Today for the first time my little girl, who isn't so little any more, and my little boy, who also isn't so little anymore, are both away from home in their first cars. As I watched my son pull out and drive down the road I realized something; underneath my hard, crunchy exterior lies a soft, milky center.
I've always joked with the kids that they were getting a U-Haul for their 18th birthday. In fact, I searched eBay and got my son a little toy replica of one just as I had always promised. But today makes me realize that I never really wanted them to grow up; I've kind of grown fond of them.
All of the plans that I had for when they leave the house: walking around naked (except when frying bacon), turning their rooms into a wood shop, changing all the locks; all of those plans suddenly seemed trivial and meaningless to me. Instead, I sat here and observed that a salty, water-like substance was carving tracks down my dusty face. I realized that I was sad, and probably needed a shower.
So fly, fly young birds, spread your wings in flight, but you better be home by 9. And remember, you will always be my little boy and little girl and I'm proud of the young people you both have become, but also very, very sad.
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