My eldest child turns 18 years old on March 31st. It seems like an arbitrary number to start considering your children adults.
But my child will be able to move out on her own, vote, buy lottery tickets, write checks, sign up for the military, and get a tattoo, if she so desires. And sure, I could get out of the last one by telling her she still lives under my roof, but I’d rather trust that she’ll make informed decisions. Isn’t that what we’ve spent the last eighteen years teaching her? To think about her actions and the consequences of those actions?
Did we tell her everything she’ll need to know? Only time will tell.
I’ll admit the idea of letting our Generation Z kid go out into the wild world on her own is daunting. I’m the mom who didn’t let their kids on social media until high school (at which point they asked, “Why bother? It’s all drama on there.” Win for me, as so many Gen Z kids equate their social media experience with their happiness.) As parents we prized advanced placement classes over working. I feel this paid off as it allows her to opt out of several college classes after she placed well on her exams. And we are the family who still goes everywhere together—vacations, the movies, and museums. Less a helicopter parent than a distant stealth plane, I have to wonder if our combination of “keep this away from her” and “let her go try” has been strong enough to give her the correct mix of independence and safety.
This year she got a job (on her own), found a date-mate (also on her own), and opened her own charge card (all by herself), so turning 18 isn’t the first time she’s flown solo. We’ve provided her the tools to ask the right questions when warranted (no matter how much we have to count to ten when she needs to understand the why of our decisions.) And we’ve taught her to give as much of herself as she is able (something as natural to her as breathing.) She’s had it drilled into her that she must educate herself on any subject she is passionate or plans to speak about.
So why is 18 such a scary number? Why does it feel like the end of childhood, especially when studies say that our brains don’t stop developing until the age of 25?
Here’s a video that helps explain why 18 was chosen as the age of adulthood. But this doesn’t explain why today’s Western parents are so focused on 18 as a “magic number,” even when Generation Z is less likely to move out of their parents’ homes at that age, less likely to sign up for the military, and less likely to have had intercourse before their 18th birthday.
We’ve provided her the tools to ask the right questions when warranted (no matter how much we have to count to ten when she needs to understand the why of our decisions.)
Perhaps it revolves around the number of milestones during year 18 (the most common age for senior year.) Graduation, Senior Prom/Homecoming, senior pictures, applying for college, getting acceptance letters—all instances that drive home the fact that your child is growing up. I remember tearing up the day my daughter put on her cap and gown for her photos. It was the beginning of this cycle leading to her adulthood.
My eldest has always been fairly independent, as many eldest children are. But the idea that graduation from high school also means graduation from the school of life (at least in regards to parents as teachers) is a scary thought. Did we tell her everything she’ll need to know? Only time will tell.
The fact that I’m 46 and still learning new ideas from my 73 year old mom comforts me slightly. Now I can only hope my daughter will see the value in that sooner than I did.
Happy birthday, Kid. You made it.
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It’s never too early to start talking about Father’s Day on The Good Men Project. We’re looking for sponsors and contributors for our #ModernDayDad campaign. https://t.co/WJvKqq2kTe pic.twitter.com/j66LNCY0VG
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This story has been republished to Medium.
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