I have always been a staunch proponent of being allowed to make one’s own mistakes. All that “don’t talk to strangers” propaganda never quite washed with me. Thankfully, my folks understood and quite gracefully chose to quit while they were ahead… at least I told them each time I adam-teased… and I guess they decided silence was the better part of valour.
And now my sister’s got her own phone… so I have a distinct, entirely separate entry in my address book on her name. And I can’t even begin to describe how much this freaks out. She’s going to brain me with her stuffed cat if she discovers I tried to talk Mom into taking it back from her (which explains why this post is going up here and not the other blog). “She’s too young” is the answer to the question of the universe where my sister’s concerned. Phones today, dates tomorrow, and before one knows it, she’s off bumming at beaches. I can do it… but that’s a different thing.
(Yes it is… much you know about it… harrumph!)
I never realized how brave my parents are. I’d probably have a coronary the day my kid started toddling.
Oh and that little white thing you see flying right there? That’s my personal philosophy sailing off into the void. Sigh!
