A rite of passage

I had an interesting people-watching experience this afternoon.
I went with my youngest niece, Caitlin, to get her driver's licence. If I remember correctly, she had her G1, now has her G2, and has a year to get her full-fledged G licence. Way back when I borrowed my Dad's Flintstone car to try my licence, we had the beginner's and then the driver's licence -- none of this graduated stuff.
Anyway, it was interesting to watch the young people come, Mom or Dad (or Uncle Bob) in tow. The anticipation and nerves were palpable in the young people; the pride and melancholy in the parents. Another fledgling getting closer to leaving the nest, learning to fly on their own, moving towards total independence from Mama and Papa Bird.
The only one I saw come back from a road test was Cait. She was smiling ear-to-ear, telling me she passed. A couple of the parents looked my way and smiled.
Cait was especially happy, because this was road test number three. I think she passed this time, because instead of having her older sister with her, she had her good luck charm -- me!
Of course, by the time she had walked around the building from where she had parked the car at the end of the test, she had already called her Mom to share the good news.
Way to go, Cait.