The Front Seat Sweet Spot
There’s a small window of time when your child is legally old enough to sit in the passenger seat next to you, the sweet few years before they will be driving on their own.
Around age 12, the shift from the backseat to the front seat is one of excitement and wonderment – a whole new way to look at the world from the passenger seat of the car.
Your kid will be excited, proud, and likely never to take the backseat again unless there’s a strong reason (like another adult riding in front).
It marks a time in your relationship when you can look over, see eye level, and talk to them as if they are your best friend.
It’s kinda the most beneficial time when I can have a dedicated audience (semi) free from distraction. Yes, I will lecture him about certain things – the habits he needs to work hard to break, the expectations and challenges that he’ll face as a freshman in high school, and get some details on drama du jour with his male and female friends.
He’ll play me his favorite music which happens to be a diverse mix of hardcore rap, classic rap (Notorious BIG), Israeli Music (Omer Adam), and his all-time favorite artist right now (Drake).
He’ll educate me on his lingo: gyat, rizzing, sigma, beta, and I’ll learn how I’m so “extra”. I’ll share with him the rap of my generation – Tupac, Lil’ John, and even divulge some of my secret teen escapades, which are pretty shocking.
Most of the time we laugh and goof around, and the time together feels magical.
It can sometimes be exhausting taking my son to all his location needs and requests – school, camp, taking to friends’ houses, picking up from friends’ houses, football practice, and on and on.
But I know our time together with him sitting in the passenger seat is a sweet time to enjoy, because pretty soon he will be driving on his own and won’t need me, and chances are his presence will be scarce.
So even if I have to get in the car in my tattered PJs, I always try to accommodate his ride requests and enjoy his view from the front seat sweet spot.
