And then I wondered, did I just lose all credit for driving?

Tell me I’m still a good mother.

Today I drove my almost 12-year-old son and his three friends to another friend’s house for a get-together. It was a 45-minute trip.

He’d asked me two nights ago if he could go to Chanoch’s house, and I said sure, cuz I’m nice like that. Then he reminded me that Chanoch doesn’t live in Passaic, and he commutes to yeshivah every day. I really wanted to take back that yes, but I’d already given it. And my love of inertia didn’t feel reason enough to wipe the smile off my son’s face.

The next day he asked me to buy marshmallows for the get-together. That I was fine with, it was just a matter of remembering. My memory for grocery items is notoriously poor. I’ve raided my Shabbos candy stash far too many times, praying I’d find enough of the same nosh to send in for a siyum.

That night, while on the phone with Chanoch, my son asked me if I could carpool and drive everyone there. Someone else already offered to take the way home.

I think I smiled, I definitely said yes. But you know what I was really thinking: Why do I always draw the short straw?