I have never raised a teenager before, so I’m just flying by the seat of my pants.
Basically, I have no idea what I’m doing.
I hope I don’t screw up too much.
I hope she doesn’t either.
If we’re still speaking to each other by the time she takes her first legal drink, I’ll count it as a huge success.
For that matter, if we’re still speaking to each other by the time she takes her first illegal drink, I’ll count that as a huge success.
And I hope when all is said and done, she’ll look back and not hate me too much and invite me out for lunch every once in awhile. Maybe even push my wheelchair and hook up my oxygen.
And with any luck, she’ll wait until there’s something more serious than a hangnail before she pulls the plug on me when I’m 110.
I can say with absolute certainty that fifteen years ago this week, my days weren’t nearly as exciting or emotional or roller coaster-ish as they are now.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
She is one of the best things I ever did with my life.
Happy fifteenth birthday a few days early, Zoe.