I was looking forward to teaching my son how to drive. I’d taught my little brother and both of my stepsons years earlier. All of them had commented that I was a much better teacher than their parents, whom they had said were nervous and panicked, causing my brother and stepsons to drive badly.
When they got in the car with me, I was totally chilled – gentle, supportive and encouraging. This caused them to drive better than they’d ever driven before, and then start asking me to take them for lessons instead of their parents.
I was quite smug about what an awesome older sister and step-mother I’d become. Really bloody smug.
Getting into the car next to my son was exciting at first. My beautiful boy was 16, had passed his learner driver test and was anxious to learn how to drive. I wanted to take him for the first time myself, before alternating between myself, my husband and formal lessons. But that first drive belonged to me.
We drove to a vacant estate nearby, pulled over and swapped seats.
We were both giggling excitedly and grinning from ear to ear as we put on our seatbelts and he turned the car on.
Then my stomach flipped, somersaulted and dead-fainted.
Just as an FYI, you should know that this post is sponsored by Nissan Pathfinder. But all opinions expressed by the author are 100% authentic and written in their own words.
My son, my precious boy, my BABY was operating a vehicle and would, in approximately one year’s time, be driving BY HIMSELF, without me sitting next to him.
And I’d never sleep again.
I concentrated on keeping the smile on my face as he gingerly moved the car forward, slowly at first, and then a little faster.
“Good job,” I said, wanting to vomit. “You really are a natural,” I added.