Matthew is 17 years old today. Wow, what it must be like to be that age and have the world by the horns. Happy birthday, Matt. Treasure these days.
Kids
To see full size image, click here and then click on the + arrow to enlarge it. I also put up a Flickr set here.
Matt put on his first tux and headed to his junior prom at Conestoga High School. We did the obligatory photos in the backyard. As you can see, Snickers the Wonder Dog wanted to be in every shot. (She’s never more than 5 feet from Sheryl at any time.)
The group went to a friend’s house for even more pictures. You can see some of the snapshots. Matt’s date, Justine, was the Lady in Red and looked stunning. Wouldn’t it be great to be that age again? The picture of the guys hanging together looks like something from a movie.
The Afterparty Is a Big Deal
So…prom, then the high school puts on an afterparty. And when I say “afterparty” I’m talking about a huge deal where a parents’ organizations spends tens of thousands of dollars putting on a huge party. They had all kinds of rooms set up for dancing, games, laser tag, floor hockey, karaoke, American Idol, and gambling. I dealt Blackjack for a couple of hour at one station, then was “security” until 3 in the morning.
How Do You Make a Hormone?
Funny side story: On my last shift a breathless woman came running up to me and said, “You have to do something!” Then she dragged me to the “Quiet Room,” which was set up with tents and sleeping bags and beanbags. Oh, and about 75 kids getting huggy.
“You have to do something,” she gasped. “The last person who was supposed to supervise didn’t watch them closely enough. HEY, GET OUT FROM UNDER THOSE SLEEPING BAGS!”
I just stood there. Some of the kids got up to leave. The crazed lady — a mom — says, “You need to do something. They aren’t supposed to be lying down! HEY, STOP THAT!”
I told her to step outside the door. I’d take care of it.
“Did all of you take Health class?” I asked. All the high schoolers said yes.
“There, it’s taken care of,” I told Mommy Nazi. She wasn’t amused.
‘Well, you’re just going to have to sit in there and watch them carefully,” she retorted as she stormed off.
I had a big laugh and thought, “Who in the hell thought up the idea of a Quiet Room filled with sleeping bags and didn’t think that kids would cuddle up on them?” I’m shocked, shocked, to find out that gambling is going on here.
Answer (in case you’re wondering about the question above): Don’t pay her.
Stephen Espen Mottet “Schloopy John XXIII” Roche is 15 years old today.
When we were talking the other day I said, “Wow, 15 years old.” He looked at me with amusement and said, “It’s a nothing birthday, Dad. I won’t be able to drive for another year.”
Ah, to be in those interstitial years between being a kid and growing up. (I’m caught in those interstitial years between adulthood and retirement. It just goes on and on.)
Happy birthday, Steve.
I have found the best way to give advice to your children is to find out what they want and then advise them to do it.
–Harry S. Truman
Matt is starting his school visits this week. He’s starting with Penn. We “advised” him that’s a good choice. I’ll let you know what other advice we have as we find out what it should be.
Matt takes the test for his driver’s license today. He’s ready. I don’t know if we are.
Getting a driver’s license is a turning point. Another milepost along the road to adulthood.
Matt’s a very good driver. I’m not worried about him. He’s responsible. Conscientious. I just reminded him that he’ll be driving a loaded gun, and that 44,000 people die in car accidents a year in the U.S. And I told him about the best advice I was ever told about riding a motorcycle — don’t drive mad.
That’s it. That’s the sum total of advice I can dispense as my son moves on down the road. That, and what Jackie Stewart once said: “Drive spectacularly.”
