My granddaughter, Sneaks, got her driving license. She texted me about it this morning, and I sat in my recliner with my feet on the seat, hugging my knees and gently rocking for hours while the TV played show after show, none of which I recall. Later this afternoon she informed me that because her insurance had not yet gone through, she did not get to do what she had planned, to drop her father off after the road test, pick up her friend and drive to school, and later drive herself to work and back.
So it’ll be a few more days before she’s on the streets solo. Whew — and oh good grief, I’m going to have to rock again in a fetal position. I did the same thing with my grandson last year, and both my kids years ago, but back then I didn’t need Glucosamine. Looks like I’m going to have to triple-dose during the next week so I can continue bending my legs like that. Because she’s my only granddaughter, I’m probably going to hug my knees for two or three days, and I suspect I’ll spend another day or more experimenting with lowering one foot to the floor, hugging one knee, and I’ll have to swap legs back and forth because joint vitamins only go so far.
But it must be done, I know, her getting her license. I can only hope that she has absorbed my philosophy about driving, which I have lectured for years to all of them, that you are responsible for the safety of everyone around you. Which of course is a sort of Golden Rule version of my original lecture: let everyone around you do whatever they want, just stay out of their way! But I am proud of her, happy for her, and I swear I will not use my grandfather status to burden her with going to a store for me, or taking me to a store. Parents will do so with the justification that it’s practice. I don’t agree with such laziness and have resisted it all my parental and grand-parental life. It’s just not right. However, she will drive me to Taco Bell once a week. I have gift cards.