Wednesday, November 4, 2015

Relegated to Shotgun Status From Now On

It's that big milestone in a teen's life.

Age 15 years, six months.

Time to head down to the DMV.
Lily was pretty excited about it, until she saw the line . . . wrapping around the entire circumference of the room. Two hours we waited in that line.

Then when we reached the desk, she took a quick eye test, got a number, and we waited another 45 minutes. The excitement of being 15 years 6 months was quickly waning. I found this hilarious video on Facebook that kept us entertained and laughing. Worth watching!
We watched it twice in a row, laughing so loudly that I'm sure every other grumpy DMV waiting person wondered what was so stinking funny. It made the time pass quickly at least.

Her number was called, she headed back to take the test, and I called my mom while I waited. The second she walked out of the testing room, I knew she hadn't passed--missed it by one question. That was a heartbreaker. I was so sad for her but sad for me as well, because I knew another three-hour wait at the DMV was in our future.

We were saved by her friend's advice. Just a few miles from our house is a private motor vehicle office that issues driver's permits. It costs an additional $12, but that was worth it in my book. Total no brainer.

We showed up after the mandatory seven days had passed until a retake was allowed. She had studied and crammed and stressed and even cried just a little as she prepared to retake the test, and she was ready.

Or so she thought.

Her confidence shook just a little when she was told the test would be written instead of on the computer like she had practiced, but I rubbed her back and encouraged her before she disappeared into the test taking cubicle. After what seemed like forever, she emerged. "You have to get 13 right, and I was positive on 12 of them. I think I passed."

Again we waited as the test was scored. When the clerk approached us with Lily's test tacked to a clipboard, Lily noticeably held her breath next to me.

"You . . . " seemed like forever till she completed that sentence ". . . passed."

I thought Lily was going to explode. She jumped from her seat, pumped her fists in the air and kicked her legs. The clerk thought Lily was going to attack her, but she obviously was unfamiliar with the excitement level that surrounds my girl.

Now she asks to drive wherever we go. She was starting from zero experience, and I had to explain blinkers, brakes, acceleration, and turning. It's been two weeks now, and she's getting better and better. Thirty-minute drives home from late-night rehearsals for "The Secret Garden" (get your tickets here--opens tomorrow and runs for two weekends--it's awesome) have been the perfect opportunity for her to maneuver city streets when they're virtually deserted. I still slam my foot to the floor more than once each time we're driving, but I'm doing it less and less. In five months, she will be driving herself around--and being my errand girl.

Can't wait for that. I've missed having another driver around here.

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