Ever since my son started kindergarten, we’ve lived in that hazy area that was too close to qualify for the school bus, but really too far for a kid to walk. Since my husband leaves for work very early, I’ve been the one responsible for taxi duty twice a day, five times a week, for the past fourteen years.
Oh, there was the odd carpool here and there, and for two years my son could drive his younger sister on some days. But with their different schedules I was still driving at least several times a week. This year, with him away at college, I’ve been back on full-time duty.
Until now.
My daughter got her driver’s license last week. Now she can drive herself the three miles to school every day. And I’m not sure how I feel about that. Part of me is rubbing my hands in glee, plotting what to do with those precious extra minutes I suddenly have in my day. But another part is feeling a bit obsolete.
Something tells me I’d better get used to that feeling.
