Dispatches from the Frontlines of Fatherhood: Backseat Drivers

We were on our way home, Kat and I.  When we took a left onto the bridge, a guy in a truck, who had been waiting to turn right, inexplicably turned in front of us.  After narrowly missing him — I swerved and he braked at the last second — I cursed at him and shook my fists and did all the regular things you do when you feel wronged as a driver.  We drove on, my heart pounding, and I’d almost forgotten about my five-year-old daughter in the back seat until she suddenly piped up.

“And that’s why you wear seat belts!” she said.