My journey from “Super Parent” to “Bozo Extraordinaire” started when my first child figured out why deodorant is sold in various fragrances and was finalized when he walked into his first driver’s ed class.
Drivers’ Ed is an educational experience which teaches children that their parents are not only Bozos, but are Bozos who can’t drive without benefit of instruction from a 15-year-old.
These driving students know how far to park from a railroad track–a place I never plan to park. They know when to dim their lights and authoritatively give directions during every night outing.
If you, as a parent, get lost, hit a curb, or don’t immediately pull over when an ambulance passes, teens sigh loudly and shake their heads at your ineptness.
Allowing these self-proclaimed expert drivers to actually practice maneuvering in your personal car is encouraged. But this practice is a little bit like allowing your daughter to use your personal ears lobes to practice for when she gets her own ears pierced. I promise you, you, or your vehicle, will get hurt.
My son had a learner’s permit and 40 hours of classroom experience. This excessive amount of knowledge did not stop him from smashing out the headlight on our pickup.
“I barely hit the bush,” he said. “It’s kind of cheap they make headlights that just crack apart when they scrap past a bush.”
“You hit the mailbox, too,” I explained.
“Really?” he asked in astonishment. “They had a mailbox hidden in that bush?”
“The postman seemed to know it was there,” I mentioned.
“Well, I’m not driving a mail truck, now am I?” he rationalized.
“So you wouldn’t have hit the bush if you’d known about the mailbox?” I asked.
“Well, of course not. I’m not about to hit a mailbox.”
“But you just did.”
“Cause it was hiding,” he shook his head sadly and sighed over my ineptness.
Poor boy, it’s tough driving around with a Bozo.