My youngest turned 21 last week.
What a milestone. For her, yes, but equally for me. Wasn’t she just 12 last year? Time goes by so quickly in retrospect. I knew it was coming, and, as she pointed out, she has been legally an adult for the last 3 years, but 21 is really adult
She had classes all day on her birthday and work in the evening at the restaurant where she works a couple nights a week, but she called when she was done at 10pm and wanted to take us out for a beer so we could be with her for her first legal carding. Oh, so exciting. We sat in the very crowded studenty place, struggling to hear, over blasting music, her very savvy critique of one of her sociology professor’s theories, and I thought, “Dang, she sounds like an adult.”
The next night she and 10 of her friends came over for dinner and birthday cake – which was very fun with a mixture of a lot of laughing and intense intellectual college student conversations. I thought again, “Dang, she really is an adult.”
Then it was time for them to go and get ready for a party at the house she and 5 of them share. Birthday girl was saying good-bye to Gerti and put her through all the tricks she had taught her 9 years ago, then got down and rolled around on the floor with the dog and I was happy to see my 12 year old was still in evidence. And I thought, she is still my baby.
But I sure didn’t say that out loud.