About Distracted Daddy
Distracted Daddy is a working father with a two-year-old daughter, a focused wife and a flatulent pug. When he’s not distracted he blogs about poop, parenting and other things at distracteddaddy.com.
Toddler or Speed Demon?
the fatherlode: little backseat driver canada
(Jan.12.12)
Lately when I step behind the wheel of our car, I hear a tiny little voice questioning my every driving decision. It’s a tiny toddler voice.
My two and a half year daughter is a backseat driver.
Now that she has a forward-facing car seat, she can keep her eyes on the road. At first she observed and listened as we pointed out landmarks or trains. Then she began to understand the stop-and-go flow of traffic.
Her car seat used to be rear-facing. Those were simpler days. She would sleep for hours on end. She would quietly watch the scenery pass by. She would never question my choice of lane.
Her first comment came as we waited for a red light to change. From the backseat she chimed, “Daddy you can go.” I could, if I wanted to rear-end the car in front of me. My wife and I have since tried to explain traffic lights to her. Green means go. Red means stop. She sort of gets it. But if she sees a green light, she still tells me to go. Even if it’s not my green.
She’s the toddler equivalent of the jerk who honks two-seconds after the light’s turned green.
“Daddy, you can go. Daddy, you can go.”
Her backseat driving isn’t limited to letting me know when the light has changed. No. She has road preferences and will say things like ‘No, not this road’ or “Don’t go this way.” She’s a regular GPS unit in diapers.
Why should I trust her driving advice?
She doesn’t have a license. I’ve seen her drive her riding toys around the house. She goes full speed ahead, crashing straight into walls or shins. She takes hairpin turns and falls off her “car”. She’s a reckless driver. She’s no Mario Andretti.
In the car, she gets impatient when the lights change. She wants me to drive through other cars. She hates gridlock. She wants to get where she’s going. She gets angry. She has toddler road rage.
Sometimes she is also considerate. Often when we pass gas stations, she’ll comment, “You need gas, Daddy?”
Turns out she also has a need – a need for speed. “Go fast, daddy,” is a regularly call from the back. Daddy is not Vin Diesel. The drive is going to be neither fast nor furious. Thankfully going a click or two faster is usually enough to suffice. I’ve yet to be pulled over for toddler-induced speeding. Or toddler-induced red light running. Or toddler-induced illegal left-turning.
I’ve ignored most of my daughter’s driving advice. As I’m sure she’ll ignore most of mine, when she’s behind the wheel and I’m in the backseat telling her what to do.
Thought that was sweet? You’ll enjoy: