Chauffeur

I finally understand at least a little of what my mom referred to as, “Mom’s Taxi”.

I was driving Owen and Ryan home from Costco and the park, and of course, the two of them were in their seats in the back of the car. The funny part was that they were yakking back and forth, chatting about going to the potty, asking each other when cars go potty (Owen asked, Ryan replied that cars don’t go potty), shrieking about the park we passed (Owen wanted to go, Ryan explained that we were going home), shrieking at me to “go, go, GO” (Owen), and then reminding me to wait until the light is green (Ryan) and just chatting with one another.

Now, rewind about 20 years, me and my best buddies sitting in the backseat on the way to ballet class, yakking about boys, music, dance, or whatever, and my mom sitting quietly in the front seat, silently amused (I’d guess) at the sweet, innocent little conversation being had in the backseat.

Fast-forward another 6 years, and I know I’ll look back on today as the first day I quietly eavesdropped into the inner workings of my little daughter.

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