which movie theater? Why, the inconvenient one, of course!
9:30 p.m. (phone call): Mom, we're done. Can you come get us?
Let us recap: Approximately every 90 to 120 minutes, I got in the car to drive her somewhere.
Wait. WHEN does she get her license again??
Can it be tomorrow?