Our youngest child turned twenty-one last week.
Twenty-one.
The age of all things legal.
Are we done, now? Did we do it? Did we raise a whole human able to figure out all the things on his own?
Obviously, no.
The further into parenting one gets, the more evident it becomes that parenting is forever.
Even now, at fifty-five, I ask my dad for advice. While the frequency of those asks has certainly lowered, the importance of his thoughts remains the same. Well, mostly.
We are in the long parenting phase of balancing both of our baby adults’ need for advice with their preference not to listen to it. It’s an endless phase filled with moments that start off strong (It’s happening! They’re asking for our thoughts!) and often end with a head shake (Wait, now what? Why’d they even ask?).
As parents, we have the gift of knowing which decisions will end well and which have the potential to create a logjam of new hiccups. It’s challenging as our requested role is often to just sit back and…watch. Yes, we parents can fairly easily predict what will work and what won’t, but we have no pull.
I’m not saying that we should be helicoptering our children into their twenties (or ever, actually). It’s critical for our children to make their own mistakes, endure the consequences, and collect failed data for next time, no matter their age.
I get that, but getting that doesn’t make it any easier just to sit back and…watch.
Twenty-one.
I asked our son if he’d slipped out to the nearest bar at midnight for that first entry into a mysterious world. The silence was deafening.
“Wait, do kids not do that anymore? When I was in college, we traveled in a pack to The Rat at midnight when celebrating twenty-first birthdays.”
More silence.
“It was great! Finally inside the bar rather than just wondering what was happening from the outside!”
More silence.
“So…that’s not how it works anymore?”
My son finally responded with a semi-bothered, “Why would I do that when I’ve been able to get alcohol anywhere I want for years?”
Welp.
Also, get off my lawn.
I had to remind myself, while licking my aging wounds, that the college experience is different in 2026 than it was in 1991. With all the technologies, gathering at the local bar after classes has become an unnecessary way to gather. It’s not that I don’t think my kids are having their own version of fun; it’s that they aren’t having the same fun that I had, which, obviously, is superior.
What memories could they possibly be creating while staying in, after all? Don’t answer that.
In six weeks, our new twenty-one-year-old will take to the skies for the long flight to Japan. I am equally excited for him and his friends as I am nervous for all the parents who will be waving goodbye at the airport.
Surely, this child isn’t old enough to fly halfway around the world without me.
What memories could they possibly be creating without guidance, after all?
Don’t answer that.
This landed so well — especially the part about parenting being forever, and that awkward middle ground where they actually ask for advice and then look at you as if to say, why did you even answer? My favorite detail was the midnight-bar story: the ritual mattered more than the drink, and now the ritual itself has changed. With your son’s Japan trip coming up in six weeks, I hope you get to enjoy the part where he comes back with stories you could not have planned for him. Thanks for writing this with such a light touch — it made me laugh, and it also made me rethink how often I offer advice before I am asked.
Yes!! I always have to tell myself “But did he ask?” after he goes a different direction. 🤣