81. Driving lesson (5)

Yet an other lesson. This story is now highly predictable.

'How did it go?' I ask.

I am on my way down the stairs and I stop to hear it better as today the outlook is perhaps a little more positive.

'Well, it depends how you look at it.' 

'The way the examiner will look at it on exam day.' 

'Why do we have to look at it this way?' And then she adds: 'Not so good then.'

An other comment that leaves me speechless. I need to remain calm, positive, encouraging, etc. But truth be told, I am so fed up with all this positive business. I want to bang my fist on the wall and shout at her. I want to tell her to take this seriously, that it is the first step into the adult world, that it is costing a lot of money and all that 'boring' stuff. But I don't. Because I am worried. Worse, I am scared! And this is not me. I am Super Mama in charge and all that. I take everything into my stride and I do not do worry. She fails? Big deal, have an other go at it. But instead I worry. I worry about my daughter's test and then I worry about me worrying about her. And I worry about the fact that now I worry about things. And now my head is spinning. This is driving (sorry) me insane. Soon Guilt, Worry's best buddy, joins in to tell me I should have taken the children go-karting more often because that is what good parents do. Good parents plan ahead and prepare their children for life.

I pull myself together and ask:

'So, what happened that made it not so good?'

'Well ... The examiner had to jump on the brakes because, she said, 'refus de priorité'. There. No big deal, next time I won't do it. And I drove onto a kerb again. But it's OK, mum, don't worry! I won't do that again. I got it now.' She goes on her way, singing to herself and repeats, just in case I missed it.

'Yep! I got that driving thing now. It's just a knack. Once you've got it, you're ok.'

I am stuck on the fifth step, not remembering if I was on my way down or up the stairs. I need to understand. 

'What does that mean? Did you cut someone up? Did you go through a red light? Did you knock over an - other - pedestrian?' 

As I say these words, I sit down on the step. I feel safer. I cannot remember which way I am going anyway. My daughter is getting a little impatient with me (I want to point out that it should be the other way around but I take yet an other of what I call an educational shortcut).

'Look! I was at the roundabout, waiting patiently (she stresses the word) and this car was so slow. I thought it must be an old age pensioner and so, well, plenty of time. And I went for it. But that old guy must have seen the driving school sign and he accelerated. I'm sure he did. So the instructor yelled and jumped on the breaks. And I stalled. Which created a kind of mini-mini-traffic-jam. Now you know.'

I think I am going to be sitting on that step for a long time. What can I do? What can I say? Where is Super Mama gone? My parenting skills seem to have dried up completely. I breathe deeply, count to 3 and I try honesty.

'I can't help you there. You're on your own.' 

But it sounds harsh so I try to soften the blow. 

'If we were on your great-uncle's farm I would take you fro a practice run into the fields with his 4x4.'

And then - and I don't know why - I say:

'If you fail, we will do that.'

She is not pleased! She yells:

'MUM! How dare you have so little faith in me? You're the mum! You are supposed to be encouraging me! All the time! Not talk about failure!'

I put my head in my hands and try to breathe steadily. Her older sister (whose prowess we will not delve into) appears out of nowhere and nearly misses the step I am sitting on.

'MUM! What are you doing sitting on the steps? Go and sit somewhere more sensible!' She stresses the word 'sensible'.

Then she sees her sister and laughs.

'Oh! I see! Driving lesson time.' She looks at her sister: 'Knocked someone over?'

'You'll see! I will pass. First time. Just wait and see.'

I get up, shakily make my way downstairs and I go and sit down at the desk. I make a chart, similar to the ones prisoners draw on the walls of their cells in movies. I draw a big neat cross in the first box. 10 days to go. We'll get through this.