Summer kicked off with a bang in our household: Our son is learning to drive.
Just yesterday, it seems, Sol was taking his first wobbly steps. Now, his feet ā 15 years older and considerably larger ā are learning how to press the gas and brake pedals while he simultaneously tries to hold the steering wheel steady and listen to his parentsā attempts at calm driving instruction. (And we had thought him learning to skateboard was nerve-wracking).
āLetās use Dadās car,ā I said on the first day of driving lessons. I climbed into my husbandās backseat, and he drove us to an empty parking lot near Santa Monica Airport. As the guys switched seats, I texted family and friends the prayer emoji, then hit record as my husband, Marcus, launched into instructor mode, explaining the pedals and their purposes. If the kid was nervous, he sure didnāt show it. School had let out the day before and he was ready. āIāll be driving in no time,ā he bragged. āMaybe even by the end of today!ā
Fake it ātil you make it, they say.
āAlright, now look forward and put your foot on the gas just a little bit ā a little bit ā and Iāll tell you where to go,ā Marcus said, his voice a deep, soothing lullaby. āGo slow.ā
Instead, the car jerked forward, speeding toward a building in the not-too-far distance.
āSlower,ā Marcus said, less calm.
Sol slowed, but I watched in amazement as his head turned to his left to gaze out the side window as though he were enjoying the scenery. As though he had been driving for ages.
āOk,ā Marcus said, calling his attention back to the scene in front of the windshield. āNow, put your foot on the brake slowly.ā
āSlowly,ā he said again for emphasis.
What happened next is captured on my phone, which, miraculously, did not fly toward the windshield as Sol braked so hard it felt like weād hit a brick wall. Whiplashed and wheezing (I was trying to suppress my laughter), I watched as Sol, tickled, too, let go of the steering wheel and bent over it, laughing.
But his foot was still on the gas. And the carā¦the car was still moving.
Luckily, my husbandās reflexes were sharper than mine as he looked from my son back to the windshield and saw us floating closer toward the building.
āNo, watch it! Put your foot on the brake!ā
Iām happy to report that our bang was not a collision, just an uproariously funny moment I hope weāll always remember.
How are you and your family spending the summer ā and what (or who) is driving it? We invite you to use our summer fun issue to help you make it more memorable.
And let summertime put on the brakes for a while.
Cassandra Lane is Editor-in-Chief of L.A. Parent and author of “We Are Bridges: A Memoir.”