As I sit in a tattoo studio, watching my sixteen-year-old get his first tattoo, I am reminded of sixteen year old me and my desire to “hurry up and grow up” mindset. I remember my sixteenth birthday vividly. It was the summer of 1990. The day was warm, as most July’s in Alberta are, Mom was at work, Dad had recently moved out. Gramma had probably woken us too early. I was secretly hoping someone had planned a sweet sixteen party like all the American girls in the teen romance novels I read had thrown for them.

I called the radio station and requested a song for myself, dedicated to me. Hello, I Love You by the Doors, my favourite of the day. The only other detail I really remember was a store bought cake. This is significant for me as it was the first store-bought cake I think I’d ever had. Up until this point, Mom had always made our birthday cakes. To me, this was disappointing, but I completely understood why and was thankful I had a cake. She was running the whole show now with Dad gone. As a parent now, I understand the significance even more.

Thank you, Mom, for that cake. I remember the flowers on the cake were beautiful and even after a long day at work, a new separation to deal with, you still thought to bring home a cake for a moody, mostly thoughtless teenage drama queen.

Anyway, back to the memory. I remember being in a rush. A rush to drive, a rush to date, a rush to drink liquor, a rush, rush, rush to DO EVERYTHING. Always wanting to do grown up things. Work, make money (spend money), stay up late, stay out late. Go to bars. All the things we think adults do.

I remember wanting to move out on my own. The catalyst long forgotten but so excited to start that adult chapter of my life. Not realizing how much junk there is to deal with. The housework, the bills, the yuck of the everyday. The things we as adults, do but the kids don’t see. Taxes, utilities, groceries. My son made a comment to a friend of his about the ‘cereal fairy’ that comes into his room at night closes up open boxes of cereal when he leaves them open. Like magic! No, son, it isn’t magic. I just do not want to waste money on stale cereal you won’t eat.

I agreed to the tattoo. It is a memorial piece to his late grandmother. He has been planning it since her rapid descent into dementia. My kiddo is rational and well thought so I know this is a decision he won’t likely regret. But I worry that this will push him into a rapid start of adult things. We’ve encouraged him to “be a kid” for a little longer, but one never knows what is in another’s head. I know he wants to be grown up and do the things adults do. Whether that is having a drink, trying marijuana, or moving out on his own.

I think about sixteen-year-old me, and I wish I could tell her to S.L.O.W. down. Adulthood can wait. Get the part-time job if you want, but because you want the frivolous things, like clothes or shoes, not to pay rent. Get your license so you can drive to the movies (or the part-time job). Date to improve your social circle, not to find a husband! Value yourself, value your time, and value your freedom. It is time you will never get back. Use it wisely but use it for fun.

My son’s friends have a habit of just dropping by… And not leaving. This delights me. They know my son will generally say ‘no’ if asked to go out, so they just show up and drag him out. They play Pokémon Go. They go for Slurpee’s. They sit and watch movies, play guitar, video games, or sometimes, they talk. We feed them. Pizza, most often. This is how it should be! They don’t have an agenda; they have no set plan. They just enjoy life.

It is okay with me if he waits for birthday number seventeen to grow up.