Permit Day
By Paula Schmitt

In the state of Vermont, and in several other states, teenagers are given the privilege at age fifteen, to get a learners permit. A written test is taken by the youngster in which they are allowed up to four of twenty answers to be incorrect – Yikes!

I remember, not that long ago, driving down the road with my children as passengers, passing other cars where it appeared that a parent was a front seat passenger and a young peewee, or was it a young teenager, was behind the wheel – Uh Oh.

I didn’t even want to think about it, no way. I knew someday that would be me, the front seat passenger with the peewee behind the wheel. I kept telling myself, hey, stop worrying about it; you have lots of time before Permit Day…

How time flies when you’re having fun. You see, I have four boys and my oldest, who is now sixteen, just got his junior operator driver license… God I’m getting old! It’s like clockwork and I remember it well. As soon as the fifteenth birthday arrives, it’s off to the Department of Motor Vehicles and one more gray hair for mom. <continued below>
 

So, now my second oldest son has turned the magic fifteen, oh boy, and we are off, once more, to the dreaded DMV. Now I have not one, but two, eager peewees ready to spread their wings and fly – I don’t think I’m going to make it.

I don’t believe that any parent is ever really prepared for the big day. Look at me; the art of stalling, as only a mom can master. Oh, did I set up your permit appointment today? Actually, no, I’ve been doing laundry all day and I had a couple of phone calls I needed to be on, so sorry. Or, what day is your permit appointment? Err…Oh, yes, I was scrubbing floors and dusting the house all day and I guess I just lost track of time and haven’t set that up yet…maybe tomorrow.

Finally, the young peewee wins and I, the parent, run out of lame excuses. Darn. It’s time for me to let go and give in. Chalk up one more gray hair for mom.

The appointment is now set and my son has been studying, religiously. Remember, only up to four wrong answers allowed.

The big day has arrived and we set out for the drive to the DMV. I try to make conversation with my son, only to control my overprotective mom jitters. Ugh!

We arrive on time and are directed to the testing area where there is a large waiting room for the lucky parents. Lucky me. My son is called to go back and take his test now. He jumps up with a huge smile as his name is called and I quietly whisper, good luck.

The test is over within ten minutes, but what seems to be an eternity for me as I notice I am perspiring in the waiting room as yet another gray hair pops out.

I look up to see my son grinning from ear to ear. It’s over now and time for the photo to be taken, he announces. What? You’ve passed the test? Could this really be happening to me? Again?

As we walk out of the DMV to head home I take a deep breath and realize just how proud I am of this young man beside me. I also remember quite well how not that long ago I was that young teenager grinning from ear to ear when I received my permit – well, it wasn’t that, that long ago!

I now have two down and two more to go. Will I survive? I don’t doubt it. I’m sure I will have the same DMV day jitters and more gray hairs to follow. What are moms for anyway?

It’s funny to think back on all the times I’d seen other parents as the front seat passengers with a peewee behind the wheel, but, now I am that front seat passenger and I look over, so proud, and I have to smile at my peewee that’s behind the wheel.

Bio:
Paula Schmitt is a writer and mother of four boys living in Chelsea, Vermont. Talk to her at pj5@sover.net and read her latest column at http://paulaschmitt.netfirms.com