When Natalie is riding in Don’s car, they listen to the radio.
“Turn it up, baby!” Nat calls from the back seat.
When I’m driving, it’s a different story. No music allowed. After all, it might interfere with Natalie’s back seat driving.
“Go!”
“Why did you slow down?”
“Come on… green light! Green light! Green light!”
“We aren’t in a hurry,” I say. “Relax.”
“I hate waiting!” Nat responds.
“Look at a book. That will make the time go faster,” I try. And, it will keep your eyes off the traffic signals, I think to myself.
“No!” she says. “Just GO!”
These thoughts go through my head:
What will she be like as a teenage driver? Scary!
Will you please just SHUT UP and let me drive?!
And, finally — geez, it must be awful to feel so pressured all of the time. Poor kid.
I’d never really thought about what it must feel like to live in Natalie’s skin, her ADHD brain always in high gear.
Think about it.
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