kiwords

Having a newly licenced driver in the family changes things. For instance, you would not believe how many errands a 16 year old boy has to run every day after school. It is boggling.

Fortunately, gas prices are so low...oh, wait. Well, that's okay, because we have so much money left over after paying insurance...um. But I guess it really helps us save up to get Tre his own car...hmmm. I guess it's a good thing that remodeling a house is such a cash-positive endevor. Ha! Ha ha! *headdesk*

When I get in my van after he's used it, the seat is moved back about a mile. I think he's mocking me.

And the radio station is always changed. And loud. And the bass is turned waaaaaaay up, so when I switch it to NPR, the timbre of the announcer's voices makes my doors rattle.

Okay, it's actually all the junk stuffed in the door compartments. Shaddup.

I know how old this next part makes me sound, okay? I know it's not original, that Grok's father grunted with irritation when Grok pounded two rocks together rhythmically, because HE didn't need that noise when HE was young. Running from saber-toothed tigers was PLENTY FUN ENOUGH FOR HIM. But. Have you heard of Dubstep? Better yet, have you HEARD Dubstep? It's...mostly it's just synthesizer-ish repetitive dance music, with questionable lyrics, and then randomly they insert a sound like a screwdriver being dropped in a blender. It makes my eyelid twitch.

This evening Tre was driving me somewhere, and a "song" came on, and the lyrics said something like, "I totally drank too much last night," and Tre reached over and turned it down.

"You know," I said, "I think I can handle it."

"Are you sure?" he asked, without a trace of sarcasm.

And that is what it's like, having a newly licensed driver in the family. It's kind of great.