The email alert from Kaiser Permanente came this morning. Click on the message, and what comes up is the title of the post. It's in reference to Le Daughter, 8 years old when I started blogging and 18 years old tomorrow.
Unlike when I was 18, she can't celebrate her birthday by going and legally buying a six-pack of beer.
Unlike those who turned 18 in California prior to June 9 of this year, she can't celebrate her birthday by going and legally buying a pack of cigarettes.
So she'll celebrate the achievement of adulthood by going and buying a lottery ticket. That's one up on me.
She's turning 18 mere weeks before heading off to her freshman year of college. As I said when Eldest went off to college last fall: I'm not ready. I'm still not ready. He was. She is.
I'll remain not ready for the many next chapters ahead. I've not been ready for a new chapter since the day the first kid was born. I'm not ready to skip to the end, either, mind you, nor am I interested in looking ahead. [Okay, I'll admit I've wished at times that I could just take a peek at an upcoming chapter. But, I swear, no genie ever granted that wish.]
Ready or not, here they go.