Sometimes I think I want to be a helicopter parent. Scratch that: I don't want the actual job of a helicopter parent, but it might be nice to be nominated.
This is as close as I get:
Big Kid: Mom, I need you to help me remember what I did in sixth and seventh grade.
Me: Huh? [It was really early in the morning.]
Big Kid: Academically. At the academic banquet, when they announce the eighth graders, they summarize all of our achievements over the last three years.
Me: Well, you won some UIL awards. I don't remember what they were, because you didn't actually let us attend. We just picked you up at the end of the day.
Big Kid: Got those.
Me: And Whiz Quiz. You actually let me go to those - for the first two years.
Big Kid: Already on my list.
Me: You were on the Cardboard Boat Regatta team in sixth grade. I recall making plans to take your brother to the park to watch your team compete, and you told me under no uncertain terms that we were not welcome as spectators.
Big Kid [ignoring my editorial comment]: Ooh, good - I had forgotten about that one.
Me: And I have anecdotal evidence that you placed third in the Spelling Bee, but that was -
Big Kid: - this year, right. I have that down for eighth grade, and, of course, vice-president of National Junior Honor Society.
Me: Wait, what?
Big Kid: I'm vice-president of National Junior Honor Society.
Me: Did I know about this?
Big Kid: Probably not. I don't recall discussing it. But you know about it now.
Me: And this banquet, why didn't I know about that?
Big Kid: Oh, it's at 6 pm on the 28th.
Me: Of course. Figures, because I just made plans at 6 pm on the 28th, but I am happy to change -
Big Kid: No worries. I only RSVP'd for one. It's $30 a head for adult guests, which is kind of ridiculous, and it's fun to go without parents, and sit with the teachers when they're not actually on duty. So if you can just arrange to get me there, we're good.
I should be happy, right? Right?