I was sweating, babbling and at one low point, almost crying, but after a speech to my 18-year-old daughter and her best friend about the potential dangers of driving into downtown Atlanta for a Miley Cyrus concert, I realized I was a dad. And suddenly, I was okay. Not really.
I think I need to stop reading my teenager’s Twitter feed because I’m starting to get more envious than worried. With two months left of her high school senior year, she’s starting to become an independent young woman, having fun, making mistakes, and doing it all with the same wide-eyed reckless abandon I did, a generation ago.
She came home yesterday after receiving induction into the Spanish Honors Society. I think this means she has to order from Mexican food menus in the appropriate accent but it also means she’s very smart. At the…
View original post 478 more words