I sit in traffic, my hands on the steering wheel, staring out at the road in front of me, feeling like a chauffeur. The two girls in the back seat giggle and squeal in what seems to be their own language. Their music blares from the back seat- nothing I would ever choose to listen to on my own. My rides with my daughter are usually filled with conversation. We talk about everything, our observations, our plans for the day, what we should have for dinner. Now though, as she chats non-stop to her best friend in the back seat I am silent. My few attempts to join in the conversation are met with a long silence, followed by a sharp "Mama". Her normally sweet voice is short and exasperated. As if to say, "Drive women. Your opinion isn't wanted for back here." A new song comes on and they squeal in delight and start singing along. Again I am silent. Usually we swing The Wheels on the Bus together, but today it's clear I've been replaced by a perky 18 month old. A week of carpooling with her best friend to daycare has left my almost two year old with a new sense of independence in life I didn't think I'd experience until she was 16. Or 12 at least.