Happiness. It's relative.
I’m teaching my grandson to drive.
This is a new experience. We just finished either the fourth or fifth ‘lesson.’ All went well. Today, we drove a fair amount and then we went through the checklist that the driving test people ask – do you know the hand signals, where’s the defroster, where’s the emergency brake, can you turn your high beams on. This last one required that I get out of the car multiple times to see if how he was working the lever had the desired result.
I’ve never taught anyone to drive before. Someone else taught my four kids – school, driving school, their dad? I don’t even remember. I remember it wasn’t me. Probably because, as my older son suggested recently, I was too ‘worrisome’ to be a driving instructor. By this, I assumed he meant I’d be jamming on the imaginary brakes all the time and making that weird ‘we’re about to hit that pole’ sucking sound with my teeth that he’s heard a few times.
So why not let somebody else do this job? Well. My grandson asked, first of all. Said he’d be more comfortable with me teaching him than a driving school (which I offered to pay for). And so, I thought – I want to be the kind of person who will teach a kid to drive if they ask.
I didn’t want this job, but I think I’m good at it. First, I am excellent at positive reinforcement. Second, the challenge of planning ‘on the road’ outings to gradually up the ante appeals to me. Third, I am learning that sitting in the passenger seat with my hands in my lap, twiddling my thumbs is remarkably calming.
So, that’s the thing I’m changing about myself. Being that grandmother. The one who will teach her grandson to drive.
And be glad doing it.
I admire you for tackling this, Jan.
Jan, I read practically every one of your posts. They have become my little sanity treat at the end of the day before I head home. Thank you very much for being a wise person and a great writer!
What a wonderful comment to get. Thank you so much!