Let me tell you a story.
When I was a teen, I was especially quiet and bookish. I did not smoke or drink. I didn't even drive, until I went to college. I was completely under the parental thumb--to the extent that I could barely even tell that it was so.
My parents insisted I attend church every Sunday, and religious education during the week. I went to Catholic high school.
I was not allowed to wear a bikini. Anything the least bit revealing or clingy was met with "No Child of Mine Is Going To Leave the House in That."
If I got in trouble, I was grounded BY THE SEMESTER. So, yes, that time I went to a party, in 9th grade, and there was alcohol served (because some of the guests were 18) but I didn't drink any? And the guy next to me tripped over a cat and spilled his wine on my pants? Yup. Christine did not leave the house for anything other than school or church for THE NEXT FOUR MONTHS.
My friends all called my father The Warden (but never to his face, because dear GOD, they probably never would have seen me again).
Cue the Bob Dylan:
Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.
Today my parents' Valentine's Day box for the Sons arrived. Son #1 (16) and Son #2 (14) each received a pair of silk PLAYBOY BOXER SHORTS.
I am floored.