Lucas is turning 16.
Sixteen feels big. It’s one of those ages people build up in their minds long before it arrives. There are expectations attached to it — driving permits, rebellion, mood swings, distance, attitude. The classic, “Well… he’s a teenager.” But the thing is, Lucas isn’t especially interested in getting his driver’s license right now. He has already been to prom. And despite what the world often says about teenage boys, we genuinely enjoy being around him.
He’s smart, funny, kind, thoughtful, and deeply dedicated to the things he cares about. We have conversations that make us laugh until we cry, conversations that challenge us, and conversations that remind us just how quickly he’s becoming his own person.
That doesn’t mean there’s never pushback. Of course there is. He’s growing up. He’s testing ideas, boundaries, opinions, and independence. That’s healthy. That’s normal. That’s exactly what should happen when a kid starts spreading their wings. But there’s a difference between healthy independence and assuming teenagers are destined to become miserable, angry caricatures of themselves.
Sometimes I wonder how much of the “teenager phase” we accidentally create ourselves. We expect hormones, outrage, attitude, and disconnection, and then we parent through that lens before our kids even get there. What happens when kids constantly hear that teenagers are difficult? That conflict is inevitable? That distance is expected?
What if instead we expected connection? Respect. Humor. Growth. What if we made space for them to become themselves without assuming the worst version of adolescence is unavoidable?
Lucas has been given room to grow while still knowing we are firmly in his corner. He knows he can push back safely. He knows his voice matters. He knows we actually like him as a human being, not just as our child. And honestly, he’s becoming someone we’d want to spend time with, no matter what role he played in our lives.
At 16, Lucas has already been to more than 60 countries. He has earned nine college credits. He’s advanced scuba certified and a certified pickleball coach. He’s navigated airports, cultures, languages, and friendships all over the world. He can confidently talk to adults, entertain little kids, adapt to new situations, and jump into unfamiliar experiences without much hesitation.
But beyond the accomplishments, we’re most proud of who he is becoming. The way he treats people. The way he makes others feel included.
These years are strange because while you’re living them, they somehow feel endless and fleeting all at once. One minute you’re tying their shoes, and the next they’re taller than you, debating philosophy with you over dinner, and teaching you life lessons.
Before we know it, he’ll be off building a life completely his own. And while we fully intend to hunt him down wherever he ends up in the world so we can keep spending time with him, we know it won’t quite be the same. That’s the bittersweet part of parenting. The entire goal is to raise someone capable of leaving you. And somehow, if you’re lucky, they still choose to come back and hang out anyway.
