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The moment the baby is born, the clock begins ticking. Your reasons for bringing the wrinkly bundle of joy into the world had to do with intangibles like legacy, heritage and tradition. Your child's reason for coming into the world was to spend your inheritance and worry you into the grave. And nothing says worry like a shiny new driver's permit.

After trying for years to get your child to smile nicely for school and family portraits, finally your teen flashes the perfect smile. Only instead of the picture being an 8 x 10 glossy suitable for a place on the mantle, it is a 1 x 1 mug shot taken by the tester at the DMV.

Maybe you just got home from a long, stressful day at the office. Maybe you have piles of laundry and dishes calling your name. Maybe a younger sibling has a parent-teacher conference at school, after which you have four more errands to run. None of that matters to the newly driver-permitted teen. All he wants is for you to hand him the car keys and buckle yourself into the passenger seat.

It is the moment you've dreaded since the day he was born -- your baby behind the wheel of the family vehicle. It is a surreal moment for all parents. There are car seats still stashed in the attic. Didn't he JUST reach the age and height recommended for sitting in an airbag equipped passenger seat?

You begin praying more -- not only for him, but for all passengers, including yourself, while he is behind the wheel. You call upon your brain power to will the traffic to be light and the weather mild. Then you take a deep breath and hand him the keys.

A few miles down the road, while stopped at a traffic light, your child looks at you and, in consideration of your blue complexion, suggests that you breathe. As you squeeze the arm rests until your knuckles turn white while sucking in more air, your child calmly questions, "What are you doing, Mom?"

You force yourself to breathe again and answer, "I was trying to keep the car from dropping into that gully we just drove past."

After a few miles, you realize that the driver's education training, including the on-the-road work, paid off. He uses his signal. He obeys the speed limit -- for the most part. He pays attention to the road. He defensively anticipates hazards -- including the poor decisions of other drivers on the road.

While your heart is still in your throat, your breathing begins to return to normal. You've made it to the post office and are ready to head back home. That's when he suggests, "Can we go to Jay's house?" He wants to show off his driving abilities in front of one of his best friends.

At first, you think of the housework, including dinner preparation, waiting at home. Then you remember that Jay's parents are going through the exact same thing. Jay hasn't had his permit for long. Chatting with parents who know what you are going through sounds like a great idea. "OK, we can swing by his house, but we can't stay long."

Another big smile from a teen who has barely grunted in the presence of his parents since middle school. You brace yourself for the ride. As you travel down the road, your child at the wheel and in control, the two of you begin to talk. You discuss other opportunities for him to drive. You hear about his friends and what they've been up to. You chat about school.

Ever attentive to the road and the situation, you sprinkle the conversation with driving tips. You reminisce about when your parents taught you to drive. You promise your child that you probably won't scream or grab the wheel, unless absolutely necessary, of course.

When you arrive, you are greeted with support from Jay's parents. They've been there, done that. They keep you engaged in conversation long enough for your blood pressure to return to normal. You make a mental note -- we REALLY like Jay and his family. We should get together more often.

After hopping back into the passenger seat -- something that always feels awkward to a parent, no matter how well the child drives or how old he gets -- you take another deep breath and realize that everything is going to be OK.

Upon arriving safely home, you are greeted by the younger siblings who want details of their new hero -- the older brother with a driver's permit. How did he do? Did he wreck? Can they ride along, too?

At that moment, all the calm you acquired while commiserating with Jay's parents dissipates as you think, "I've got to go through this two more times?" Then you head to the bedroom, plop down on the bed and ask your hubby to order a couple of pizzas.

Micki Bare is a columnist for the Arkansas News Bureau and the Courier-Tribune in Asheboro, N.C., and author of the book, "Relative Expressions." She lives in Asheboro with her husband and three children. Her e-mail address is mickibare@inspiredscribe.com.