Between me and the Farm Manager we've been co-parenting five juniors, one of whom is turning 30 today. By the end of the year three of five will have hit the big three-oh.
Both of us were relatively progressive parents. The girls grew up knowing they could be doctors or heavy-equipment operators. The boys grew up knowing they could be nurses or kindergarten teachers.
As things turned out, we didn't get any doctors or nurses or heavy-equipment operators. We did, however, get some stark "stereotypical" differences between boys and girls.
Girls answer their emails. They know how to have a telephone conversation, and they even seem to know your phone number.
Boys, not so much. They never call and they don't reply to unsolicited emails from parents. As a result, you tend to worry about them more, even when they're turning 30. The guy who's turning 30 today is a chef who has been unemployed since the lock-down started. You wonder how he's doing. Is he managing to scoop up any of that free money Justin's been spreading around? Is he sitting alone in the dark getting depressed?
Know what I mean? You worry. It's what parents do.
So today I hear from the little shit for the first time in two months. "Hey Dad, my phone was off-line for awhile... were you trying to get hold of me? I'm doing great! Bought some legal weed for the first time. It was pretty good! It was actually kinda cool to have government weed delivered to your door!"
Sounds like he's doing okay.
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