“Ok, Joey, this is what you gotta do. You mover the gear into drive right? Because that’s what you gotta do; drive. And you lightly put your feet on the gas. Lightly. Unless you’re racing but you shouldn’t do that… But if you do I won’t tell your mother. Anyways , feet lightly on the gas, and you see, you mover forward. I’m not even touching the wheel. You don’t want to have a death grip on the wheel, that’s bad. So when you want to turn, you gotta line up your mirrors with the corner you’re turning at, like this. And then you turn the wheel, and straighten it back out… Ok now at this corner you do the same thing, but you just gotta watch for traffic.” por this time we had made our way around the block. “You think you got it bud?” I ask Joey.

“Steven Randel, what do you think you’re doing?” My wife (Y/N) yells from the front lawn.

“Teaching Joey how to drive.” I shrug.

“You’re teaching our six ano old how to drive?” I look at Joey in the passenger seat, grinning like mad.

“Yeah.” I answer. “It’s a life skill.”