Mom's Taxi on the Loose

My 7th Grader Passenger Spices up our Morning Travels

Some mornings, I am a Mom’s Taxi with two lively passengers. Sasha is the regular sharp-witted, singing companion and then there’s my nephew, Reagan, my 7th grader casual client. When Sasha and I have extra time to spare, we would decide to rock up unannounced at my sister’s. This is when the fun begins.

Left to Right: Riko, Sasha and Reagan - check his glasses!
As soon as we arrive at Reagan’s home, I honk a few times, just to get the adrenalin pumping. On cue, the front door opens - the Johnson’s way of acknowledging our presence. We can see frantic shadows darting across the passage. We hoot again for effect. This time, Canyon, the pony-sized Boerboel, starts pacing up and down, from the gate to the front door, barking irritably. Then we hear my usually calm brother-in-law’s raised voice: “Rea-gunn”. Mission accomplished – we have disturbed their equilibrium and we laugh at our own silliness.

The main source of our antics, Reagan, is non-plussed by all the drama unfolding. He comes racing down the pathway, tumbles into the car and closes the door. His morning greeting becomes enmeshed in the rush to put on his shoes and to re-arrange the lopsided badges on his school shirt. Once all the uniform pieces are in place and the school bag is properly strapped, Reagan is ready to talk.
Clockwise: Christo, Reagan, Brandon and Riko

As expected, our 15-minute journey now belongs to my nephew. Reagan will regale us with a patchwork of stories. Commentary on Man United’s bad luck becomes entangled in his long dream about Cousin Sasha and high school. While we make appreciative noises, Reagan has already switched to a moan about all the school projects he has, his new soccer boots and the teacher he no longer likes such a lot.

Too soon we arrive at Reagan’s school. With the same ease, he hops out of the car and disappears behind the school gates. Sasha and I continue our journey to her school just a few blocks away, chatting about tidbits of Reagan’s tales. 

Father Xmas aka Reagan and Mother Xmas aka me with Sasha ,
 Oxy Drummer, Christo, Basil and  Brett.  
As I eventually drive off to work, I can still feel Reagan’s energy and wonderment hanging in the car. I think Reagan has already mastered the art of living fully. He knows how to minimize the ebbs and maximize the flows of life. This is  the reason I choose to surprise my 7th grader nephew with a lift to school: he shares amazing wisdom unknowingly.


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