My wife and I have noticed recently that Michael has taken to questioning our driving abilities.
Just about anywhere we go, seconds after we’ve left our neighborhood, Michael will begin loudly casting doubts upon our course:
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?”
“I don’t think this is the right way.”
“We’re getting lost.”
“You’re definitely going the wrong way.”
It doesn’t matter that in every instance we actually arrive where we intended to.
It doesn’t matter that we take the same routes to the same place, every time, and that the landmarks don’t change.
It doesn’t matter that he himself still struggles with getting his shoes on the right feet.
In his mind, we’re all clueless.
And aside from the gloom report, he’s started to become a nagging alarm as well:
“Don’t hit that dog!” (when passing a dog that is thirty yards away, on the other side of a concrete barrier)
“Watch out for that cone!” (while slowly negotiating a turn around an orange pylon that is a good ten feet from the side of the car)
“You’re too close to the edge of the road!” (from the middle lane)
“Don’t forget to stop at the light.” (because Lord knows I love running them)
“You can go now. What are you waiting for?” (light just turned green, but there are twelve cars ahead of me)
I’m not sure where this comes from, aside from perhaps his listening to my own tirades against other drivers, or maybe even as the result of some experience he had while we were in the car in which I got us lost (which, to my memory, has never happened).
In any case, I’ve decided that since I cannot stop it, I’ll bend like a reed in the wind and just play along:
Michael: “Are you going the right way?”
Me: “No. I’m just driving around aimlessly.”
or
Michael: “I don’t think you know where you’re going.”
Me: “That’s true, I don’t. Aren’t we having fun?”
and
Michael: “Are you sure this is the right direction?”
Me: “Hmmm… I don’t know. Do you know which way is the right direction?”
Michael: “No…”
Me: “Then I guess it doesn’t matter which way we go.”
He doesn’t like it much, but it makes me feel better.
What I’m really looking forward to is when his older sisters start learning to drive. If they give me any trouble I’ll just threaten to make them drive with Michael behind them.
That would be quite the threat to your daughters to have a booster seat driver tag along with them.
(MD) Yep. Parenting is a test of resourcefulness, and Michael is a resource.
There were times when taking him to school that he told me I was going the wrong way. We went the same way EVERY day!!
(Hubby) What I don’t get is what makes him think he knows better. I’m already starting to panic thinking about him reaching the teen years.
Actually what he is waiting for is his turn to drive. Offer him the chance and see what he does (as if I don’t already know). I will not forget how he got my Prius started in some strange and magic way that still eludes me. The little scamp.
This was an hilarious or is it a hilarious, things are changing? piece to read.
Keep up the good work.
(MD) He’s always figuring out some new and different way of doing things, in ways we can never duplicate.
I had one of these and it wasn’t fun at the time. That’s because I didn’t bend like a willow in the wind. Your post, however, was hysterical. I wish I would have thought of these responses and I wish I had Michael when The Oldest was starting to drive. That would have been priceless!
(MD) Around here it’s either laugh or cry. I survive far better if I just let a bad situation de-volve into the absurd.
If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
I say let Michael give all the directions from now on while you continue to go wherever you are going and let him believe you are even more incompetent that he already does.
(MD) Hmmm. Might as well; his sisters are already of that opinion.
I might could use Michael. I tend to get lost in thought and drive right past my turn regularly.
On another topic, thanks for all the good advice and support about my blogging future. I think if I can remember why I write I can forget about the other stuff.
(MD) Yeah, he’s good for keeping you from ever concentrating on anything other than his constant prattle. And, you’re welcome – it’s always good to keep your perspective.