What? Me Worry?
What? Me Worry? Sixteen year old's generally want to drive. This has been the bane of my existence for almost that many years. Five of my kids are legal drivers. As far as I’m concerned I’ve done my part for humanity. When my number two son had his permit, we drove to the north side regularly to see a doctor there. One morning, he asked if he could drive. I innocently said, “Sure!” Forty-five minutes on the Dan Ryan made me lose all confidence in the whole idea. My son did fine, but I was a mess. Call me a control freak, but student drivers shouldn’t drive on the Dan Ryan. Heck, no one should drive on the Dan Ryan! Ever since that fateful day, I loathe having to drive with one of my blessings. I get anxious. It is unbelievably hard to hand them the keys. I’ve bargained with older siblings to take them out driving. I’ve told my husband it was his job. Of course, I feel guilty for not doing my part in ensuring a safe driver for the world. After all a good