Max is attending his first “party” (that we know about).

Max: I can handle myself.

Cassie: Ummm.

Max: Don’t you trust me?

Cassie: Ummm.

Max: I don’t like the taste of alcohol.

Cassie: Ummm.

Max: I am wise for my age.

Cassie: Ummm.

Max: I haven’t screwed up in this arena. Not once.

Cassie: Ummm.

Max: Can she talk?

Scott: She’s in a state.

Max: So can I go?

Scott: Let’s go over the ground rules one more time. And I’m driving you and picking you up exactly at your curfew. One mess up and you are done. Done, ya hear?

Max: Yup. Fine. Understood.

(Max and Scott walk out of the master bedroom where we’ve been holding the conference called, “Going To a Party.” I remain in the room, folding laundry.)

Max: I’m wondering whether she’ll ever be able to form words again.

Scott: Don’t be fresh. You’re the first kid. She has to get used to the idea.

Max: Three more kids to go.

Scott: Jesus. My life.