The manager of a pediatrician’s office told me about a call she’d received the other day from a health insurance representative with a question about a claim. Who exactly, the rep wanted to know, was Driver 1,and who was Driver 2? Each had received flu shots at the pediatrician’s office, and the $55 bills had been submitted along with those for other family members that had actual first and last names.

I couldn’t help but laugh. And I couldn’t decide which was more absurd: the fact that the family had sent the drivers to get the much-coveted, receive-only-if-in-dire-need flu shot, or that they had not just one driver, but two.

Along with the latest Balenciaga bags, Jennifer Miller jewels, and sheared mink vests, these days the ultimate status symbol is the driver.

But unlike the roaring 1980s, when the driver simply ferried the investment banker to and from his Park Avenue fortress, today the chauffeur – if there is only one – is just as much responsible for delivering the ladies who lunch, along with their darlings Max and Ava, to school, play dates, speech therapy, and soccer. And don’t get me wrong. These are not cases of two, high-powered parents finally achieving marital equity by hiring not one, but two drivers.

These days, the driver must ferry daddy to the Four Seasons Restaurant for lunch, but much more important in securing his Christmas bonus is his obtaining the prime parking spot directly outside the Waldorf when the hospital luncheon ends at 2 p.m. on the dot.

And again in contrast to the filthy rich days of yore, it would be so passe if these drivers actually drove Town Cars, let alone limousines. No, the cars of choice for these ladies to be driven around in are hulking, black, window stinted SUVs – the bigger the better. Suburbans and Denalis and GMCs and Yukons and Sequoias, please.

This is partially a financial decision. The chauffeurs are most often driving the family car, which allows a greater number of these parents to afford this luxury. Instead of the additional cost of a car and driver, it is just the driver’s salary that must be weighed, and of course balanced against the staggering cost of taxis these days. Families that are struggling to afford to buy apartments in New York are still springing for drivers. Rentals along Second and Third avenues – not just Park and Fifth avenues and Central Park West – are lined at 7:30 a.m. with rows of black cars.

At all three of my children’s schools, these cars block the streets and cause traffic, creating a hazard for drivers and pedestrians alike. Each morning, the massive cars pull up in front of school and the casual-yet-elegantly dressed drivers hop out and carry little Sophie and Ella safely to the curb. Mommy or daddy hops out as well, and brings the children into the school and to their classrooms, while the drivers remain double-parked.

And these drivers are not just drivers. On sunny days I notice toddlers sticking their heads out of the sunroofs and windows, playing peek-a-boo with the chauffeur, as they wait for their mothers to return. Actually, I’ve seen some kids genuinely more excited to see their drivers than to see the nannies – or even the mothers – that come to pick them up from school.

Now before this column begins to sound like a case of sour grapes, let me say that I can certainly understand the appeal of a driver in New York. And on cold, rainy days, I am downright jealous of those women as they jump with their children right into their cars, rather than try to convince them that it’s fun walking in the rain, and that, no, their enormous dioramas, which of course had to be sent home on a bitter, drizzling day, are not going to be ruined.

But it is a daily struggle to raise children with good values, and an even more vital challenge in New York, where the concentrated level of affluence is staggering. If there is one quality in children and adults that most people can agree is objectionable, it is that of entitlement. Is there any more clear way of showing your child that he is entitled than having a chauffeur take him to and from his activities – sometimes without a parent or caregiver even present?

I don’t care how many pennies these schools collect in their annual penny harvests, how many times you convince your child to give away some toys to a family less fortunate, and just how often you buy a sandwich for a person who can’t afford to buy his own. Children learn most from the unspoken ways in which we choose to live our lives. And it is by observing these decisions – to take a taxi or hire a driver, to make your kids put their clothes in the hamper or to allow someone to do it for them – that children really learn about good values.

So I guess, even on rainy days, I’ll be getting out my umbrella. And as for the diorama? I don’t worry about it too much. I’m probably going to throw it out when my kid isn’t looking, anyway.