You know when you’re innocently talking to a child and they open a whole new avenue from where you were planning on going with the conversation? I related it to America’s road system.

Sometimes it’s a simple cul-de-sac. The conversation goes round and round. Other times, it takes a “merging on to the highway” warp-speed jump from innocent to “hold me tightly, I need a moment.” This recent talk with one of my sons about where babies come from combines the two types of streets.

We were on a Georgia highway. My son was talking about some of his friends who were going to or had just returned from Walt Disney World. I reminded him he was there three years ago, but that carried very little street cred to a 5-year-old.

I tried steering the conversation another way.

“You know, Daddy used to work at Walt Disney World,” I said.

“Was Mommy a baby back then?”

For the record, I am older than my wife, but it is nowhere near that kind of age difference.

“No, that was before I met Mommy,” I said.

“Was I a baby then?”

“No …”

“Was Charlie a baby then?”

“No … he …”

“Daddy, where do babies come from,” said the 5-year-old who had just been talking about Mickey Mouse and Goofy.

“Well, when a mommy and daddy love each other very much they’ll have a baby. It’s important to have that because …,” I started to say before he cut me off.

“No, I mean how are they made?”

Is it time for the ‘birds and bees talk’ already?

Well, here is where our ever-expanding cul-de-sac of a conversation veered onto an on-ramp and started to rev up. My son is very detail-oriented, always wanting to know “why” and “how” things happen. I knew what he meant and thought for a moment about how to respond.

“It’s like chemistry,” I clumsily started. “Daddies have a special chemical that they combine with chemicals that mommies have — and that is what makes a baby.” As you can see, my initial foray into sex education went over swimmingly.

Right after I said that last word I knew it sounded odd and inauthentic. In my mind, I thought about telling him about how willies work with girls’ private parts, the pregnancy, doula, placenta, birth canal and epidural. But I was tired, driving and frustrated with myself for stumbling over the initial answer.

I need an off-ramp from this conversation and the closest thing was a golf range.

“Cool, check out that golf range,” I said.

“Daddy, we’ve seen that before. It’s right next to the video game place,” he said with all of the smarm and know-it-all-ness a 5-year-old could muster.

Then he went on to talk about something else.

That topic escapes me. I know that it wasn’t about reproduction. Since that trip, my wife and I have sorted out what he should call his private parts and we planned a basic overview of how to address the “where do babies come from” talk. I certainly didn’t expect to start this conversation when he was 5, though.

A friend of mine had their 6-year-old ask them what sodomy was. He was listening to the news and the child heard a new word he didn’t know. I guess my wife and I should prepare talking points for that possible query another time.

+ + +

A version of Where Babies Come From first appeared on Daddy Mojo and then on this blog in 2015. It has since been updated. Photo: ©New Africa / Adobe Stock.

This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

While stuck in typical Los Angeles traffic the other day, I wondered if my kids would ever learn to drive.

Then I thought, “Maybe I should ask, ‘Will my kids ever need to drive?'”

I know several people who never learned to drive and will never need to. In certain cities, such as New York with its extensive mass transportation system, it’s not a big deal. In other cities, such as my Los Angeles, it is absolutely necessary (as the song goes, nobody walks in L.A.). But technology has been advancing at such a rapid pace that in 10 years instead of getting a driver’s license or having a casual conversation with the Uber or Lyft driver, my boys will probably call an automated car through an AI device installed in everyone’s house. If they ever own a car, it will probably be self-driving.

This past summer, a group of us dads spent some time at a friend’s cabin. We all had different technology with us — smartphones, laptops, gaming consoles and more — and it became a game exchanging and playing with new equipment. Then our host said something I find myself thinking about a lot.

“Do you remember who was at your sixth birthday party?” he asked,

I replied, “No way, that was like 40 years ago!”

“Any pictures from any of your birthdays?” he asked.

“A few I suppose.”

He put his virtual reality (VR) goggles on me and said, “This is how our kids are going to remember their birthdays.”

