I've re-evaluated my Christmas and Easter Catholic status and decided I'm now a My Teenager Can Drive Catholic.
In case you're wondering in addition to Sunday mass, this includes a Tuesday and Thursday attendance as well.
The Chica has passed her driver's test and is now licensed to drive.
Typing that just caused a chest pain, not because I'm worried about her wrapping her cute little Toyota Corolla around a tree, but because this means that in one year, The Kid will be driving.
As much as she drives like a little old lady the Kid is going to channel Brian O'Conner from Fast Five.
I think I need to find a paper bag to breathe into just at the thought.
Last night she drove her and the Littlest Kid over to the house for the first time in her 'new-to-her' car. I told the BF that I envisioned the 12 minute car ride consisting mostly of the Chica telling the LK to stop fiddling with the radio. She was trying to concentrate.
Turns out I was right. He went to change the station and she almost took his arm off. Ahhh, sibling love.
The three of them will never be allowed alone in the car. Ever. I don't think I'd be able to look the policeman in the face after he brings them all home for taunting the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru people.
No, it's not beneath them. They're already plotting.
Anywho, apparently the Chica's grandmother bought the car from an elderly woman that hardly ever drove it. Although if we hadn't known it was once owned by an old lady, the 6,432 hard candies we removed from under the seats, every nook and cranny, pocket and cup holder would've given it away.
Seriously, we filled a small trash bag, oh, the joy of owning your first car. At least the woman didn't smoke.
So, while I'm getting used to the oldest being able to drive I'll be looking for used Sherman Tanks on Craig's List for when the Kid approaches driving age. (insert sign of the cross here)
In the mean time, I gotta go people, I'm late for church.