It's one of those rituals that a mother may not attend -- a 21st birthday.
Saturday the family will trot out for a BBQ in Heir I's honor and we'll offer him a legal beer or something. But today is for him and his friends.
Of course we've talked. Don't be stupid, we said. Use your head, we said. Realize the head you use when you've drunk enough is not the head to use, we said. Call us, we said. Call a cab, we said. Designate a driver who will not drink all evening, we said.
All the time we are saying this, we know that, in the end, it's only good character and a deep-set sense of responsibility that will prevent him from becoming a danger to himself and others behind the wheel of a car.
So I've stopped saying anything and I will rest easy.
Happy Birthday, Charley*. I'm so proud of the adult you have become.
*You will notice I did not once call you...oops! I almost said it. You'd really be mad at me then, huh? You know. if I slipped and called you...oops! There I go again...