Last will and ‘textiment’

Reagan is 15 and has her learner’s permit.  I’m teaching her to drive.  Frankly, it’s terrifying.

She drives slowly when she needs to speed up, goes right when she should go left, forgets to look before changing lanes, yadda yadda yadda.  If you’re a parent of a child who has learned to drive, I know you understand.  Simple road rules and common sense aren’t coming easily just yet, and she thinks she should be allowed to drive anywhere, like fast moving interstates with speeding semis and frustrated commuters.  But contrary to her confidence level she’s just not ready, as evidenced by the fact that she gets honked at…a lot (and I mean, A LOT).

It’s very terrifying.

Last week she was driving my suburban while I sat on high alert with her in the front seat.  Keaton (13) sat in the back seat, ready with her usual barbs and quick-witted jabs at Reagan’s not-quite-there driving abilities.  It was just the three of us so I allowed her to drive on the “big road” to the mall. 

Oh. my. goodness.

Let’s just say that after a few minutes of swerving and careening, and a number of screams and ‘hollars’, I was frazzled in the front seat and Keaton was quiet in the back (not unusual for me, very unusual for her.)

As I white-knuckled my calm-on-the-outside-panicked-on-the-inside directions to Reagan (hoping to save our lives) Keaton leaned forward and whispered, “Mom, could you hand me my phone?”

“Keaton,”  I said slowly through tightly gritted teeth, “ I need both eyes on the road right now, why do you need your phone?”

She responded also very slowly and through her own tightly gritted teeth, “Because I’m going to write my will and send it to someone right now.  I don’t think we’re gonna make it outta here ALIVE!”