Janet Christie's Mum's the Word - Driving is like parenting - It's all about passing the test

Youngest Child is back behind the wheel

Mum's the Word. Pic: Adobe

Youngest Child sends a text.

“I failed.”

Her driving test. Again. Sigh. Here we go once more with the ‘it’s not you, it’s them, you’re a very good driver, anyone can make a mistake on the day, no-one passes first, second, third/insert number attempt, you’ll definitely ace it next time’ chat. After a decade of my children taking driving lessons and sitting tests, I deliver this with as much empathy as I can scrape up to mask the sinking feeling around having to fund yet another round of lessons at £60 a go. Three children, ten years, six tests so far. I could have bought myself a new car.

“Well, you decided to have children…” as one of them pointed out (I forget which, and that’s a good thing because festering resentment is never helpful in the parent/child dynamic), and it’s true - become a parent and penury will follow.

There’s the same predictability to Youngest Child’s response to my ‘you’ve failed, never mind’ pep talks: ‘It WAS me, I drifted on a roundabout, I need more practice, and Middle Child did pass first time, because he’s always good at everything, and annoying’, but we’ll go through the familiar dance anyway.

How much more satisfying it would be to simply be a bad parent and snap: “You failed again, ‘sake, what’s wrong with you? Why can’t you just pass the bloody test? I’m not made of money, jeez” and I run through it in my head for fun, before taking a breath to deliver the supportive version - I want to pass the parenting test.

Back on my phone she’s still typing and I watch the little dots, appreciating the extra time to dig deep and assemble my nice mother persona.

“Kidding! She texts. “I passed!”

“Yay!” I could cry with relief, if I hadn’t lost the capacity for tears. “The cocktails are on me!” I tell her.

At last the driving lessons decade is over. I now have three better than me drivers who can taxi me around like I did them, and I no longer have to fund the lessons. All that extra cash swilling around my bank account…

“I’m so proud of you,” I text. “And I’ll get you on the insurance.”

More dots appear, let’s call them the dots of doom: “Yeah, about the insurance. For 20 year-olds, have you seen the price?”

Janet Christie’s Mum’s the Word – life’s tutu short for body issues