Jack came home with his learner’s permit last night and drove us to dinner.
That sounds so nonchalant. My kid drove. With all of us in the car. At the same time.
I took a few pictures and then passed the camera to Mike who took one from the front. Then he passed the phone back to me and I hunkered down in the back seat, posting the momentous occasion to social media and distracting myself from the need to pitch in on the instruction.
A Lamborghini will run a person anywhere from $200k to $4.5 million, which is totally news to me, but not to Jack who seems to have moved on from an obsession with video games, set in post apocalyptic zombie land, to a more expensive, but still fantasy-based hobby.
He’s also a fan of the Corvette and the Ferrari. He says when he starts making money he’ll buy me a Porsche. I tell him I don’t need a Porsche. I’m rockin’ a 2007 Prius with the door ding in the passenger side where Colin hit a cement post once while getting out of the car at school.
When we bought the Prius, I took my shiny, red, Acura with the sunroof to the consignment car lot. I cried a little bit. It just wasn’t a good mommy car.
