Where does the time go? My ninth baby (and fourth son) is now sixteen years old. He's been looking forward to this day for quite some time, because now that he's 16, he can get his beginner's license. This is a very big deal for boys. Not that it's not a big deal for girls, but for some reason, Patrick has been stressing out about it for months. He studied the manual backwards and forwards to be sure he understood all the rules of the road. The rest of the children gave it a glance...read through it once or twice...but didn't sweat it.
On Monday we'll head to the DriveTest office. I am sure he'll do fine!
It's funny how every single time, when one of my children turns 16 and it's time to take them for the test, then LET THEM DRIVE HOME, Daddy is nowhere to be found. He is off working, or on an errand.
And they say that men are brave. Let me tell you, you haven't seen bravery until you've witnessed a mom white-knuckling it down the road while her sweet sixteen year old is hugging the right. "Careful, now...you'll put us in the ditch!"
It doesn't get easier just because you've done it before. I REMEMBER! This sounds a bit like labour pain, doesn't it?
Anyway, Patrick has grown into a fine young man. He's a hard worker who tries to do his best at whatever his hand finds to do. He is best buds with his older brother, Daniel, and sometimes we have to remind Pat that he isn't tied at the hip to Daniel! "Go to bed, Patrick!"
"What about Dan?"
"Don't worry, he'll be up in a minute!"
Daniel shares a room with Patrick and the youngest brother, Christopher. They will be drifting off to sleep, but invariably Pat thinks of something to talk about.
Linda describes it like this (You have to realize that Patrick has a deep voice, and talks fairly quietly, so the words are hard to distinguish) :