“Okay Tyler! You Win! You can drive!” I relented in frustration. I couldn’t believe how quickly things had escalated. Within moments we’d gone from the adorable cuteness of a three-year old’s giggles, to a horrifying tantrum, and I was waving the flag of defeat. Or was I?

The twins were 4 and Tyler had just turned 3. We were vising my brother in Montana. It was one of our family’s favorite get away’s. We’d visit with Uncle Mat, catch fish, and explore wild places on ATV’s.

Only a few moments earlier I’d swung open the heavy wooden doors of the big barn. The kids were so excited they screamed and giggled with joy as they ran inside, each jumping onto the 4-wheeler of their choice. Tyler picked the biggest machine of all, which happened to be Uncle Mat’s. He was so cute, the way his little arms barely reached the handlebars and how his little feet dangled off the gas tank. But it was the way his little cheeks bulged and jiggled when he made the BBBRRR noise of the engine that almost broke the cuteness meter.

It was truly adorable, until Uncle Mat had finished the morning chores and entered the barn. “Let’s go,” he said with a smile heading to his machine. I jumped on with Rex and Nora with Carly. Now, Mat was a big and powerful man, yet Tyler stopped him dead in his tracks when out of his little body came powerful, “NO! this is mine! I’m driving this one!” I was startled, Nora was shocked, and Mat was stunned. The authority Tyler assumed from his perch on the four-wheeler was a thing of awe, and stopped us all.

I was first to gather my wits and replied with a laugh, “Haha… Come on Ty, Mat’s jumping on with you.” “NOOOO! … I’m driving this one, by myself!” he said with a commanding a pitch. It would have been funny, but he was so serious.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Mat took a step forward to get on the machine, and again Tyler let out a loud and powerful, “NNNNOOOOO!” So loud and so powerful it not only stopped Mat but pushed back a step or two. As he retreated the volume of Tyler’s “No” dropped. So, Matt stepped forward and the volume rose, pushing Mat back again, which caused the volume to drop. This cycle repeated, again, and again. It was like a siren; except he was crying. I called it a “cry-ren”. Mat neared the machine and the volume of the cry-ren rose, he’d step back, and the volume fell. NNNNOOOOO….oooooooooo… OOOOOOOOO… ooooooooo… It was very impressive to say the least!

This was very unusual for Tyler. I’d only seen him pitch one other temper tantrum before. He was demanding a Sqeezie at the grocery store and didn’t like my response. You know Squeezies, those little plastic bottles of punch where you rip the top off and squeeze the punch out. Yeah, he dropped to the floor in the middle of the store to pitch a fit thinking that would change my mind. I just left him there, he came running not long after I rounded the first corner. But there were no corners to round there in the barn, that was Mat’s machine and he needed it.

Then it hit me, and I heard myself say, “Okay Tyler! You Win! You can drive! That will be your four-wheeler!” “YESSS!” he exclaimed doing a victory jig sprinkled with a bit of, “I told you so.” It would have made me grumpy if it wasn’t so cute. I continued, “Are you ok if I give you a driving lesson before we head out? Because, well, you’re going to need to know a few things… ”

“Okay,” he said.

I continued, “I think you get the idea; these are the handlebars, you use them to steer. If you want to go that way, just point them that way. If you want to go that way, just point them there. Got it?”

“Yes,” he smiled.

“Okay, to go forward, you’ll have to put it in gear, so push down on that pedal right there.” I said pointing to the pedal 6 inches below his dangling foot. That was the moment his little body froze and the wheels in his head spun into motion. He couldn’t hide his emotions, I read his face as he worked through what ha just happened. He went from, “Oh no! What have I done?” To, “I probably shouldn’t have pitched that fit.” To, “how am I going to get out of this?” Well, I can’t lie, I relished that moment and almost did a little victory jig of my own. But then remembered, I’m raising a person, and there’s no victory shaming a child.

After letting him squirm a bit I finally broke the silence with, “Oh No! Your feet don’t reach.”

“I know,” he replied sheepishly.

“I have an idea,” I said in my happiest and most encouraging voice. “How about if you work the handlebars and see if you can get Uncle Mat to work the peddles?” “Yeah!” he exclaimed as his eyes lit up with excitement. “But you’ll have to ask Uncle Mat if he’ll help. And ask nicely,” I added.

“Yeah!!! That’s a great idea” he exclaimed! “Hey Uncle Mat, “Do you want to drive with me and work the peddles? Please??” “Sure,” Mat said in shock at how quickly things had escalated then come back down to rest. Mat took his place on his own machine, plopped his feet up on the pedals, gently laid his hands over Tyler’s, and we were off to explore wild places.

Tyler was at the wheel of control as he led our little train of four-wheelers off into the wilderness that day. He drove as we slowly crept through the tall grass down by the creek. He revved fast through the open meadow, racing past the antelope. He carefully navigated the switchbacks up Lookout Mountain where we basked in the wide-open spaces of the Big Hole Valley. It was mid-afternoon when I pulled up along-side Tyler as he drove Mat back to the ranch house. It was then I saw his helmet nodding back and forth, then slowly drift forward then bob back up. It was almost as if he was pretending to take a nap or something. All the while his hands grasped the wheel of control and Uncle Mat was there for the ride.

I think about this little episode often. Not to gloat on an epic parenting win, which it clearly was. Quite the opposite. I stand in wonder at how if I were to relate this experience to the story of life, I’d be Tyler. So many times I’ve thought I’ve known what I wanted, so I made my demand, and pitched a fit if things didn’t go my way; only to find I was nowhere near being prepared for the challenge. Nonetheless, the next thing I know I’m at the wheel of control of my life, and I find myself in beautiful places filled with wonderful people, and I have no idea how I got there.

Because deep down inside, I know the truth. I know I cannot reach the pedals, nor do I have the strength to turn the wheel. Yet, there I am, cruising the path of life; creeping through tall grass, revving across open meadows, navigating switchbacks, and at times I’ve even been caught napping at the wheel of control. Sometimes I can almost feel Gods hands resting on mine, guiding and directing where I should go and what I should do. It’s comforting to know who’s really at the wheel of control. And for the times I don’t feel hands, well, I know they are there, because I am here.

Copyright © 2020 Ward E Wilson