16

 

So, it's here.  A 16th birthday.  A veritable rite of passage, especially it seems, for The Boy.  He turned 16 today.

It's been a little strange here this week leading up to his big day.  The stunningly patient and mighty fine SML is still out west, depositing CAL in her dorm and I was traveling all week, getting home late last night.  It was up to me to provide the traditional breakfast in bed this morning, so that I did.  Bagel sandwich at 545AM (gotta love early morning seminary).  The Boy woke up knowing today was the day - a driver's license.  Sadly, my plan to pull him out of school and be the first on line at the DMV was thwarted by the plague that has gripped the working world - the conference call.  They are infernal and never-ending.  They will be the death of me.

Anyway, while I spent the day feeling the tumor caused by the length of time I was on the phone today growing exponentially, the Boy made ready at school for getting his license.  As soon as we got home, he was hollering that he was ready to go, so I tore the Devil's Headset from my head and we were off to the DMV.  It's a sad state of affairs when the thought of spending time on a Friday afternoon in the DMV is a welcome relief...

Say what you will about the state of governmental affairs in Illinois, and believe me, there's PLENTY to say, but the DMV has got it going on.  Maybe it's the fact that our Secretary of State, Jesse White, has a troup of tumblers (you read that right...tumblers...gymnastic tumblers) that he trots out from time to time, but if that's what it takes to inspire the DMV, then keep doing it.  They are, dare I say it, courteous and even nice.  And efficient.  We were in and out in less than 35 minutes and the Boy is now a newly-licensed driver in the great state of Illinois.  And my insurance company is praying, praying, praying for something like this to go down:

Apparently my premium increase won't be funding enough of their future, so I'm quite certain they'd like nothing more to see the Boy involved in a spectacle like the image above.  Fascists.

It's a lot of fun to see him smiling from ear-to-ear.  I remember the exhilaration I felt when I got my license.  It meant independence.  It was exciting.  It meant I was growing up.  I see the same in the Boy.  I better stop while I'm ahead or I'll get wistful and having married off one daughter, said good-bye to another as she goes to university, and now this all in the past week, I'm likely to have another melt-down.