Sixteen. Car. Girlfriend.

If you see my son around, tell him I said hello. Hey, I remember what it was like to be sixteen with a girlfriend and a car. It was a real kick in the pants. Let's just say this: it was the 70’s, a time when certain activities which offered an irresistible allure to a teenage boy were viewed more liberally and were, frankly, a little less dangerous. I’m proud to say I’ve never done any kind of recreational drug, but there were parties in high school. Some of them were legendary. If he engages in similar behavior, I may go into full-blown panic.
I hope he’s more like his mother, who apparently was kind of a goody two-shoes. We’ve often said that it’s fortunate that we met when we did because earlier in life we simply would not have gotten along. She’s my human credential and is now the moderating influence in our family dynamic.
I think that translates into naiveté, though. Let’s put it this way: our notions about our son’s activities are becoming somewhat divergent. My view is that she believes he is more innocent than he really is. The guy’s been around, and I know how guys think. My wife, on the other hand, is thinking like a mother who with a couple of notable exceptions always did what her Daddy told her as she was growing up.
Our son is growing more independent, and that’s a good thing. He’s growing in confidence every day. His academics have been outstanding. His manners are by and large acceptable. Over all, he seems to be a good kid. Even good kids test the boundaries.
Sixteen. Car. Girlfriend. We’ll keep the light on for him.

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