I’m 50 years old and pretty sure I engaged in a whole lot wilder behavior than my own children.
You don’t believe me? Okay, then….
I remember driving drunk as could be with my best friend around and around one of those circles in the middle of multiple roads…at about 3 in the morning. Thank goodness there was no traffic.
I remember being in the car with my brother and best friend as we sped over a bridge in the middle of the night, drunk, with the headlights off.
I remember dancing till the middle of the night at a bar, completely loaded, with my high school boyfriend. How in the world did we get in?
I remember smoking what I thought was marijuana before a concert, only to discover that it was apparently dusted with something else. The tipoff came with the funny colors that pulsated with the beat of the music and the fact that my heart rate became almost unbearable.
That was high school, my dear…the world of a girl in Catholic girl’s school. And I was one of the “good” kids. But it was the 1970s, drugs were rampant, and I thought I was doing well to only drink.
Fortunately, I burned out of that phase by the time I went to college, and had a really good college boyfriend to settle me down.
No wonder I worry about my kids so much!