Me at about 12 with my sister.
It is a strange crossroads. That period between the mid-teen years and adulthood, whenever that might be. Most of my children are now officially adults; my youngest son turned 18 just the other day. I can't help but wonder if I prepared them well. They know how to cook pasta, eggs and Mac and Cheese. They do laundry (when they must) and they wash dishes, but do they know how to manuver the medical system with insurance, paperwork and advocacy. Did I give them voice?
Driving my adult son to a doctor's appointment (he does not drive) I reminded myself of his age. Upon arriving at the appointment he checked himself in. Earlier...
Me: Just to warn you, it is likely that there will be paperwork.
Him: Argh! (He says groaning.) How come?
Me: You have never been to this doctor. I just wanted to warn you because I know how much you love paperwork...This stuff is called adulting.
Me: Don't you wish you were just out on the deck pushing around your matchboxes around and you suddenly hear me call, 'Come in! Time for supper!'
Him: Ya. Things were lots easier then.
In silence I think about all that has transpired and I too long for those times when my kids were kids. Adulting is not all that it is cracked up to be. I don't have to tell him a thing because sadly, he has already figured that out.