Who's in charge, here?

In last night's dream, my 4-year-old son picked me up in the yellow station wagon.  Since he was having a little trouble seeing over the steering wheel, I agreed that he could sit on my lap while he drove.  It seemed reasonable; there clearly wasn't a car seat in there, anyway.

We pulled up to a stop and went into a medical clinic.  We were joined in the elevator by an EMT, who turned to me after the doors slid shut.  "What do you think you're doing, out there, putting that kid's life at risk?" he said.  I was dumbstruck.

Then, suddenly, the elevator tipped to its side, then over again, then over again.  It was like being in a huge, slow-motion washing machine.  Finally, the elevator stopped turning, and the doors slid open.  The EMT got out, and gave me a "I hope you learned your lesson" glare.  I glared back.  I took my son's hand, and we walked on.