Kid is seventeen. Holy fucking shit! JesusMaryAndJosephChrist! I don’t know how this happened. But I am intensely proud of the person he has become. He is sweet and funny and kind. He’s a little bit (a lot) of a hermit. But I think the social stuff is something he will figure out once he’s out of the house. I know and love a bunch of late bloomers on the social stuff and they are fine.

This is such a weird time, this beginning of the end of childhood. I am not quite sure what to do with myself. And I have to wait to see what Kid will do before I can plan. I think that is what is weird. Years of being the one in the driver’s seat and then WHAMO! and they are driving off on their own. Will Kid stay home for long? Will he want to go to college straight away (he’s starting at community college so he can plan as late as he wants) or will he want to work for awhile first. That was one of my favorite people’s plan and she’s now getting her PhD in math and awesomeness. I don’t know. He doesn’t know. He has to make the decision for himself and all I can do is give advice. Weird. Sofaking weird.

And weirder still is the fact that I am more, what exactly is the way to describe it. It’s like the little fluttery fear and excitement you get standing on a diving board while deciding to jump or not. I am more outwardly that than the Kid is. He’s all cool now. He’s mastering my raised eyebrow of doom. He would think that I was being silly and ridiculous for being all WOO WOO 17!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My baby is 17. I am still not sure how that happened.