All week Miss17 has begged to go to a party this weekend. That in itself is pretty good. She's 17, finished school, working, studying at Tafe (which she's paying for herself) and she's still asking our permission.
When I was 17 I'd tell my parents where I was going and that was the end of that conversation.
We basically decided late last year to let her make her own calls from now on, with us throwing in questions and an opinion when we deem it necessary. It's hard cutting those apron strings, but it needs to be done eventually. And subtly. For us this means when we decide they can take control of their social life we simply don't tell them - they ask, we pretend to think about it and then say yes. By the time they realize they've been running their own show they've usually got a handle on it.
As Miss17 proved tonight.
We dropped her and her boyfriend at the birthday party late this afternoon - it was slightly out of town on acreage. A group of young people (birthday boy was 20) were all sleeping over and having a bonfire and we were to pick them up tomorrow. It was a big deal.
Two hours later I got a message on Facebook - 'Dad, are you on FB? Can't talk but can you call me and make up some excuse and tell me I've got to come home?'
Twenty minutes later we had the two of them in our car and got our explanation.
"There were drugs," she said.
Sometimes I question if we're doing it right. Sometimes life answers me.