My recently turned 18 son has his licence. He has my old car. He is out there. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

It was tense today as we sat at the local VicRoads office waiting for the calculations to be done to determine whether he was going to get it or not. I asked him how he went as soon as he came in and the look was deflating. He felt he’d blown it. Eventually the tester returned and after a few seconds, during which I am sure I saw her observe his pain, in that powerful way that people do, who know they have control for 5 minutes, she smiled and congratulated him.

Tonight when I arrived home from work, not surprisingly he wasn’t home. I called him and he happily told me he was at McDonalds with his friends. I remember the freedom when I got my licence. It was a great feeling. Shortly afterward, his dad phoned to ask me about what boundaries I’d set. “He’s already been booked” he told me. “WHAT!!” was my stunned reply. I won’t go into the conversation I had with the ex, because we sometimes differ on occasions like this. I did question myself after that call though and wonder if I had been irresponsible as a parent.

When Tom arrived home, I asked him what had happened. He was outraged. He got pulled over on a very busy street in our town, and many people observed it and had got on the phone to spread the news. His passenger and friend had her seatbelt across her arm instead of over her shoulder. He didn’t get booked. He wasn’t speeding or doing anything wrong. I think it’s all kind of amusing. I hope he’s not reading this though, because he is far from amused.

On a serious note though, it is scary. I can no longer say to either of my children, “Don’t get in the car with “P” platers, cause they are “P” platers! I just have to trust they will be safe and in another small way, let go. I am very happy for him. Freedom is a wonderful thing.

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