I think I can count on one or two fingers the amount of times my Dad has let me drive his boat. To be fair, he has had a fair few phonecalls from me, apres accident, about his car(s)...so I completely understand.
I once drove Coto-Pack-Sea some of the way to Rose (there are photos to prove it) but I have never had the pleasure of captaining Easy Rider.
Not so my 3-and-three-quarter year old daughter. One trip home from Rose, Maia expressed a desire to sit at the back with Papi. Then, she asked to sit on his lap. Then she wanted to steer the boat...
Then she wanted to do it on her own. So Papi sat her down, eased the throttle back to a slow crawl, and let her have the wheel.
Working out the Stick That Made The Boat Go needed to be forward to get The Fast, Maia punched the throttle forward, grabbed the wheel, and we were flying. On her own! Dad was, of course, within easy reach of everything. The payoff - the look on Maia's face - was wondrous.
Although, this was the same day I found out that Noona had fed Maia some chocolate as a treat after breakfast!
It got me thinking, anyway.... I used to be fed wheatgerm for breakfast. Kids were firmly banished to the front of the boat to take on ropes and fender duty.
And while I wouldn't change my parents for all the T in Tiffany, there is something about being a grandparent that certainly agrees with them both.
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