there's a reason they have their own day.

once upon a time on a lovely sabbath afternoon, a newly turned fifteen year old daughter asked her mother if she could drive the less than one mile from church to home. her mother kindly obliged. after all, what could happen? little did her mother know, how little the fifteen year old knew about driving...

upon turning on the engine, and placing the nay blue, wood paneled mini-van into gear, the car started moving. both feet placed comfortably on the floor beneath the driver's seat, the fifteen year thought, that's odd. i didn't even press the gas. which one is the gas? continuing to move forward, the fifteen year old spoke--audibly, this time--to the mother, "which one's the brake?"

words cannot justify the alarm the mother felt, not only when she realized the the giant error in judgement she had just exercised by ignoring the tiny screaming voice in her head by letting her fifteen year old drive, but more so when she realized what stood a mere twenty feet away, directly in front of the inexplicably (to the fifteen year old, that is) moving automobile: the beautifully landscaped lawn and church building as well as a tot and her father walking hand in hand on the way to their own car.

panicking, the mother glanced at the fifteen year old, who was still looking bewilderedly at the pedals beneath her, then to the people who's lives hung in the balance, and back to the fifteen year old who seemed oh so far away even though she was in the in the driver's seat right next to her. a split second decision. the mother lunged, nylons, sunday skirt, bouffant bob and all head first towards the fifteen year old's fumbling feet and pressed the brake pedal herself, with all knowing hands.

the mother up-righted herself. relieved, she looked at the two innocent lives she had just saved (who were only just realizing something was a wee hinky); triumphant, she re-fluffed her hair--who knew she was still that flexible? and livid she looked at the sheepishly grinning fifteen year old...