Last summer we bought a John Deere lawn tractor and attachable cart for my older son. He was eight years old. Before you freak out, let me give you a little timeline.

At 3 years old he was riding a two-wheel bike. No training wheels.

At 4 he was steering his father’s large tractor, and riding along in semi trucks, combines, and tractors.

At 7 he could dependably steer my car up and down our large figure eight driveway (in my lap).

At 8 he would ask me what things he’d need to know to pass his driving test. He decided he was mostly unsure about parallel parking.

When we purchased the tractor, he was absolutely able and willing to drive it. We had to slam the seat all the way forward, but this summer he fits just fine.

Now, when I hand him the keys to the building, he can unplug the battery from the charger, swing the hood down, hook up his trailer, and meet me in the front yard for some weed runs. He’ll then drive down to the burn pile, dump, and return. All on his own. At nine years old.

This blows my mind. I learned to ride a bike at eight years old! Seriously. Even crazier, he can accurately back up the two-wheel trailer to the spots I request. I’m thirty-six, I can’t accurately back up the trailer to anything.

If there is an “expert driver” gene, I know he got this from Dear Husband. Mr. “I-can-parallel-park-a-bus-with-a-trailer-on-a-city-street.” I’ve got pictures to prove it.

The benefit for me: I won’t have to parallel park in the city and I get to ride in the trailer to the burn pile. Gotta love that.