Granted, plastic (and all its environmental bads) isn't so old-fashioned. Just yesterday, I heard about a woman who attempted to give up plastic for Lent. Toothpaste, shampoo, toilet paper - she was able to live a fairly normal lifestyle except for a few staple items. I guarantee, though, that every mother would rather have toy soldiers made from plastic than from lead. Let the Doldrums be damned.
Today I'm not worrying about lead toys. We've decided to allow Sam to drive himself to Wixom tonight for two soccer games. Just under eight months with a driver's license. I hope and pray that he paid attention in driver's ed to those dire warnings about speed limits and merging.
Time moves inexorably forward. Kids grow up and leave home, parents get older. When the kids are little, you keep lead out of the toybox. You pull over when the babies unfasten their seat belts. You choose G movies and Teletubbies. You make sure they wear hats and mittens, warm coats and boots. You sing them to sleep, perhaps occasionally catching them under the covers with a flashlight. You watch their grades, feed them a home-cooked meal, and drive them to soccer games. It's a lot of work, and in some ways, it's the easy part.
Later, you let them drive themselves, a half hour on the freeway on a wintery Saturday night. You let them choose their college and their major. You give them unlimited screen time. You can't make them read, or eat right, or sleep the right number of hours. You can't make them do their homework, or walk the dog, or get to class on time. You don't choose their friends.
Next thing you know, they are stronger, faster, smarter than you. They see better, think better, reach farther. You're like Wile E. Coyote, chasing the roadrunner off a cliff, legs pumping for a just a moment before gravity takes over.
Free fall.
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