Signs, Signs, Everywhere There's Signs

I have a confession to make.

At 15 years old, I flunked the driver's permit written test.  Twice. In one day.

There I said it.  Either I'm a really bad driver or just a terrible test taker.

In my 20+ years of driving, I will say I've never been in a car on car accident, although I've hit lots of stuff like parking deck posts, a parking meter or two, and possibly driven through the front of my garage wall like the giant Kool-Aid Pitcher (although I still proclaim my innocence on this one).

So I'm going to go with the whole terrible test taker theory.

Big E's new obsession is road signs.

I almost hate pulling onto 285 (besides the obvious hell-on-earth reasons).  Every sign, every mile marker, every exit sign.  Add in the current construction signs, and the boy's head is about to explode.

MOMMY, WHAT DOES THAT SIGN MEAN?

Some of them I know.

But I have to admit, it has been a few years since I studied up on my road signs, so I make a lot of sh*t up, therefore passing down to my son the very real chance of flunking his driver's test, too.

MOMMY, WHAT DOES THAT SIGN MEAN?

Maximum speed limit of 65mph as you drive over my c-section scar?

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