There it was – his 6-year-old daughter’s birthday party in full immersive virtual reality.

What will technology be like in another 40 years, I constantly wonder. What about in another 20 years … even another five?

My kids will have plenty of pictures and videos from their childhood, thanks to our ever-present smartphones. I wonder what their own kids will say about being able to experience, not just hear about, those days and years before they were born. The sheer difference is mind-boggling.

But at what point does technology surpass science fiction and imagination, consuming all our time and focus? Or has that happened already?

Since one of the things I dislike most is driving, I am fascinated by all these new options for getting around. Technology is where dreams can arise from. But it’s also where nightmares can come from. I am both excited and scared for my kids’ future.

Regardless of what comes, I still believe driving a stick shift is a good life skill so I’ll be imparting my old-school ways on them.

I can just hear me now, “In my day …”.

+ + +

This blog post, which first ran on our L.A. Dads Group blog in 2017 and has since been updated, is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

Photo by Pixabay via Pexels.

My first car was a gray Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera. It featured no air conditioning and broken power steering. It offered only the last gasps of its life, thanks to having been previously driven by my dad and my older brother.

Call it what you like. A “junker.” A “clunker.” A “jalopy.” Predictably, it lasted only a week for me.

I had not thought of that first car until the wound was ripped back open as I car-shopped with our household’s first teen driver – my son, Yosef. 

Some piece of the family savings will be invested into a vehicle for Yosef. I do not, though, know if I should be buying a “junker” or more reliable car. 

Weighing the options

A few aspects of this choice weigh on me.

First, I plan to have Yosef help us with family logistics in a very limited capacity. In emergencies, for example, he’ll be asked to pick up his other siblings from practice or school.

Second, Yosef is growing up in a much bigger pond than I did. Drivers are crazier. Cars are everywhere. Also, he will be traveling virtually no two-lane streets to get to his regular destinations. Offsetting my worry is that most of Yosef’s activities are located a walkable distance from our home.

My son’s safety – the safety of any child – is a parent’s top priority. To me, buying a clunker is just fine if we have faith in it providing adequate safety. Please parents, do not fall into the trap of “safety shaming” others with kids driving old cars. Assuming the doors are not coming off in transit, the only safety issue we may run into is changing a tire roadside (or calling us from the driver’s seat to ask us to). 

Something is alluring about providing our kids with substandard quality, though. Maybe this is the “old man” coming out, but isn’t ushering a junkie car to its grave a rite of passage for teens? It is good for young people to deal with over-heating just as they will about door dings, or that musty smell from generations of wear and tear. 

Additionally, a new driver should be grateful for any car – even a piece of junk — right?  My son’s track record of taking care of items, like most teens, is not spectacular, which also weighs on me.

Creating a first-car partnership

With the decision now imminent that we will be providing a vehicle to Yosef, finding the right formula of safety and accountability lands on me. 

We had discussed purchasing a vehicle as 50/50 partners with Yosef – matching each dollar he saved. While that is fair, this relinquishes some control for us and accountability for Yosef. With busy family lives, we cannot devote the energy to being true partners our kids’ choices while driving, or have equal say in the rules before, during and after a trip.

After noodling on this for far too long, the solution we have arrived at is:

• we buy and own the vehicle
• Yosef pays a “security deposit” to us. He gets it back if the car’s condition is maintained; it’s lost if it is not.

This arrangement allows for our direct control of the vehicle. That stops Yosef from treating it like his bedroom – a messy, stinky disaster. 

As with most big parenting decisions, time will tell if this solution works. Right now, though, I remain at home with the sinking feeling.  No security deposit, no fancy new car, and certainly no smiling 16-year-old looking at us as he waves goodbye through a windshield will provide an adequate remedy.   

I will have provided in the best way I know how. 

That is all I can do.    

Until I shift my focus and call my car insurance provider for a quote. 

