Hailey is in that weird age of kids who had to learn how to drive in the middle of covid times, which meant that basically it was practically impossible. When I was getting my license I just walked in off the street for my driving test with a parent and my social security card. Hailey’s journey included driving classes, original forms, special online classes, and a two month wait to get an appointment at the DMV for their driving test.
They also needed their social security card, utility bills, proof of insurance, report card, car registration, application, an original copy of drivers ed completion, a certificate of Impact Training, my voters registration card, the ability to parallel park, a tuxedo cat born under a blood moon, a notarized photo of the ghost of your great grandmother, a three-inch section of your umbilical cord, your stripper name (your first pet’s name + the street you lived on), an unlisted object that changes depending on the wind direction, a zodiac chart showing the planets at the moment of birth, a doctor’s note if you’re a Sagittarius, a bottle of Taylor Swift’s laughter, the answer to a wizard’s ancient riddle. And $33 dollars.
A few of those are hyperbole but not as many as you’d think.
But as off this morning? This sweet summer child passed their final test and has their license:
And I’m feeling equal parts proud at how far they’ve come, angst at how quickly they will leave, and utter bewilderment at being exposed to Hailey’s musical playlist for so many hours of practice driving. Nothing prepares you to hear your sweet baby happily bopping away to Childish Gambino, raunchy Cabaret songs, and absolutely belting Billy Joel’s Zanzibar while flying down a country road.
Be careful out there. For me.