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Apparently my husband suggested to our fifteen year old daughter yesterday that she try driving the car. Apparently she said yes and apparently they didn’t kill anybody since they both came home to tell about it. She and my husband had headed out Sunday afternoon for an indoor softball practice a half hour away and discovered when they got there that they were a week too early and had a vast empty parking lot staring back at them. I feel really grateful for my husband when he does things like this.

When the kids were small I had them start a little bound notebook full of birthday and Father’s Day wishes for their father that they would write in instead of buying him cards. (I only wished I’d had them start one for me!) But the pages are filled with drawings and stickers and scrawlings, and eventually block printing and then script handwriting, espousing his virtues. More than once between the pages of that book are references to things Dad would let kids do that Mom would not. Not that I wouldn’t allow driving at a young age, having grown up on a farm I am sure I inspired that idea in my husband. But the truth is, he has been the more lenient parent in some ways, and the kids have noticed.

Now she wants to leave home for a year, like her brother, and see the world and try out her wings, and Dad is blanching white at the thought. I say why not, a true believer in the idea that if you love something you must let it go, waiting to see if it comes back to you.

All I can say is I am glad she has the both of us because we balance each other out.