When my quadruplets turned 16 years old it was a dramatic conclusion to the previous year of practice driving with four teenagers who could NOT be in the same car together. Florida laws require that they have 50 hours of driving training each, ten hours at night. It had been a super busy year for us and I was thrilled they were finally able to take their driver exams and get licenses.
We practically lived at the DMV for at least a month since only one of the four passed on their first try (she will remain nameless lol). By this time we were experts, we knew the only way to be anywhere near the front of the line, and get tested and out before lunchtime, was to arrive at least two hours before they opened and start lining up with all the other pros outside.
One beautiful but slightly chilly morning I was lined up against the cold brick wall outside the DMV with one of my identical boys when the super cute gentleman in line ahead of us struck up a conversation. We made small talk for at least 30 minutes, we talked about our jobs, our marital status, our reasons for being there (he was after a vanity tag and asked both my son and I our thoughts on the options he was waffling between).
I really felt like we were vibing and he was going to ask for my number any minute. Instead he leaned over and asked my son, “hey didn’t I see you here last week?” We laughed and I explained that his identical brother had been there last week, but this was his first attempt at the exam. A little bit of shock, followed by interest, “twins?” When I told him they were a set of quadruplets his jaw dropped and he literally turned his back on me, never spoke to us again. It was another awkward 30 minutes before they finally opened the door. And I never even had a chance to tell him about my oldest, there are actually five of them asshat!
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