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I stepped into the grocery store and frowned at the bunches of “Happy Father’s Day” balloons, strategically placed by the entrance. If I’d been shopping for my husband or my now-grown sons, who are wonderful dads, my mission would have been easier. But that day, I had to buy a card for my father. 

My children have entered the age of freedom and independence . . . or at least that’s where they think they’ve arrived. At 15, almost 14, and 10, we’re riding into all the double digits of tweens and teens. Everyone is starting to think for themselves, and I’m not so sure how I feel about it. Gone are the days of wide-eyed acceptance of every truth we utter; now our kids take most of our commandments as recommended operating instructions in a manual they’re not all that interested in reading.