My son Tim turns 17 this summer, and I’m terrified. 17 means just one more year until the Government says he’s an adult. And I know, if “the Government” knew my kid, they’d know he’s not ready. I know what it’s supposed to look like. My oldest child turns 21 this year, and he’s settled in to being responsible for himself and self-reliant. He moves out in just four short weeks to spend a year in Europe, interning in his chosen profession, and I know he’ll thrive. But Tim’s not quite ready.