Tips on your child’s first car

Whether new or used, Consumer Reports recommends these safety features at a minimum for a teen driver’s first car:

• Antilock brake system (ABS)
• Electronic stability control (ESC)
• Head-protecting side airbags
• Backup camera

Parents should also check the car’s crash-test scores from Insurance Institute for Highway Safety (IIHS) and National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA).

CarFax recommends looking at cars with Apple CarPlay or Android Auto smartphone app integration, either wireless or via a USB plug, as those can help keep teen drivers from picking up their phones while driving.

Photo: ©DragonImages / Adobe Stock.

“No left foot!”

I screamed as the minivan slammed to a stop.

Deep breath, I told myself, and faced my son. Yosef’s bright, toothy smile kept hidden the fear and uncertainty evidenced by his death-grip on the minivan’s steering wheel.

“Sorry for yelling, man. I’m just a bit nervous – like you,” I chuckled and continued. “Let’s start from the beginning before we go any farther.”

I’m teaching driving to my son. Only a few days before this abrupt stop in a parking lot of a local church, Yosef had passed his written driving exam and, at least by local standards, was ready to get behind the wheel. In this moment, and as he posed for the picture with the plastic encased learner’s permit, I faced a haunting realization that my son is becoming a grown up.

To distract myself from the epiphany of being old enough to have a child behind the wheel, I dove deep into teaching driving to my son. I quickly learned, though, I had taken a lot for granted.

Teaching driving lesson No. 1: Right foot only

Driving may be the only activity reserved exclusively for right-footed people. My son, though, is a leftie. I shouldn’t have been surprised when he eased off the brake with his dominant foot while depressing the accelerator with his right.

How does a kid NOT know to drive with the right foot only?

Take note – they have no idea about the kinetics of driving.

Lesson No. 2: Heed the mirrors

Mirrors, like the folded paper maps of road trips past, have become meaningless to today’s kids.

If they want to check out the back of their hair, they take a picture on their phone. During our practice session, when I asked Yosef to check the van’s driver’s side, he stuck his head out of the window – Ace Ventura style.

Checking mirrors eventually becomes subconscious to drivers. I can assure you; their importance will need to be immediately conveyed to your children when they get behind the wheel because, to them, mirrors are useless.

Lesson No. 3: Old school driving vs. modern technology

Our minivan is equipped with some standard technology that make many old-school driving techniques obsolete. Our kids don’t necessarily need to put their right arm behind the passenger seat, rotate their upper body clockwise and look out the rear window to back up – the rear camera will do that for them.

So, as a parent and my son’s first driver’s ed teacher, I am left wondering if looking behind the vehicle by turning your head is mandatory for a new driver anymore. It feels a bit like teaching cursive handwriting – I feel like I should, with virtually no justification, just because that’s how I learned to do it.

I’ve decided to teach him via the “old school” method while using technology as a backup. I can decide if that is an appropriate choice.

Lesson No. 4: The art of the turn

Turning seems to throw Yosef – and I gather, for good reason. I turn mindlessly now, but, when I was learning, I recall thinking that rounding corners required finesse that I had no preparation for.

Think about it: turning should be done slowly, calmly, looking in the direction you’re going after assessing what is surrounding the vehicle. The series of actions to execute a turn seems unnatural. Further, the other, more subtle aspect of turning a vehicle is coming out a turn by allowing the force of the tires to glide the wheel through your hands – another unnatural feeling to first-time drivers.

As Yosef veered around his first parking lot curve, we jerked side-to-side as his locked fingers steered hard left, then back straight, to hard left again – just like the go-carts we’d driven together at his eighth birthday party.

“Take it easy, big man,” I nervously quipped.

Turning will certainly require more lessons.

Lesson No. 5: Watch your blind spot

Our minivan circling the church parking lot caught the eye of an older gentlemen carting bottled water into the sanctuary. Noticing his stare, I had Yosef come to a stop (yes, an abrupt one) next to his red truck.

I smiled and nodded, “Hello! My son is learning to drive. I hope this is OK?”

