So today is the first-ever day of school for Max. Given that she's 18 years old, that may seem a bit unorthodox but then I've sometimes gotten paid to read comics for a living so we're not exactly the typical family.
At freshmen orientation yesterweek, they stressed again and again how important it was not to be helicopter parents to your new college student children: you don't want to hover. You've done your part, now let them go and find their place in this world.
Given that I failed out of college, I decided the most prudent move was not to listen to that bit of advice.
So this morning, Top Management texted Max about 45 minutes before her first-ever class, just to make sure she was awake and would have time to eat before going to her first-ever class. Max replied right away, so all good.
But not good enough. Not for me.
So I chime in.
(On the off-chance there's a Left o' the Dialian so culturally-deprived as to not get the reference immediately, here's the origin. See? My kids aren't the only ones I coddle care about deeply.)