Backseat Driving

Joel is the worst backseat driver. This is how it usually goes when I am the one driving the car and he is enduring the trip in the passenger seat:

"Elise, those people are going to cross the crosswalk up there."

(Already pressing the brake pedal) "Yes, honey, I see them."

". . . I know."

"Well, then why did you point it out?"

"I just. . .I just wanted to make sure. Hey, you can turn now."

(As I'm already starting to turn) "Yes, honey, I know. . ."

"Why are you still behind this guy? He's going so slow!"

"Because we're turning right in half a block."

"Oh, great. Now we're going to miss this light, all because of this guy," comments Joel, now irritated.

"Doesn't matter," I say, "we don't have anywhere we have to be."

"It does too matter. We could be way up there by now!"


Usually I just let him drive. We're both much happier that way. When I'm all alone with the kids, though, I can have the run of the road minus the constant driving commentary. Until lately, that is. You see, Everett has recently discovered the wonder of traffic lights.

"Red light, Mama, red light! STOP!"

"Ok, Everett!"

"Jelly Bean, Jelly Bean, turn the light GREEN!" (the light turns.) "IT WORKED!!!!" He giggles profusely. "Go, Mama! GO, GO, GO! GO GO GO! Faster!"

"I'm going, buddy. I'm going."


For some reason, this backseat driving stuff is a whole lot cuter when it comes from the mouth of a two-year-old. Either this means that Joel just isn't cute anymore, or it means I have a soft spot for my young child. Whatever the reason, my car trips are not quite the same anymore. . .