He’s mobile…



He’s mobile…

Yeah! That ’s right! The Boy is now a licensed driver in the State of Florida with all the rights and privileges afforded said drivers. Well… all the rights and privileges offered by the sovereign nation state of Mom/Dad anyway.

There are still curfews, still occupancy limits, and territory boundaries. Tracking software to install, surveillance satellites to launch, boots to attach to wheels… so much to do, so much to do!

Mayhap knowing that he will be motoring to class in his own car, The Boy will spring from bed in the morning without my constant nagging. One can only hope.

I do know that I will be making up bogus shopping lists to send him on errands to the grocery… milk, eggs, butter, ice cream, Snicker Bars… the possibilities are endless!

Because he already had his permit, the writing portion of the test was waived. The driving part, taken in his own 1990 Plymouth Laser, was no big thang. Took all of 10 minutes of driving around a bunch of neon orange cones.

Hubs was more nervous than WK was. Couldn’t even wait around to watch, dad had occupy himself at a nearby store so he wouldn’t be too anxious. I was oblivious, staying at work until the deed was done. I did have to text WK my own ‘good luck’ wishes.

WK is giddy happy, dancing in the living room. Antsy to get out for an extended drive by himself. His first solo trip is to pick up two medium bacon and sausage pizzas.

Ah… freedom!

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