And buy porn. And lottery tickets. And join the military. And get married. And all kinds of other things without her parents' permission. My baby turned eighteen today. And while I could sit around and wax and wane about my mixed bag of emotions that constantly race between pride and sadness, I shall shut my pie hole and just enjoy the moment.
The highlight of the day? The ceremonial (and painful) piercing of the belly button. (Sorry about the blur. Somebody wouldn't be still.)
Oy vey. All I can say is it's better than a tattoo that she might later regret.