That's my new philosophy about teenagers. Sure we conceive, bring forth, raise and send them out into the world to make their way. But we're theirs...They are not ours (or at least that's what they think).
Don't EVEN know what the first two paragraphs of this post have to do with anything (pre-senior moment!)
Take my 18 year old for example....I'm sure y'all remember him.
He's down in San Antonio, TX at Fort Sam Houston being chiseled into a full fledged army combat medic!
He calls to check on his property (me) every now and then...and I do my little happy dance everytime I hear his ringtone waking my cellphone from it's silent slumber (melody?....ArmyStrong, of course!)
When he doesn't feel like talking which I guess is either due to him feeling really home sick or succumbing to that portion of his genetic make up that I had no control over we use Blackberry Messenger.
A few nights back he messaged me a pic of a young lady with the caption Pretty?
Feeling all soft and mushy inside at the thought of him wanting my opinion I quickly replied back Very!
He went on and on about how he met her in San Antonio while she was there visiting relatives. The crazy coincidence is that the Pretty girl is from our hometown! (PAUSE hit back button on phone and take a really good look at this chick!)
I did and she looked familiar. I asked him her name (first and last)...you know that interrogatory line of questioning that parents always give
Now it's really getting good.... I wind up knowing the Pretty girl's parents....went to school with both of them and graduated with Pretty girl's father! (queue the music from...this)
Sounds like a whole new chapter in my life is about to begin......