My dads speech in the early eighties before handing me the car keys on Friday night... (Sometimes I wouldn't come home till Sunday afternoon a smidge worse for the wear)
Why would a parent really want to know what their 14 year old daughter was really up to at the sleepover or how the grass turf ended up embedded in the muffler of their 16 year olds cars.
Helicopter parents that live through their kids and follow them on Facebook and call them over the weekend really creep me out.
What ever happened to the don't ask don't tell parenting of the seventies and eighties.
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