Yesterday, as we sat waiting for the doctor so Spencer could have his yearly physical, we realized the walls in the office were rather thin. We could hear our doctor discussing a girl's ADD through the walls and her need to become physically active.
Embarrassed to overhear, Spencer and I decided to have a conversation. Spence lounged on the plastic doctor's table, the white paper covering it crinkled when he moved. "So what can I do when I'm 18 that I can't do at 17?"
He turns 18 soon.
"Well, you can vote," I said, excited that we've already registered him and he gets to vote in the November election.
"You could get a tattoo," I said, knowing he hasn't expressed an interest in tattoos thus far.
"You get to come to the doctor by yourself," I said. "Oh, and you have to register so you can be drafted if the United States ever starts drafting men again."
Hmmm. None of these options seemed to be thrilling him as the bottom half of his legs hung off the table, his clunky black shoes resting on the step he'd pulled out.
Still waiting for the doctor, I texted our friend Bethany who turned 18 about six months ago and was determined to make the most of her new adulthood. Bethany is now in Los Angeles modeling.
Here's a test shot of her by Lotus Josephine.
I remember that Bethany went to buy a lottery ticket on her 18th birthday. I wondered what else she'd gotten up to. So I asked.
"What can Spencer do when he's 18 that he can't do now?"
Then I waited for her response.
"Cigarettes and porn," she replied.
Actually, she texted "Cigarettes and pron" but then followed it up with a correction, "porn."
Great. My 18-year-old can buy cigarettes, porn, get a tattoo and seek medical advice without me.
I'm hoping he decides to ignore his 18th birthday and look ahead to his 21st.
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