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

“Steven Randel, what do wewe 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 mwaka old how to drive?” I look at Joey in the passenger seat, grinning like mad.

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