Turning Eighteen
At dinner last night I gently reminded our daughter about the reality of the situation she would face this morning. Yes, she can now buy alcohol, watch adult movies, buy top shelf magazines, and all the other things – but none of those things are really that important.
She is now an adult. And being an adult really comes down to one thing – whatever she does from this point forward is her fault. And that is important.
Until today, if she screwed up, it would have been our door that got knocked on – our phone that rang. Now that all changes. That's what being an adult is really about – knowing that the buck stops with you – if you do something stupid, it's on you.
Of course we will still be here for her – put a roof over her head, clothes on her back, feed her, care for her, buy her chocolate when she's had a crap day, and share wine with her at dinner. I will still tell her rubbish jokes, complain about the state of her bedroom, and not go away even though she tells me to when life seems too difficult and stressful to deal with.
But now she's a grown up. And it feels strange.
While fast asleep last night the sweep of time passed through our house, and we said goodbye to the little girl that looked over the top of her reading glasses at us, and said hello this morning to young woman with the world at her feet, and a hopefully wonderful future stretched out in front of her.
Yes, she's unsure at times, and yes, she struggles to deal with so many things that others take for granted, but she's made it this far, and it's going to be wonderful to share in at least a little of what she does next.