permission slip.

I was the only kid in my family that got a car when she turned sixteen. Before you start thinking that I was spoiled, let me tell you that it was a seven-year-old station wagon that had 170,000 miles on it. Two weeks prior to my birthday, my dad had been driving it when someone pulled out in front of him, and he swerved and took out a row of mailboxes. As a result of this, if you opened the back passenger side door, it would sort of hang at an angle off its hinge, and you would have to lift it to close it back. My parents saw no reason to get that fixed. My siblings would still call me spoiled.

The first day I drove to school on my own, I felt like I was about to accept the Nobel Prize, maybe in the category of Living to Be Sixteen and Getting Wheels. I cannot say for sure what I look like when I swagger, but I'm pretty sure that I was doing it as I walked from my very own parking space to the entrance. But I wanted to be cool about it, so I didn't gush to anyone about how that totally bitchin' station wagon in the parking lot was mine.

I had been in the building for about five minutes when my name was called over the intercom, announcing that I had left my lights on. That put an end to my swaggering.

That station wagon is long gone now, but I was thinking of that day this week when I was on the phone with the guy who was handling the loan for my new house. I had already sent him tons of paperwork - W-2s, paystubs, a copy of my drivers license, bank statements. But he called me up to ask me about the extra name attached to my bank account. I explained that it was my mom. I have had those accounts since I was about nine, and the bank does not let nine-year-olds swagger on up to the counter and open up an account; they have to have their parent's name on there, too. The loan guy said that he figured it was something like that, and that was perfectly okay, but could he possibly get a letter from my mom that said I had access to these accounts?

So just in case I was thinking of doing any swaggering as I walked into the door of my new house next week, I'll just remember that I had to have a note from my mom to buy it.