What a difference three years makes

I had the honor of throwing a 21st birthday party for my daughter a week or so ago. Yes, Baby Girl actually allowed her parents to join her and her friends for that right of passage. (OK, may it's because we sprung for food and drink.)

Anyway, that party jarred loose some flashbacks to her 18th birthday. She was a college freshman and her birthday happened to fall just after we'd moved her into her dorm. Better Half, Sonny Boy and I had checked into a hotel for the weekend — making for a long goodbye — and had asked Baby Girl to spend that last night at the hotel with us so we could celebrate her birthday with a breakfast before leaving — without her — for the 7-hour drive home.

She refused. "I'm bonding with my dormmates!"

I protested that she'd have all semester to bond with her dormmates. "This is your last chance to bond with your parents."

She won, and stayed in the dorm. The next morning — her birthday — Better Half, Sonny Boy and I ate breakfast at the hotel. Before leaving town, we stopped by Baby Girl's dorm to drop off birthday gifts and say goodbye.

"Aren't we going to breakfast?" She seemed genuinely shocked that we'd eaten without her.

It was a sad and strange parting and a loooong drive home that year.

This year, we actually got hugs and kisses when we left. Perhaps three years of college (replete with noisy dorms, moldy apartments and annoying roommates) have made her appreciate family just a bit. Or, perhaps it's wishful thinking on my part.