Two of the three children in our home are selectively independent, meaning that they do what they want without doing what I want. Independence without the responsibility. I think that’s normal. While Victoria and Zachary hang out locally, going to the movies, visiting friends’ homes, picking up a snack at Panera, Isabella stays with me. She does not seem to mind. We go shopping, attempt bike riding, watch a movie on TV. I don’t mind either. She’s good company. For the most part, there’s no complaining. She doesn’t whine when I say that we’re going to Whole Foods. Instead, she asks if she can get sushi. She’s ready to be independent. I think the first try will be mailing a letter. It requires crossing one one-way street. I will follow her. She ran home the other night from the car and crossed two streets in the dark. I watched her from the car. I did not hover. And, she came back, too, unharmed. Funny, she didn’t even announce that she had accomplished this by herself. I think she’s ready. And I think I am, too.

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