“Of course!” The man’s voice was warm. “This place is a perfect test track. You’re doing great, son.”

“Thanks! Have a good day.”

Yosef began pulling away (yes, too quickly). As he did, the older man brushed my forearm, saying, “Watch your blind spot.”

I nodded, then suddenly I was lost in thinking of my dad. I remember him saying the same phrase to me, teaching me to drive a stick shift in the parking lot of Kennedy High School in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. As I shifted his Ford Escort Pony into first gear my dad told me, “Toby, watch your blind spot.”

As Yosef applied the brakes (a bit more smoothly this time) and slid the minivan into park, today’s first driving lesson was over.

I felt old.

I was exhausted.

I thought of my dad teaching driving skills to me. On the way home, I called him. I had to.

“Dad, Yosef drove the van today,” I said.

“Man, how can that be?” I imagine my dad feeling older now, too.

“Yeah, I told him to watch his blind spot.”

Dad seemed reflective, saying, “Well, that’s good advice.”

It was.

Teaching Driving blind spot photo: © Natallia / Adobe Stock.

“You have to trust the other drivers,” my father said gently.

With those words, my fingers loosened on the wheel, my shoulders relaxed, and my eyes refocused on the right side of the road.

I was 16 and about to take a driver’s ed class, but my father and I thought it might help to practice beforehand. (My mother wanted no part of it.) For many teens, it would have been time to cue the father-son tension. But my father had always been laid-back and hands-off, so I did not dread driving with him.

Even though this was his sixth time teaching driving to a nervous teenager (I am the youngest of our large brood), he was still filled with patience as he sat there in the passenger seat. Or maybe my older siblings had already run over his last nerve. His calmness is even more remarkable to me now, as I have just two children but often reach for my white flag of surrender.

To my surprise, what first troubled me as a new driver was the sight of oncoming cars in the left lane. How could I be sure they weren’t going to cross the yellow line and kill us instantly? Sensing my concern, my father uttered his simple words about trust.

It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment how much the world runs on trust — e.g., that people will act responsibly, that our hearts won’t stop beating, that buildings won’t collapse, and that the sun will rise and set, among other so-called certainties. In fact, without a basic faith in the workings of the universe, how could we even get out of bed every morning?

Trust the universe, yourself

My father’s constant ability to trust the universe was modeled in many other ways. For example, whenever my siblings or I were sick, he would place his hands on our foreheads and quietly talk about how some cultures believe we have “healing power” if we think positive thoughts as we lay hands upon an ailing body. (In the meantime, our mother gave us medicine.) As you might expect, my siblings and I would sometimes snicker at “the healing power,” but we all secretly savored the feeling of being loved in such a palpable way.

Similar to the healing power technique, my father would often extol the benefits of creative visualization to calm one’s nerves. If we were fretting about getting a large homework project finished, he would say: “Visualize in great detail the moment of handing the project in to your teacher.” The theory is that by visualizing success, you help bring it into being. (I realize now it was also my parents’ way of saying “you can do it, and we’re not going to do it for you.”)

I can’t guarantee the visualization method works, but I always seemed to get those projects done while feeling supported in the process. It has also given me a tool to use when my own children are struggling with a school deadline.

Granted, as adults we know the world often falls short of our trusting expectations. Some illnesses don’t heal, some work goes undone, and certainly some drivers prove to be untrustworthy. Indeed, my driver’s ed instructor taught “defensive driving” and emphasized the opposite of my father’s advice about trust. And that was long before road rage had a name and hyped-up media coverage. (I should add that my mother’s mantra for driving was “everybody’s crazy, drive safely.”)

Looking back, however, I believe my father’s repeated emphasis on invisible phenomena like trust, healing and visualization had a cumulative effect on my mental and emotional health as I grew up. In a sense, he helped me build a world of trust, to swim in a sea of faith. As I parent my own children, I strive for my family to swim in the same waters. Especially when it’s my turn to help my daughter with her driver’s ed practice.