“She’s a good driver, Mom.”

How many other parents of teens have heard that sentence and had their heart jump into their throat?

Wednesday I let Dobby ride home ‘with a friend’ instead of on the bus. There were several factors in play here, I had a dentist appointment at 3:40 and she needed to stay after for her MCAS Prep course. Both are very important however, they were happening about an hour and a half from one another. Because of budget cuts (thank you Gov. Romney Buttmunch) there are no late buses so if I can’t pick her up, she can’t stay after. So, she rode home with ‘Emily’ whom I have never met (however her mother knows my cousin’s mother or something – it’s a small town) but I was assured by my daughter that, “she’s a good driver, Mom.” Which put the fear of God into my heart.

You see, I have known a couple of people who were killed in High School because of sheer adolescent stupidity behind the wheel. To this day, if you mention ‘Webby’* to a local they will remember a tall, good looking boy of 17 who was killed because when he and his friends saw a truck coming at them they all jumped into the backseat of their car (no logic there, see what I mean about the adolescent stupidity?). The other was the younger brother of my 9th grade boyfriend, Jason. He piled into a car with a bunch of friends to go to Friendly’s for ice cream after a dance, the roads got icy and two of them were killed when they slid into the path of an oncoming car. At the time of his death my dad was a mortician so I got a peek at the death certificate – suffice to say it made quite an impression on me.

So, I had more than just getting turned into Frankenknitter to worry about while at the dentist. Well, RR was coming with me so he worried for me so I was able to let the gas work while Dr. Winters did his magic ;o) I was still worried but at least I was sharing the worry, right? (for the first time, the nurses at the dentist all observed that I looked worried – huh, wonder why that was.)

There seems to be a theme going around blogland these days, at least the blogs who have children. We’re all wondering where the time has gone and where are little ones have gone and when were they replaced by these young people. I guess I am, too. But moreso since Dobby lived with her dad until she was 11, so I’ve only had the joy of her company full time for the past five years. Before I know it I’ll be hearing, “He’ll make a good husband, Mom.” *shudder*


*Small towns = everyone has a nickname. Although, I think I managed to escape getting one. My daughter isn’t known as ‘Dobby’ only on this blog – she’s known just about everywhere as Dobby ;o)

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