Baby, you can drive my car

Here’s what happens when your sixteen year old get’s his driver’s license:

1. He does not drive the car to school in the morning, he still makes you do it by lying about having a test to study for while you drive. (Note – He

I make the boy wear a suit when he drives me around

doesn’t study and he admits he lied because he doesn’t like to drive.)

2. He starts to drive to school because he’s tired of hearing you whine about it. You play with the radio purposely picking out songs he doesn’t like because he lied about studying for a test.

3. He drives to school everyday but demands to be in charge of the radio because he’s driving and when you used to drive you were in charge of the radio because “I’m the driver.” You point out you own the car but he can’t hear you because he has Iggy Azalea on too loud.

4. The boy drives to school and his sister decides she’s riding shot gun from now on. Both insist they are in charge of the radio since they’re in front. You sit in the back seat where you paint your nails, read the paper, and text your sister.

Congratulations, your diabolic plan of obtaining a free chauffeur has come to fruition. It may have taken sixteen years and you may have to have airbags installed in the back seat but, hey, it was worth the wait!