"I wonder what it's like to have parents who stay together,"
mused Sophia (17).
Sophia is of an age when it's time to ask the big questions.
"Will I have children one day?" (Not if that makes me
Grandma, you won't).
And, "Is hair straightening over?" Yes, yes it is.
From first ball gown to first divorce, the road to womanhood
is filled with stiletto-breaking landmarks.
My approach to mothering is similar to baking a cake without
a recipe, but despite my shortcomings, or because of them,
the bun from my oven is turning out marvellously.
Not in jail, not pregnant, and employed by people not related
to her.
Hurrah! Back in the day, we muddled along not thinking much
of passing exams, leaving school, buying a car, a house,
owning a cat, having children because -let's face it - these
things just sort of happen to you.
Kids today have a real sense of celebrating rites of passage,
because it's so damned hard to do pretty much anything now,
with the nanny state hovering over you in case you skin a
knee and run to ACC.
Surrounded by the cloying candyfloss of protection, the steps
to adulthood are all the more remarkable if you actually make
them - and aren't still living with your parents when you're
33, too scared to leave home, in case you get a haematoma.
These accomplishments remind me of the economist's scout
blanket with badges sewn on for various achievements.
Instead of lighting fires and abseiling, for Sophia it's
choosing a boyfriend, having enough stylish clothes to wear,
saving for that first big purchase and getting your driver's
licence, surely one of the most significant, and I should
know.
Or not know, as the case may be.
Unlike talking and wearing frocks, driving isn't something
the Scott women are famed for doing well.
I still recall the noise my mother's car made when, listening
out for her return as a child, she drove straight through the
garage doors.
Our driveway is very narrow.
Reversing down it, I career from side to side.
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