My kids are at the ages now where we have to think hard about whether we should get them cell phones, but don’t yet have to think hard about drivers' licenses. Of course it was only yesterday that they were learning to walk, but I understand that is the way of things. They have their own interests and their own agendas but still can’t be trusted to reliably put a towel back where it belongs. Ever.
The “we” above is my wife and me; in almost all cases the thinking and worrying and planning and other hard things are predominately handled by her. We’ve been married for 15 years and she’s learned I am not to be trusted with things like phone bills and child-rearing.
For me, I am of the age where my posture, gestures, and mannerisms, caught out of the corner of the eye in a mirror, are my dad. Dad still comes by every other Sunday so we can sit across from each other and have our similarity be a source of entertainment for everyone else. Mom works and lives a few towns over and we see her occasionally. One sister lives in state and one lives far away and I see both of them far too infrequently and that’s my fault.
In short, it’s not quite Norman Rockwell but I’m very fortunate and I try to remember that.