My Son, the Echo Boomer

My elder son turns 21 tomorrow. That's a big birthday. And as all old geezerettes say, "I remember 21 like it was yesterday." Yup---my parents were old farts and I knew everything. I was an adult, by gum. Now it's his turn. I'm an old fart and he knows everything. He's an adult. Adult?? That little toddler who watched Raffi videos and napped in the hammock? Who dressed in costumes and pedaled his first car around the yard? Maybe things aren't so different after all. On his last break from college, he watched the Simpsons and napped on the sofa. He dressed in his Che Guevara tee-shirt and drove his car over the curb.

Of course, now he lives with roommates instead of parents and writes papers on Descartes instead of drawing pictures of Spiderman. I am as proud of him as when he took his first step, said his first word, got his first A. I worry about him as much as when he first went to sleep-away camp, first started high school, got his driving permit. Pride and worry---I suppose parents own these emotions all our parental lives. Oh yeah, and love.

Happy birthday, Will.