It looked like she was nervous, which starting to make me nervous.

Take a deep breath. You got this. Ok, now take the car out of park and shift the gear into drive.

Riley tentatively reached for the gear shift, but forgot she had to keep her foot on the brake. Frustrated, she tried again. This time, success!

Suddenly, I was having flashbacks to potty training her. I recognized that serious look—determined, anxious, completely focused. Riley has never been one to rush. She does things on her own time. And over the years, I’ve had to learn to respect that.

So when she came to me and said, can I start practicing driving? I knew she was ready, even if I wasn’t.

Just a few weeks earlier, I’d been pushing her in a different direction, nudging her to give volleyball another shot after a season on the JV team. She had told me—clearly, repeatedly—that she wasn’t interested. But I kept pressing. Because I wanted it. Oh the things we as parents have to learn to let go of, especially our own agendas.

Eventually, she said, calmly and firmly, I didn’t want to do it in the first place. She’d done it to appease me.

Yikes. That one stung. But she was right.

And honestly, this is who we raised her to be: self-aware, emotionally intelligent, clear about her boundaries.

Now here we are, another milestone. Just as soon as we both get past the terror of her behind the wheel.

It took a few false starts and some jerky stops, but by the end of our first hour, she had the basics down. She was confidently cruising in circles around the clubhouse parking lot, dodging the occasional car and walker in her path.

Not bad for her first driving lesson. Not bad for me, either.

SDW3