Once again, during the holidays I noticed that my children are now adults, no longer requiring much (though still some) parenting. This year, I realized my children are grown when
1. I sent one of them on a midnight run to pick up the other one at the airport because I didn’t want to stay awake to do it.
2. They knew far more of the crossword puzzle answers to clues based on popular culture than I did. (Maybe I should watch more Netflix . . . )
3. They willingly bought gas for my car, instead of returning it empty.
4. Their ideas on laying out the kitchen in our new house and arranging furniture made as much sense, if not more, than mine.
5. Their gifts were chosen more thoughtfully than those I received from older relatives, and their gift budgets were obviously bigger than they used to be.
6. They made our Christmas dinner from scratch—including mashed sweet potatoes, turkey gravy, and a chocolate chiffon cake. The only thing out of a can was the jellied cranberries, which was at my request.
7. The career advice I wanted to give was a generation out of date. What I felt I had to do thirty years ago might not apply in today’s world. So I tried to be quiet and just listen to them.
But they still left their clothes scattered all over the floor. The difference from their teenage years was that I (mostly) kept my mouth shut.
I have to accept that I’m done raising my children, and they turned out pretty well. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Gives you some satisfaction to see them at this point, doesn’t it? Ahhhhhh!
Yes, it does!