I’m never quite so aware of my driving habits as when I’m taxiing other people’s children around.

While I would hardly characterize my solo driving as reckless, the chauffeuring of another’s precious cargo induces an acute sensitivity that perceives all stops as too short, all corners as too sharp, and all speeds as too fast. Similarly, a backseat of little people makes me more cognizant of my attitude behind the wheel: There is nothing like the monkey-see-monkey-do perspective of a toddler, with tiny lips poised to mimic, to ensure my attentiveness that expletives are not emitted during the encounter with the swear-word-of-a-red Hyundai cutting me off.