Eighteen

My oldest daughter, Anna, turned 18 today. Some notes: Everything they say is true. All of it. One of the most disconcerting things about being a parent is the way you come to better understand your own parents and your own childhood. I was in high school for what seemed like eternity; the realization that it flew by for my parents puts a new lens on so many of my family memories. I've known this for a while, but it is now hitting home more than ever: 18 year-olds just aren't adults in most senses of the word. The politics of adulthood have always fascinated me, and there are plenty of reasons to give 18 year-olds some/most legal rights and responsibilities. But it's quite obviously messy and trying to draw bright lines no longer makes sense to me, if it ever did. Here in Virginia, 18 is the pure age of majority, meaning my wife and I are no longer even legally required to take care of Anna. (Many states, including New York where we grew up, require parents to care for children until…