“In certain trying circumstances, urgent circumstances, desperate circumstances, profanity furnishes a relief denied even to prayer.” Mark Twain

Son is driving. I am riding shotgun. “Wait for those cars to go by before turn—“ Son abruptly turns left into oncoming traffic.

I tromp on the floor— Where’s the accelerator?!— Ohmygod! I will Son to go faster!Gofaster!Gofaster! Instead, I can’t believe it— he hesitates.

The oncoming car isn’t slowing down. I duck my head, shrink away from the door: the collision will occur on my side. Please, God, let me die, no head injury, no quadraplegia, and… we’re out of there.

I exhale in a whoosh, uncoil, inhale hugely, and shout “SHIT!!!”

Son snaps his head around for a second, startled. I rarely swear. I can tell: he has no clue what just happened.

My body shakes. My stomach churns. He’s learning to drive. My life is on the line. And will be, again. I breathe, processing this horrible reality of motherhood.

I am very mature about it: “YOU ALMOST GOT ME KILLED!!!!”

“Do you want to drive?” he asks kindly. His glance is tolerant: Moms are so excitable.

What a moron. Love for him overwhelms me. “No.”

Son keeps driving. No chat. He is the strong, silent type. I breathe in, out, in, out. I thought your life was supposed to flash before your mind’s eye with a near death experience. Mine hadn’t.

I open the post-mortem with an acknowledgment, always good form. “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling more confidence driving. That turn into oncoming traffic was a bold move.”

Son’s face scrunches up. “Did I make the turn too soon?”

“Little bit.” I pause. Then I explain, graphically. He blanches. A longish silence.

He mutters, “I hate learning things. I always get overconfident, and do something stupid.”

I am pleasantly surprised by this level of insight. But his conclusion, that has to go. Right now.

"Honey, no need to hate learning. Your emotions will swing like a pendulum. First you’re frustrated because you don’t know anything. Then you’re overconfident because you know it all. That’s the dangerous phase. It’s a well known fact. Everybody goes through it. Including adults.”

“Really?”

A little more review for educational purposes, and we’re done. Arriving at our destination, he parks nicely, says bye and leaves to go about his business.

I immediately drive to the local soft ice cream parlor, and scarf a vanilla chocolate dip. F**k the calories. Then I call my nearest and dearest, leaving messages everywhere: I almost died! Just want you to know I love you!

Dear Reader, that includes you. If, over the coming year, these posts suddenly stop without explanation, well.... Please, try to show a seemly grief.

PHOTO CREDIT: k.a. gilbert