A version of this post first published June 9, 2016, when my oldest - now 20 - was still a teenager.
My teenager was forced to emerge yesterday from his dark hole of a bedroom because it was the first day of summer break, and we had to go get his passport renewed.
Just a few days before, I'd stood on the front porch, bantering with him as he walked out to his car, watching him pull out and waving goodbye to him as he left for one of his last few days of his junior year.
He hates when I do this.
"Why do you do that? It's so weird," he'll say in a tone that makes it clear he's disgusted by the whole thing.
