My daughter can now drive and that’s a two-way street

My 16-year-old daughter rolled down the window before she pulled away.

“Goodbye kids,” she said sweetly. “Have fun and be on your best behaviour ...”

And then she drove off, leaving my wife and I standing on the curb outside the restaurant. We looked at each other.

“What just happened?” my wife asked. “I’m not sure,” I said. “But let’s

both go get a drink.” And then we laughed, like the truly free.

Last week, Ontario deemed my first-born child fit for the road, unsupervised and with virtually no restrictions. Well, the for-profit company enlisted by the government to turn road testing into an extremely disorganized, wildly frustrating and interminable process is actually the one responsible for the decision but hey, they have nice matching blue shirts.

This, like all things involving children, is something of a doubleedged sword. Babies are cute, sure, but they spray body fluids in a rather indiscriminate manner. Toddlers can be delightful except in situations when you really need them to be. Tweens are ... OK, tweens are largely without merit unless you appreciate being told to bugger off on regular basis.

A teenager who can drive has clear pros and some definite cons, however. On the downside, there’s the additional expense — I’m already getting shaken down for “gas money” — not to mention the worry of having your child on the road surrounded by nitwits. I’ve seen you people drive and it’s both scary and infuriating; I fear for her safety even more than usual.

Also, my car is no longer my own. My wife’s auto features standard transmission — something my daughter has yet to master because there aren’t enough antinausea drugs in the world to get me through that process. So my wheels are now a time-share, the driver’s seat constantly out of position, the mirrors in the wrong place and hair elastics scattered everywhere. I tried one in my beard: not a great look.

But there are definite pluses, starting with her new and permanent role as the family’s designated driver and regular chauffeur. Mom and Dad want to celebrate their anniversary, as we did this weekend? Time to call the Kid Car Shuttle. Little sister needs a ride to dance class? That’s what big sisters are for.

At this point, my kid seems perfectly happy to fill these roles. Driving is still a novelty and she knows from experience that her parents are quid-pro-quo people: borrowing the car is most definitely going to be a two-way street. But like vomit from a baby, the complaining is coming — whether you want it or not.

It was, however, a lovely dinner. My wife and I split a bottle of wine, had some laughs then called the chauffeur for pickup. She arrived promptly and in good humour. It seemed like one of those perfect parenting moments until she ruined it, as kids are wont to do.

“Dad, can I borrow the car tomorrow?”