Hailey is about to become our seventh driver.

Seven.

At this point the state should probably just issue our family its own traffic department. Maybe a fleet license. Possibly a small stoplight for the end of the driveway.

I remember the first time one of my kids drove away from the house.

That mix of pride and absolute terror is hard to explain unless you’ve lived it.

You spend years driving them everywhere.

School.

Practices.

Stores.

Doctor appointments.

Birthday parties.

Last-minute poster board runs at 9:47 p.m. because someone forgot a project due the next morning.

Your car becomes a rolling snack station, laundry basket, emotional support booth, and occasionally a referee ring for backseat sibling arguments.

And then one day…

They grab the keys.

They buckle their own seatbelt.

They check the mirrors like you drilled into them a thousand times.

And they back out of the driveway.

By themselves.

No car seat.

No booster seat.

No “Mom, can you turn up the music?”

Just the sound of the engine fading down the street.

The driveway suddenly feels bigger.

And quieter.

You stand there a second longer than you meant to.

Not because you’re worried. (Okay… maybe a little.)

But because you realize something strange.

You’ve spent so many years being their driver…

that you didn’t notice you were also slowly teaching them how to leave.

Seven drivers.

Seven times we’ve handed over the keys.

Seven times watching a kid who once needed help tying their shoes pull away from the house like they’ve been doing it forever.

I remember when some of these kids couldn’t even reach the door handles.

Now they’re parallel parking.

Somewhere in between spilled juice boxes, soccer cleats, band practices, and late-night milkshake runs… they grew up.

And every time one of them drives away for the first time, I feel the same two things at once.

Pride.

And that tiny ache that comes with realizing another piece of childhood just drove off down the street.

Seven drivers.

Seven little reminders that time moves faster than we ever think it will.

And when Hailey pulls out of the driveway for the first time on her own…

I’ll probably stand there again.

Watching the car disappear down the road.

Smiling.

And whispering the same prayer every mom does.

“Please drive safe.”

Because no matter how old they get…

they’ll always be the kids I used to drive everywhere.