Saturday Drive

A couple of weeks ago, I made the mistake of letting Lyndon "drive" around the storage facility after we dropped off a load of "clutter" in an effort to make our house look more appealing to potential buyers. He was so excited that he got to drive like a big boy that he came home and told mommy all about it. Sounds pretty cute huh?

Well, I've created a monster.

There's nothing cute about him telling me twenty times every time I get in the car with him that "it's my turn to drive Daddy"! and then sulking when I don't let him drive us to the store.

Last Saturday, Karen and I were out shopping for an apartment to live in after we close on our house next month, and Lyndon behaved exceptionally well the entire time. As a reward, I let him drive around one of the apartment complexes. He was on cloud nine.

I knew it wasn't going to be easy getting him out of the driver seat, so I told him "okay Lyndon, once we get back to the swimming pool, it's my turn to drive." That worked really well. When we got back around to the swimming pool, we pulled over and put him back in his car seat. What we didn't expect was what happened next. As we pulled out of the parking lot of the apartment complex, a little voice from the back seat said, "when we get back to the swimming pool, it's my turn to drive. Okay Daddy"? After a good laugh, I said "okay." Needless to say, we never made it back to the swimming pool.